John Argo - We Are Different

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We Are Different

a sf short story

by John Argo

Marie and Steve Compton, when they moved into the empty house next door to Charlie, brought with

them an electricity that convinced Charlie he was in love like never before in his life.

The delicious new feeling frightened Charlie, for he had to be very careful. And he really meant to be

good. And he hoped that, after his last brush with the police, the court-assigned shrink had been right

when she told him he was cured.

Charlie Hart was 30. He lived alone with his secrets, his pleasures, his yearnings, in the house his late

mother had bequeathed him. As Charlie's lawyer pointed out to the judge, Charlie was an educated man,

a contributor to society. He just had this minor problem. He liked to peek into people's windows at

night.

When Charlie was thirteen, his Daddy had run away with another woman. His Momma thereupon rarely

smiled. Her eyes had a shocked, bereaved glitter, as though brimming with tears. She'd stare at Charlie

and say: "You'll come to no good end, boy."

Charlie's testicles ached a lot, and he felt a yearning, some dreadful and nameless hunger. When he tried

to ask Momma about it, she turned away with a resentful look that made him feel guilty. She would throw

her sewing down, say "Men!" and storm out of the room. He would call after her, but a door would slam,

and the boy, tiptoeing into the long dark hallway, would hear the sound of muffled sobs coming from

Momma's bedroom. He began to realize that he was a victim of his male nature, as Daddy had been, and

he felt a deep sense of guilt and shame.

At the same time, he could not resist his growing urges. Wearing his black sweats and a wool cap, he

would ease out of his second-story bedroom window, slide down a hard cold tree limb, and roam the

neighborhood like a feral animal, alive with the night. Never mind the thin and artificial thread of

civilization: a narrow street, a clump of houses, a passing car. There was a deeper truth in the night, a

friendship with the owl, the rodent, the passing clouds. Stalking from lawn to lawn, through holes in

fences, he became a student, an expert, of windows. He turned away from the things that did not please:

an elderly widow, part invalid, struggling with monumental heroism to straddle an aluminum potty; he

turned quickly away from such indictments of mortality. The beatings, the fights that took place behind

venetian blinds, those he avoided.

He got to know the places and times to look. There was the tall, big-breasted woman with thick glasses

who lay naked in bed reading and eating cookies. There was the young mother who breast-fed a baby

every night at ten. But his coup d'etat was the discovery that, from seven-thirty to eight each evening,

Laurie Tomasini practiced cheerleading in front of her bedroom mirror while undressing for bed.

Girls liked Charlie at first. Laurie had been no exception. He was a compact, nice-faced boy with dark

curly hair. All the boys desired Laurie Tomasini. The boys from nearby Foster High even stopped by

during lunch time to watch her practice with the 8th grade cheerleading squad. Laurie had SPOKEN with

Charlie. Laurie had a boyish body, but softer in the hips and shoulders. She looked flat-chested; but had

acres of glossy mahogany hair, and a gorgeous face. Her skin was the color of brandy. She had dark

eyes, naturally elongated like an Egyptian princess's including the snow-white corners. A woman's

beauty, Charlie decided, was indescribable; it could only be looked at, not touched, and he had a rare

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John Argo - We Are Different

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