by Debra Doxer
I climbed up into my Dad’s four by four pickup truck and was immediately assaulted by the stale smell of cigarette smoke. I opened the windows, cranked the heat and backed out of the driveway. The truck easily ate up the snow-packed roads while the sharp sting of cold air coming through the open window eased the remainder of my headache. Soon, I found myself at the mall.
I sat in the truck a while longer just watching people rushing across the slippery parking lot. The mall was quiet. The Christmas rush was over and the weather had likely kept people away today. I watched the faces that hurried past me, drawn in tight from the cold, covered in scarves and hats, and I wondered what their biggest worries were. My old worries of never getting out of South Seaport seemed insignificant in the face of my current issues.
Finally, I climbed out of the truck and walked briskly toward the entrance. I didn’t know if Kristen was working today or if she was even still employed here. I only knew that she’d been on my mind since I ran into her and I wanted to see her. Throughout high school, she had been a breath of fresh air for me. She was an escape that I needed today more than ever.
I wandered past the makeup counters and into the accessories department, stopping when I spotted her standing behind the same display case she’d been at the other day. She was talking to another girl. She had on a brown sweater and her long, shiny hair was pulled back into a ponytail. The end of it swayed slightly as she spoke, grazing her slim shoulders. I walked over casually with my hands in my pockets. The girl standing with Kristen noticed me first. It appeared that she worked there, too.
"Can I help you?" she asked brightly.
Kristen turned in my direction. "Hi," she said, her eyes widening in surprise. Then she smiled at me. "What are you doing here?" she asked, glancing behind me to see who I was with.
I found myself returning her smile. "Actually, I came to see you. Can you take a break?"
The other girl, she was shorter than Kristen and her hair was dyed an unnatural blonde color, grinned at me. “Of course, she can.” Then she raised her eyebrows suggestively at us.
Kristen’s cheeks filled with color. "I don't know. I just got here."
"It's dead in here today,” the blonde girl said. “Go take a break. Take as long as you want."
"Well, maybe just a quick cup of coffee,” she told me and then turned to her co-worker again. “Are you sure you'll be all right?"
The blonde nodded vigorously, her wide smile still in place.
“Ok, then.” Kristen said as she grabbed her purse from under the counter and then came around to meet me. “We could go to the food court,” she suggested.
“Sounds good.”
I followed her out of the store and into the mall area. Once again, I saw the red highlights in her hair that hadn’t been there before and the curve of her waist seemed more defined now. The changes were subtle but noticeable. I wondered if she’d made herself over for a boyfriend or if she was seeing someone.
The food court was as quiet as the rest of the mall. We each ordered coffee. I paid and brought both cups over to a table she had chosen. Once we were settled, she took a small tentative sip, testing the temperature. “What brings you out here on a day like this?” she asked, her bright green eyes intent on mine.
“I wanted to see you.”
She gave me a shy smile and looked back down at her coffee. “Are you having a good break?” she asked.
Hardly, I thought. “It’s been okay.”
"When do you go back to school?"
"Next week.” I brought the cup to my lips and tried not to wince when I discovered it was barely lukewarm. “So, what about you?” I asked. “Are you still taking classes at the community college?” I recalled that was her intention when we last spoke.
She nodded at me. “I’m hoping to transfer to a bigger school next year. I’ve applied for some loans and scholarships.”
“That’s great.”
She shrugged modestly in response. We sat quietly for a bit, drinking our coffee. I was never much of a conversationalist, but that’s one of the things I liked about Kristen. With her, I didn’t have to be.
“Can I ask you a question?” she inquired tentatively.
“Sure.”
“Why didn’t you call me when you were at school?”
I sighed and put down my coffee. I knew if I came to see her I would probably have to answer this question. The problem was, I didn’t have a good answer. “I really am sorry about that.”
Her eyes searched mine. “And you didn’t return my calls or emails.”
I nodded. “I know. I’m a jerk. I’m lucky you’re even willing to sit here and talk to me. Why are you?” I asked. “Why are you being so nice after what I did?”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “I have no idea. And you’re right. You are a jerk.”
I smiled at her bluntness. It was so uncharacteristic of her. But I felt my smile quickly dissolving. She deserved an explanation. “It wasn’t you,” I told her. “It was this place. It just felt so good being away at first that I didn’t want any reminders. I’m sorry. I know that sounds bad. The truth is, you were the only person I really missed. But I kept putting off calling you, and then too much time had passed, and I figured you’d moved on.”
She listened intently, her hand playing with the rim of her coffee cup. “I didn’t move on,” she said softly. “Did you?”
I was mesmerized by her expression as she watched me, waiting for my answer. She was so open and honest and her words were very welcome, I realized. “I thought I had,” I replied. “But now I know I haven’t.”
Her gaze held mine while the corners of her mouth curved up slightly. I could see that she was pleased with my response. Although, she wasn’t ready to jump up and throw her arms around me just yet.
She took another sip of her coffee. "What are you majoring in at school?" she asked, changing the subject.
"Pre-law."
