Vicky’s actions, her father’s actions, all blurred together at that moment–him crashing through her bedroom door, her running on top of her bed over to the window and opening it just in time to crawl out before he could grab her. She did it. She made it out the window and up to the roof, but she wasn’t out of harm’s way yet. She had to carefully and quickly make it over to the downspout so she could slide down.
The roof was too slanted to stand or walk on, plus the newly fallen October leaves which covered the roof made it treacherously slick. The most she could do was scoot. She scooted down near the edge of the roof and ever so cautiously rolled onto her stomach, letting herself drop until her hands clasped the guttering. It was scary, but not as scary as her daddy when he was drunk. There she was hanging from the roof of her house. She told herself not to look down. As long as she didn’t look down she could do this. She’d always been good at the monkey bars and this was no different. She began working her way across the guttering over to the down spout.
Her escape plan was working out perfectly. There was no sign of her father out on the roof. She figured he was trying to get his nerve up. Vicky inched her way down the guttering. In a moment she would be at the down spout, slide down, and be on the ground. She could run and hide in the woods or climb a tree and stay there until he sobered up, then he would probably have no recollection of the incident.
Suddenly she heard her father’s voice angrily calling out to her. But where was he? The voice didn’t come from above her, it came from below her. He was on the ground standing there waiting for her. He outsmarted her. He simply stepped outside knowing she would have to come down sooner or later. Why didn’t she think of it? She couldn’t hang from the guttering forever and it was too dangerous to try and climb back onto the roof. She made it to the down spout where she hugged tightly to the top, afraid to slide down.
“That’s right, you stupid brat, you can’t hang there all day,” her father yelled at her from the ground as he snapped his belt. “I’m gonna whup your butt so hard, your climbing days will be gone for good.”
She’d never felt so trapped before. Of course she had to come down and face the inevitable, but that moment that she hung there clinging to the top of the downspout seemed an eternity, with no way up and the worst of alternatives waiting on the ground.
She climbed trees only twice after that. Both times she froze in fear at the top the same way she froze while clinging to the downspout. The first time she stayed up there until she finally got her nerve up to jump. The second time Bobby helped her down.
*****
“Vicky, what’s wrong?” Frank’s voice called her back to her present reality. There he was leaning over the railing. If she hadn’t been so afraid she might have been touched by Frank’s look of concern that pinched his brows together in that intent fixed expression of helplessness.
“I can’t move,” Vicky said, hearing the sound of her own voice trembling.
“What do you mean you can’t move?”
“I mean I’m paralyzed. I can’t move. I forgot this happens to me. I can get up but I can’t get back down again. I’m just so scared to go down. I know it’s crazy, but I… I just…got scared all of a sudden.” Despite the chill of the evening, Vicky felt sweat break out around her scalp line and under her arms.
“Vicky, hang on and whatever you do, don’t look down,” Frank said, his voice sounding less nervous and more in command. How could she let go? Her knuckles bulged from the tightness of her grip.
“Don’t leave me,” Vicky said afraid he might come and get her, and then she wouldn’t have the security of seeing his face.
“I’m not leaving. I’m not going anywhere,” he said sounding much calmer and even brave. “Can you climb back up?” He asked.
“No, I’m stuck. My legs won’t move at all,” she said. The only thing she felt safe moving was her head, which she turned a little to the side. All at once a fiercely demonic urge overtook her to look down, an urge totally contrary to logic and against anything she truly wanted to do, yet she couldn’t help it. She obeyed the strange compulsion to look down and was seized with an even greater terror.
“Don’t Vicky, don’t look down. Look up. Look at me.” The reassuring command of his voice was the only safety net she had. She turned her head and looked at him. Something serene, almost supernatural had taken over Frank’s countenance. He was courageous and confident, tender and strong, everything heroic in that moment as he reached over the railing and took hold of her arms.
“I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.” Frank said. She did indeed feel that he had a secure grasp on her.
“Now what?” Vicky asked her voice still tremulous. Much to her surprise he laughed and his laugh infected her enough to where she was able to squeak out a little chuckle though she wasn’t sure why.
“Oh, Vicky, even when you’re in perilous danger you’re wonderful.” Frank leaned over the railing and kissed her on the mouth.
“What was that for?” Vicky asked dumbfounded.
“Courage. And because you look so beautiful there in the moonlight.”
The kiss had deliciously romantic overtones but this wasn’t the time or the place to rehash their mutual decision to remain just friends. All she could say was, “Thank you.” She wasn’t sure what she was thanking him for. She guessed it was the kiss and the courage he tried to impart to her through it. It worked, for she did somehow feel a new calm and strength.
“All right, just tell me what I need to do to get out of this fix and I’ll do it,” she said trusting him entirely.
“Just look at me, Vicky. Keep looking at me. In a minute or so I’m going to let go of you and you’re going to climb down that ladder and you’re going to be just fine.”
“Okay, okay,” Vicky nodded. “And you promise you won’t go anywhere. You’ll stay right there where I can see you.”
