Off The Record

My Lonely Neighbor Stayed With Me While His House Was Repaired — What I Discovered Shocked Me

Published on October 1, 2025

My mother always encouraged me to provide assistance when a severe storm left my quiet neighbor without a roof over his head. I never imagined that allowing him to stay in my house would become the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do with patience. Understanding why he lived alone didn’t take long.

My mother instilled in me the values of kindness and helping others. And one day, I came to regret everything I had ever done after taking her advise.

On a typical Wednesday, the news announced that a storm was approaching the city and that everyone should try to evacuate.

In the hopes that my home would be safe, I left, stayed at a hotel for the day, and watched the news as my city flooded.

Thank goodness, my house was still standing when I returned. There was some little flooding in the basement, but nothing significant.

After I called a repairman, the issue was resolved. However, the same could not be true for the home of my neighbor, Mr. Harrison.

The walls and roof were damaged, and nearly all of his windows were broken.

Mr. Harrison inspected his home to determine the extent of the damage. The fact that his house was older than mine likely contributed to its inability to survive the storm.

Mr. Harrison was an isolated sixty-year-old. I believed he had no children because he had no wife and I had never seen any youngsters come to see him.

He remained to himself and avoided interacting with the neighbors. I was heartbroken for him. Since he had no one to turn to for assistance, I made the decision to offer myself.

I approached his property and gave him a little tap on the shoulder. He gave a startled leap. “Oh my God!” he turned to me and cried.

“What do you want?!” he yelled, obviously irritated.

It’s me, Natalie, your neighbor, Mr. Harrison, I said.

“I don’t give a damn who you are! You’re on my property, but why?” He yelled.

“I just wanted to make an offer.” I stumbled, “I wanted to invite you to stay with me for a while if you have nowhere to stay.”

“Really?” Mr. Harrison inquired, his voice suddenly gentler.

“I do have an extra room, yes. You’re welcome to stay with me if you need a place to stay while your house is being fixed, as I’m at work most of the day,” I said.

He said, “Well, thank you,” and then he entered his home without saying anything else.

What that meant was unclear to me. Was he simply saying “thank you,” or had he accepted my offer? I was perplexed for a few minutes before making my way home.

After thirty minutes, the doorbell rang. Mr. Harrison was standing there with a bag when I opened the door.

“So, what’s going on? Is everything prepared?” He inquired.

“Well… I wasn’t sure whether you agreed or not. I said.”

Angrily, Mr. Harrison said, “I think I was clear enough,” and went inside.

He had rudely thrust his bag into my hands, so I escorted him to the guest room, which was fortunately on the first floor and spared me from carrying it.

I said, “I’ll bring you some towels and bedding so you can make the bed.”

“I’m not going to make the bed. You’re a female!” Harrison complained.

“But at home, you made your bed.” Flustered, I answered.

“Yes, I live by myself. You’re here now, and I’m a visitor,” he added.

“All right.” Muttering, I went to get the bed linens.

I attempted to justify his actions by assuming that he was under stress or that he had simply been by himself for a long time, but I was completely mistaken.

It was a misery to share a home with Mr. Harrison. For some reason, he had concluded that I was meant to serve him, remained up late creating noise, and never cleaned up after himself.

He spoke the words “You’re a woman” more frequently than “hello.”

He left his filthy clothing everywhere and strewn his belongings all over the house.

My tolerance was wearing thin, so I tried mentally repeating my mother’s statement that everyone deserves kindness.

One day, though, it broke. Naturally, I was in the kitchen preparing dinner—roasted chicken and potatoes—just the way Mr. Harrison preferred.

He would always criticize me and say I was doing it incorrectly, even if I tried to season the dish.

Went up for some spices in the top cupboard, and as I did, I accidently hit my head on the exhaust fan. One of Mr. Harrison’s filthy socks dropped onto my head at that very time.

“WHAT THE—?!” I hurled the sock off and screamed.

“What’s wrong with you? I’m suffering from a headache. Speaking, Mr. Harrison entered the kitchen.”

“I won’t even inquire as to why. HOW? What caused your filthy sock to wind up on the exhauster?” I shouted.

Mr. Harrison remarked casually, “Oh, I must have stepped on something wet on the kitchen floor, so I took it off. However, you are to blame. You need to have cleaned more thoroughly,” he continued.

“My fault? My fault? I offered to assist you! Not to be your maid, but to have a roof over your head so you wouldn’t have to sleep on the streets! I let out a yell.”

You’re a female. “You’re expected to take care of the housework,” Mr. Harrison stated sarcastically.

“That’s it! I’m finished! I screamed and rushed to the visitor room.”

“I have made an effort to be patient! Kindness is what I’ve attempted! However, you’re going too far! As I stuffed his belongings into his luggage, I yelled.”

“This is how you’re going to throw me out?” “Hey!” said Mr. Harrison.

“Yeah, I’m throwing you out because you don’t value kindness!” I yelled.

I was going to throw the ship-shaped bottle that Mr. Harrison had brought with him into his bag when he abruptly pulled it out of my hands.

“Witch, don’t touch that!” My jaw dropped as Mr. Harrison screamed.

“You know what? It’s understandable why you feel so alone! It’s impossible to be with you! I feel bad for everybody who has ever known you because you are the worst person I have ever met.” I shouted.