"Pre-law?” she repeated, looking stunned. “I can't see you being a lawyer, Danny."
"Why not?" I asked, amused by her reaction.
"I mean, I'm sure you could do it, but I always thought you'd be a writer. It would suit you better. I remember your papers from English class. They were really good. Plus, you've got that angst thing going that creative people have," she continued.
"I have angst?”
She nodded and grinned at me. “You know, the quiet brooding thing. You’ve got that in spades.”
I cocked an eyebrow at her. “Maybe I’m not brooding. Maybe I just don’t have anything to say.”
She tilted her head and studied me. “Yeah, maybe not. Maybe you’re just a pretty face without much between the ears.”
“Hey,” I protested, brushing my leg against hers beneath the small table. “You think my face is pretty?”
“Oh, please. Get over yourself,” she laughed, not moving her leg away.
I laughed, too, then, allowing myself to forget everything else for just a little while.
When her break was over, I walked her back to the store letting her know that I wanted to see her again before I had to leave and that I would call her. She nodded noncommittally at me, silently letting me know that she would believe that when it happened. I couldn’t blame her. But if I was able to, I intended to follow through this time. Knowing the feelings that we both still had for each other, I couldn’t understand why I had let her slip away in the first place.
Since I’d told my mother that I wouldn’t be home for dinner, I walked back to the food court and got a couple of slices of pizza. Then I sat there quietly and ate alone, listening to the Christmas music that filtered down from the ceiling. Realizing that my phone was still turned off, I pulled it from my pocket and debated powering it on. I stared at the blank screen and felt my heart speed up at the thought of what might await me on my voicemail. Finally, I just put it away in my pocket again and finished my pizza.
eighteen
The next morning I awoke, after a full ni
ght’s rest, finally feeling somewhat like myself. My cold was nearly gone, and the haze that I’d been submersed in due to lack of sleep had lifted. But still, I did not power on my phone. The knot in my stomach had loosened, but it made its presence known when I glanced over at the phone sitting silently on my dresser.
I showered, dressed, made the usual small talk over breakfast with my mother, and then I went outside to find my father shoveling the driveway. The Buick, which I needed to get to Professor Sheffield’s house this morning, was blocked in by Dad’s truck. I grabbed another shovel I’d found in the garage and went out to help him. During the night, the town plow had gone by and while clearing the road, it had deposited a mountain of dirty grey ice and snow at the foot of the driveway. I gripped the shovel and dug into the pile. Hearing me behind him, Dad paused and turned toward me. After giving me a grateful nod, he went back to digging. Silently, we worked side by side, creating our own substantial hills of displaced snow on either side of the driveway entrance.
Once the way was clear, Dad took my shovel and returned them both to the garage. When he passed by me standing next to the Buick, waiting for him to move the truck, he said, “Thanks,” his voice breathless from the exertion.
I shrugged. “I need to get out, too.”
“Daniel!” I turned toward the front door. My mother was standing there, half in and half out of the house. “Seth is on the phone for you.”
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes before answering. “Tell him I left already.”
She eyed me curiously before nodding and disappearing back into the house.
“Everything okay?” Dad asked beside me.
I nodded and pulled open the door to the Buick. I waited for Dad to move toward the truck. When he didn’t, I asked, “Everything okay with you?”
He hesitated before answering. “You should come home more.”
“What?” I asked, not sure I’d heard him correctly.
“I said, you should come home more. It makes your mother happy.”
I stared at him, feeling old resentments bubbling up. “Why can’t you make her happy?” I challenged.
He averted his eyes and rubbed a rough, calloused hand over his cheek. When his eyes met mine again, I thought I saw hurt in them. “I don’t know, Daniel,” he said. “I wish I did.”
Then he got in his truck and left without a backwards glance.
The sun was out this morning, its bright rays glaring off the snow, making me wonder where I’d left my sunglasses for the first time since I’d been home. My father’s words ran through my head during the drive to Professor Sheffield’s house. I’d been assuming my father was at fault for the problems my parents were having and had been having for a long time. The look in Dad’s eyes when he answered me began to shift my perception. I wondered if he shared the guilt I’d always felt for being unable to fill my mother’s world the way she’d wanted me to.
I was so deep into my own thoughts when I arrived at the professor’s house, that I didn’t immediately notice the unfamiliar car parked on the street in front. While I didn’t recognize the car, as I drew closer I realized that I did know who belonged to the dark silhouette sitting in the driver’s seat. I didn’t know how Eddie had discovered where I was working, and I didn’t want a confrontation in full view of the professor and his entire neighborhood. Rather than stopping, I slowly pulled past the silver Honda in which he was sitting. His dark eyes followed my progression as I moved by him and continued down the street hoping he would follow. A glance in the rear view mirror confirmed that he had.
I figured that if I continued onto the main road and pulled into a busy area, he would leave if he didn’t want to be seen. But a part of me just wanted to get the inevitable over with. So I left the professor’s street and drove about a mile to the quiet service road that ran along Route 6. After parking to the side of the tree-lined street, I got out and went around the car, hopping up to sit on the trunk and wait for Eddie to pull up behind me. I was going to be late to Professor Sheffield’s house now, if I even made it there at all.