“I promise. All right, now you tell me when you’re ready for me to let go,” Frank said.
“Are your arms asleep yet? They gotta hurt hanging over the railing like that.”
“Let’s not worry about my arms. They’re fine. Let’s concentrate on your legs and how to get them moving again,” Frank said.
“Just keep talking to me Francis. Talk to me like nothing’s wrong, nothing whatever in this world, like we’re just sitting in your living room having a conversation.”
“All right, all right, let me think, conversation topics. You pick a topic.”
“Tell me the story of Swan Lake,” Vicky said.
“Now?”
“Yes, now.”
“All right, if you think it will help. But don’t you already know the story? Didn’t you read the insert in the album cover?”
“I know that Odette dies,” Vicky said.
“You read the end first, didn’t you?”
“Well, yes, but then I did go on to read the whole thing.”
“Then you know the story,” Frank said.
“I just want to hear you tell it.”
“All right then. Just don’t get too lost in the story, start thinking you’re a swan and try to flap your wings,” Frank said.
“Francis, you’re so silly,” she said, like someone with a toothache, trying very hard to act normal in public, laughing at a joke, all the while preoccupied with the pain.
“Swan Lake, let’s see, how to begin. Once upon a time in a far away and distant land there lived a prince, Prince Siegfried was his name. Now Prince Siegfried had finally come of age and all the royal court was eager for him to marry and produce an heir for the kingdom, none however, were more eager than his mother, the queen. She decided to give fate a little push; after all, she knew her son Prince Siegfried had no real interest in finding a bride just yet. So the queen decided to have a ball and invite all the royal maidens from all the surrounding kingdoms; the express purpose of which was for her son to select a bride.”
“Now wait a minute, they don’t have the ball just yet. It start
s out with Siegfried’s eighteenth birthday party,” Vicky interrupted.
“See, you know this story better than I do,” Frank said.
“Yeah, but you tell it better than me,” Vicky said, finding in their bantering a fleeting feeling of normalcy, allowing her to forget her predicament for a second or two.
“Okay, right, right, they don’t have the ball yet but it’s in the works. It’s to take place very soon.”
“The night after next,” Vicky reminded him.
“Right, and at the end of this ball he must announce who, of all these lovely maidens, he has decided to marry.”
“One day to plan a ball. Seems kind of soon, doesn’t it?” Vicky asked, wanting to forget she was standing on top of a ladder, trying to conquer a childhood fear so she could climb down.
“Yes, it does, but that’s how things happen in fairy tales,” Frank said.
“Oh, right. Continue,” Vicky said, noting that sparkle of liveliness in Frank’s eyes that seemed nothing out of the ordinary when he was recounting a story. It helped her to forget her fears for a miniscule of a moment.
“So anyway, Siegfried decides to celebrate his birthday by going hunting with his buddies. A sort of medieval bachelor party if you will.”
“What’s with these dudes anyway? It’s night and they decide to go hunting?” Vicky conjectured.
“More like dusk actually, but they’ve been drinking, so you know, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“You sure these guys weren’t from Kentucky?”
“Ah yes, the Kingdom of Kaintuck, I believe they may have been. So anyway, Siegfried and his royal young friends go hunting. Siegfried, however, breaks away from the others and rides off in pursuit of this flock of swans he sees on a lake. In the process he gets separated from his hunting buddies. He spies this one swan in particular and for some reason he’s captivated by it. He watches this graceful creature glide about the lake for a while and decides that that’s the bird he wants to take home that night. He raises his bow and arrow and he’s just about to shoot it when suddenly this amazing transformation takes place. Before his very eyes the swan changes into a beautiful maiden. Naturally Siegfried is awestruck. He approaches the maiden who reveals to him that she is the Princess Odette and that the wicked Von Roth Bart had cast an evil spell on her whereby she is a swan by day and transforms back into a woman by night. Only a promise of true and eternal love can break the spell.”
“Why did Von Roth Bart cast the spell in the first place? I didn’t read anything in the notes that answered that question and it’s been driving me crazy,” Vicky asked.
“Who knows? Some political conflict with Odette’s father probably.”
“That makes sense. Ol’ Von Roth Bart probably got his nose bent out of shape ‘cause he didn’t get promoted to kingdom wizard or something like that.”
“He does seem a bit like the power-crazed type, does he not? So anyway,” Frank continued, seeming excited about the telling of this tale. “Siegfried falls madly in love with Odette and promises that he’ll announce his marriage to her at the ball the next night.”
“Like you said, things happen fast in fairy tales,” Vicky said.
“Yeah, no kidding,” Frank chuckled. “Okay, so where were we?”
“At the ball.”
“Right. So poor old Siegfried has to go to the ball and dance with all these women he’s not the least little bit interested in. But that’s all right because he’s floating on air. He’s so in love with Odette, he’s just biding his time until midnight when he can make the announcement that he’s going to marry her. When all at once in strolls this mysterious stranger–the beautiful Princess Odile, daughter of the wicked Von Roth Bart. Von Roth Bart has cast yet another evil spell, this time over Prince Siegfried so that he mistakes Odile for Odette.”