I saw tears forming in Mr. Harrison’s eyes as he drew the bottle closer to himself.

I added, “Oh, don’t try to play the pity card,” but he didn’t say anything.

This was odd. Mr. Harrison was never silent. He was always quick to respond. As I glanced at the bottle, I noticed a tag attached to the neck that read, “My and Dad’s masterpiece,” written in childlike script. I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

“Are you a parent?” I inquired.

“Don’t worry about it!” Mr. Harrison lost his temper.

“So why didn’t you see your relatives? Why haven’t I seen anyone come see you?” I inquired.

“Because I made everything a mess!” Mr. Harrison yelled at them.

“What did you destroy?” I inquired.

“I had Georgie is my son. First, his mother left me because I had Georgie with me to work all the time. However, we maintained communication until he was a high school student,” Mr. Harrison stated.

“Then what happened?” I inquired.

“Georgie made the decision to pursue a career in dance!” “I’m furious,” Mr. Harrison remarked. He ignored me when I informed him that wasn’t a manly thing to do! I told him to pick between me and dancing, and he screamed. “Since then, I have not seen him.”

“What time was that?” I inquired.

“Nearly 15 years ago,” Mr. Harrison murmured softly.

“Fifteen years? You haven’t spoken to your own son in fifteen years because you disapproved of his choice of something he loved! I let out a yell.”

“Now, I don’t know, I probably would do things differently,” Mr. Harrison murmured.

Then visit him. I said, “Talk to your son.” “Perhaps by now you have grandchildren.”

Mr. Harrison stated that he would not want to speak with me.

I let out a long sigh. I said, “You can stay, but only if you act normally.” “I’ll throw you out without asking questions if you have one more outburst.”

“All right, thanks,” Mr. Harrison replied.

I continued, “And pick up your things,” and he gave a nod.

Did I sympathize with Mr. Harrison once more? Indeed, I did. Have I inquired about his son with the neighbors? Indeed, I did. Did I pull up in front of his son’s house in my car? Indeed, I did.

I had no idea what I would say to him. “Your dad misses you and regrets what he did, even though he’s a jerk.” I got out of the car, rang the doorbell, and waited even though I wasn’t sure whether that was a smart idea.

When the door opened, a tall, thin, and very attractive man emerged. My mouth fell open. It was unbelievable to me that this was Mr. Harrison’s son.

“Are you Georgie?” I inquired.

“George. Yes. What are you looking for?” He inquired.

“Your dad’s neighbor is me—”

Before I could finish, he started to shut the door behind me. I said, “Hey, what are you doing?”

Once more, George opened the door. He said, “What’s your name?”

I said, “Natalie.”

I don’t want anything to do with that guy, Natalie. Pay attention. I even adopted my mother’s last name. You can depart if he hasn’t passed away yet. George added, “And you can go too, even if he’s dead.”

My eyebrows went up. I remarked, “Wow, you’re really alike.”

He yelled, “We are NOT!” before calming down. “There are no similarities between us,” George stated.

“Perhaps not in appearance, but definitely in spite,” I answered.

“What are you aware of?” George enquired.

For the past month, your dad has been residing at my house. Believe me, I understand what I’m discussing. Could we simply have a conversation? I said, “I’m not asking for much.”

After pausing, George left the house, shutting the door behind him. “All right, let’s talk,” he said.

We took a stroll. I told George everything when we went to the park. How awful it was to live with Mr. Harrison, and how much he felt bad about what he had done to George.

However, we discussed more than simply Mr. Harrison. I questioned George, a professional dancer, about his work, and he inquired about mine and me in general.

I felt great conversing with Mr. Harrison, even if I shared his genes. It wasn’t really a date, yet it was the finest one I’d had in years.

After returning to George’s house, we stood silently and looked into each other’s eyes.

He said, “All right, I’ll agree to meet with my dad, but only under one condition.”

“What is that?” I inquired.

George said, “You’ll go on a date with me.”

My cheeks began to flush. “Agree,” I said.

Furthermore, I refuse to initiate contact. George urged him to approach him.

I answered, “That’s two conditions.”

George held my hand and gave me a gentle kiss before leaving to return to his home. “Well, then two conditions,” he added.

I had the impression that pyrotechnics were going off inside of me. It’s time for Mr. Harrison and his son to reconcile. Because I might fall in love with this.

I didn’t return home empty-handed. I had a bottle-with-ship kit in my hand.

“What is this?” Mr. Harrison inquired.

“Your method of resolving the conflict with your son.” I said, “Pack your bags.”

“I won’t be leaving!”

“You are! You’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t take this action.”

Mr. Harrison remarked, “If I go and he doesn’t want to see me, I’ll regret it.”

I said, “You’ll wish you had done it more.” “Please pack your belongings.”

Mr. Harrison departed for his chamber. “I have no idea where he resides.” “Where do we go?” he yelled from his chamber.

“I understand, move quickly!” I responded with a yell.

An hour later, in spite of all the complaining, Mr. Harrison was holding the bottle kit at George’s door.

I was in my car when they greeted each other uncomfortably, Mr. Harrison gave George the bottle, and two hours later they were assembling the ship while consuming a stronger beverage than coffee.

I grinned as my mother’s advice to “always help those you can” replayed in my head.

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