His car came to a stop and Eddie slowly got out. His familiar leather jacket was gone. Instead he had on a black parka and a black wool hat pulled down low over his forehead.
“Morning, Dan,” he said, his breath a visible white puff when he stopped in front of me.
“Morning,” I replied. “How did you know where I worked?”
“Your mom told Seth when he called your house this morning.”
My jaw clenched at the realization that Seth had been involved in my ambush.
“You haven’t been answering your phone.”
“True story,” I told him.
Eddie’s eyes were intent on mine, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Seth said you needed more time to think. But I figured you’d already made up your mind.”
“I never changed my mind,” I told him. I felt surprisingly calm telling him this, relieved that the anticipation of this moment could finally end.
Eddie shoved his hands down into his coat pockets. “There’s nothing I can say to change how you feel?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Maybe there’s something I can do then.”
“You mean put the fireplace poker somewhere that would incriminate me and then tell the police that I did it. That’s really a stretch, don’t you think?
He shrugged. “It was a Hail Mary. You’re right.”
My eyes widened at his admission.
“You really do think I’m stupid, don’t you?” He scowled at me, not bothering to hide his resentment.
I shook my head. “No. I never thought you were stupid.”
“See? You can tell a good lie, Dan.”
Sighing, I pushed away from the car and stood in front of him. I was a few inches taller than Eddie, but he had more girth.
“Actually, I had something else in mind,” he said, withdrawing his hands from his pockets and fisting them by his sides.
I’d never been in a fight before, and I knew his experience made me no match for him, but I didn’t intend to be a punching bag. When his hands remained where they were, my eyes found his, and I saw a glint in them. He was amused that I thought he was going to hit me. “That would certainly feel good,” he said, clenching and unclenching his fists. “But I doubt that would change your mind.”
After giving me a lopsided grin, he turned away and walked back toward his car. Pausing before pulling the door open, his eyes found mine again. “I would suggest that you lock your doors and windows, Dan. The Cape can be a dangerous place.” Then he got in his car and started the engine. When he drove past me, he pointed his thumb and index finger at me and feigned pulling a trigger.
My mind was racing as I turned the car around and drove back to Professor Sheffield’s house. Eddie’s threat was leading me to a conclusion that I hadn’t considered before. I don’t know why I hadn’t. He was already a murderer. He could do it again.
I parked in front of the professor’s house and took a deep breath. It was possible that Eddie had only intended to scare me into doing what he wanted. Did I honestly believe that he would go so far as to kill me now? That was the problem though. I never believed he would kill someone in the first place.
The professor greeted me at the door, and he had so much to say about the weather and the holidays that he didn’t notice I was mostly silent and distracted. I put in a full day’s work, typing out the text of notebook after notebook, repressing the turmoil that existed outside the cocoon of the professor’s house. At some point, the professor brought me a plate with leftovers from his holiday dinner. I smiled and thanked him, eating without really registering what was on the plate.
The drive home that night was slow going in the Buick. During the day, the sun had melted the snow banks that lined the streets. But when the sun went down, patches of black ice had formed on the roads. I passed several spinouts once I exited the highway and turned into my parents’ neighborhood. As I
approached the house, I saw the street was crowded with police cars. My stomach jumped into my throat, and I nearly hit the break until I noticed there was also a fire truck directly in front of the house. Now, my heart thudded wildly for a different reason.
I pulled the car as close as I could, but the final few yards were blocked off. Getting out, I walked the rest of the way hoping the emergency was not at my house. But there was no doubt, once I arrived at the front lawn. Firemen in their heavy coats and boots were coming out the front door dragging a hose and other equipment with them. The house looked fine with no sign of a fire. I searched the people gathered on the lawn for my parents’ faces, but I didn’t find them. Dad’s truck wasn’t in the driveway either. Pushing past the neighbors who had come out to look, I stopped one of the firemen. “Where are my parents? Are they okay?”
“You live here?” he asked.
I nodded.
He pointed to another fireman standing in front of a red sedan. “Talk to him,” he told me before walking away. That was when I finally noticed the acrid smell of smoke in the air. I rushed over to the other fireman, pushing down the panic I could feel rising.
“This is my house,” I said, interrupting his conversation with a police officer. “What’s going on? Are my parents okay?”
He turned toward me. “You’re Daniel?”
I nodded.
“Your father has been trying to call you.”
“Are he and my mother alright?”
“Your father is fine. Your mother was taken to the hospital for smoke inhalation but she’s going to be fine, also.”
I blinked at him and felt myself nodding as I processed what he’d told me. They were going to be fine. Thank goodness. “What happened?” I asked, looking back at the house.
“It looks like the fire started in the kitchen. A neighbor saw the smoke and called it in. Your mother was sleeping upstairs. Since your fire alarms weren’t working, she didn’t wake up before the smoke reached the bedroom area. But your neighbor called before the fire could spread. Your mother was very lucky.”