“Likely story. I think it’s Siegfried’s version.”
“Ah, so you think Siegfried was really a cad? Huh, kind of makes the story more interesting actually. So anyhow, whatever his reasons, the effects of a wicked spell or a surge of hormones brought about by Odile’s charms, Siegfried professes his eternal undying love to Odile and announces before all the ball attendants his intentions to make Odile his bride.
“Suddenly, he hears something at the window. He looks up and there by the light of the moon he sees a swan desperately beating its wings against the window. Tragically, but too late for poor Odette he realizes he’s been tricked.”
“You don’t have to tell me the rest,” Vicky said, thinking sadly about the demise of the poor cursed swan woman for whom a promise of eternal love never came.
“That’s right, you read the ending first.”
“It’s kind of a downer, isn’t it?” Vicky said.
“Oh, well, makes for a great ballet. And the music’s spectacular. So now that you’re thoroughly depressed, what else can I do for you?” Frank said.
“Give me a good push,” Vicky said and together they laughed.
The laughter subsided leaving in its wake only quiet between the two, and Vicky silently calling forth all the resolve she could.
“I think I’m ready now,” she said after a while and Frank seemed to understand.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. You can let go,” Vicky said, still scared, her heart pounding, her mouth a bit dry, but no longer terrorized, rather feeling like her normal self and even a little foolish that this whole thing had happened to her.
“All right,” Frank said giving the professor like nod he always gave before giving instructions. “Go slowly. Take it one wrung at a time. Keep looking up. Look at me and no swan dives.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t be flapping my wings against your patio window any time soon.”
“Good,” Frank said and they both laughed, the laughter culminating in another kiss. This time it was humor, joy, and a natural affection that Frank imparted to her. It was enough. He let go of her arms, straightened up and spoke one word–“Go”.
Out of sheer will Vicky commanded her left knee to bend until she felt her right foot land securely on the next wrung down. She had done it. She had taken that first step. The rest would be easier.
“You’re doing it, Vicky, you’re doing it,” Frank exhorted her from above. “Keep looking at me. That’s it,” he said as she took another step down, this one easier than the last.
In moments she had descended the ladder and was safely on the ground.
“You did it!” Frank cheered and whistled and it occurred to Vicky that he didn’t seem to care if anyone heard him. “Wait there. I’m coming down,” Frank said. She was surprised to see how quickly and nimbly he climbed over the railing and descended the ladder. As soon as Frank made it down, Vicky realized her hands were shaking. She broke down in sobs. Frank put his arms around her and shushed her.
“What’s wrong with me? I’m such a fool. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“I believe its called aftershock,” Frank said. “It’s all right.”
“No, it’s not. I’m embarrassed. Besides my cousin Bobby, you’re the only person who’s seen me act like such a weak fool. How’s come every time I’m around you I make a fool of myself? I get drunk, I get stuck on ladders, I snivel and cry like a dern baby. If I ever have the misfortune of wetting my pants, you’d probably show up right then and there.”
“Gosh, I hope not,” Frank said chuckling. “Listen.” He took her face in his hands. “I’m just glad I was there for you. And it’s not because you’re weak or can’t take care of yourself. It’s because… you trust me. You let me be a hero tonight, and it’s not everyday a guy gets to be a hero. Does that sound arrogant? Maybe I’m being the fool now.”
“No, I get what you’re saying.”
Frank lifted a handkerchief out of his pocket, blotted her eyes then placed the linen material over her nose so she could blow. Vicky took the handkerchief from him.
“You even blow my nose for me.” She wiped her fa
ce and put the handkerchief in her pocket. “I’d like to be strong for someone too; like you, maybe.”
“Don’t worry; you’ll get your chance. That’s the way it goes, you know.”
“The way what goes?” Vicky asked.
“Friendship. Love,” he said nonchalantly
“Did you say the ‘L’ word?”
“The ‘L’ word? Yes, I guess I did.”
“Would you say it again?” Vicky asked.
“I love you.”
“I love you too,” Vicky said, feeling far too sober and vulnerable to look him in the eye. Frank touched Vicky’s chin and gently directed her head up until her eyes looked at him. That was all it took. Once again they were locked in an embrace and joined together by a mutual kiss, a kiss initiated by both of them with all the passion and fervor that comes from full moons. How delightful it was to be kissed like this and be completely sober. The delight, however, soon gave way to the fears as Vicky stopped the kiss abruptly.
“Wait a minute, we said we weren’t going to do this!” she said.
“Do what, for crying out loud?! An occasional kiss at your door under the moonlight–how can that be wrong?” Frank said, his hands gesturing dramatically, his voice intent. “It doesn’t have to be about sex. That’s not what I’m after here. You were right when you said sex complicates things,” Frank said.
“I said that?”
“Yes, you said that.”
ODD NUMBERS Page 42