She looked out once more double checking that absolutely no one would see her go to her fridge.
Wait a minute, she paused and thought. Is my fire escape really made out of wood?
She looked out the window to double check.
Son of a bitch, it is. How does that make sense?
Bowl full of gluten free cereal, she snuck back into her room where, thankfully, the only window in the room looked straight out into faded red bricks.
She got underneath her covers and watched Colin Firth frantically look for the windblown pages of his draft in the pond.
She giggled. She loved this scene. Both he and his future wife finishing each other’s sentences even though they spoke different languages. It melted her heart every time. Like every movie she watched incessantly, it was a happy sad ordeal.
A knock on her back door. The one with the window she wanted to cover up.
She put her spoon down and paused the movie.
No one had ever knocked on that door before. Ever.
The one or two friends she had that maybe came over every six months always buzzed and came up the normal way.
Plus, she didn’t even like to use that door. The railings on the fire escape sucked. They moved with the slightest bump, and shook and vibrated when a person simply used the stairs.
Knock knock knock.
She hit play on the DVD and decided that she would ignore it. If she knew whoever it was, well… then he or she had her number. If he or she didn’t know her, then Mary had no interest in whatever he or she had to tell her.
But the knocking got louder. So loud that whoever was knocking was practically banging on her door with fists.
She really wished she had a weapon. But where do you get a weapon when you don’t have a car? Target doesn’t sell anything. Neither does Panera. Aneila’s Cafe? She probably had two or three somethings for herself, and would probably actually sell one of them to her if—
Knock knock knock.
She thought about calling 911, but knew that when they asked her what the problem was, she’d have to tell them the truth (she was weird that way), and the truth was that her only problem was that someone was knocking at her door. Not exactly a capital offense. She put on a sweater and threw on some jeans over her pajama bottoms. In a pullout drawer in the kitchen were some steak knives she never used, but for some reason had ten of. She slipped one out and looked out the window perpendicular to her back door. A drunk, disheveled man with dark hair was banging his head against her back door.
He seemed to sense her looking at him, and quickly turned around and saw her.
“Can I come in?” he asked, ashen faced.
“No!” she yelled. “Go away! Go home!”
“Please! I need to come in. I need help!”
“Call the police,” she said. “Stop bothering me!”
She closed the blinds and stepped around the corner, hoping he would disappear. Her apartment was only a block away from a popular bar. These kinds of things happened once in a while.
Knock knock knock. The banging resumed.
She didn’t know what to do besides threaten him.
She pulled back her blinds again and shouted, “If you come here, I’ll stab you! I have a steak knife!”
She winced at herself and went back into hiding. Why did she tell him she had a steak knife? What difference did it make that it was a steak knife in her hand? She could have just told him she had a knife. Why did she feel an overbearing need to be honest and forthright with—
“PLEASE! May I come in?” he moaned. “I really don’t feel well.”
She decided to call the police.
It only rang once before it was answered.
She told the woman on the other end her problem, and was told to not, under any circumstances, let him in. That she should not talk to him any further, and if he asked her any more questions, questions revolving around getting to know her and whatnot, to just ignore him and not say anything. Ignore everything he did, essentially.
OK. Easy thing to do. When were they coming over?
“We’re very busy right now. Just make sure you don’t say he can come in. Do not, under any circumstances, say he can come in.”
Well no-duh. Why would she do that?
“We’ll get there as soon as we can. You’re on the list. Goodbye.”
She went back to her room and tried to resume Love Actually, but the pounding became incessant.
Then he started screaming.
“LET ME IN! PLEASE, MAY I COME IN?”
Did he think she was his ex-girlfriend or something?
There would be no concentrating.
She turned off her TV and listened, making sure he wasn’t trying to force his way in.
Was someone after him?
She went back to her window. Again he felt her looking at him and turned around.
“May I come in?” he asked. He was simply pitiful
May shook her head no. “Are you OK? Are you sick? Why can’t you go back from wherever you came?”
He sniffed the air. “Because you’re the only one I can find. Please may I come in?”
“What am I the only one of?” she asked. She felt she was egging on further crazy, but it felt nice to be special.
“You’re an oh,” he said, his head against her back door. “Positive or negative. I can’t remember. I just know you smell right, and you’re the one I need.”
Wait, was he talking about her—
“Sorry,” another man called up walking up the fire escape. She stood up on her tippy toes to see who he was.
It was that man! The man the old barista fawned over!
“Sorry, he got away from us. Come along, Jordan. We have what you need in the car. Sorry again,” he said waving at Mary through her window.
Mary tried to hide and wave back at the same time.
Hot damn his chest was chiseled.
He led Jordan down the stairs, and asked, “Isn’t this where Scott lives? He hasn’t let us into his place yet. We need to make sure we do that soon.”
Jordan grunted, “Why are we leaving, Dorek? I need her.”
“No, no,” Dorek said. “We’re getting you to the car. Hurry up now.”
Dorek, huh? Polish for gift from god. Hell yeah he was.
Well, now she at least knew his name. It was a lot to go through, but at least she had it.
Did he recognize her?
Standing behind a window in a dark room? No, idiot, go back to your movie.
CHAPTER 3
Mary went to Aniela’s the next evening hoping to see him. She held no vain hope that he would strike up a conversation with her and talk to her about his drunken friend Jordan.
Old Aniela was manning the cash register while her younger employees zipped to and fro making everyone’s beverages.
“Where’s your boyfriend?” Mary asked, handing Aniela a five for her coffee.
“Przepraszam? What did you say?”
“Your chłopak,” Mary said. “Your boyfriend. The young guy who comes in here.”
Aniela laughed. “I don’t know,” she said in broken English. “I see him maybe. Maybe not. He just stupid boy.”
“He’s very handsome,” Mary said.
“Handsome? You see him? When he come?”
“Yes, and you make him better. More… przystojny, more handsome.”
“No, no, no. You can do better than him. Want kids? He no father.” Aniela then opened the cash register to get change.
“What do you mean? He wouldn’t be a good father?” Mary asked.
“No, how do you… onniemożemiećdzieci.”
Mary didn’t know what she meant, she said it too fast, and while Aniela was counting out her change she dropped several coins that scattered.
“Shull kref polara!” Aniela cursed. Dog’s blood!
She was too old to bend over and pick everything up.
Aniela looked at her employees, but they were hurrying to catch up
on back orders. Mary looked behind her and there was a line to the door.
“Did you want me to help?” Mary asked. “It’s no problem.”
“Na zdrowie. Bless you. Please.”
Mary smiled and walked around the counter. As she was picking up the change, she noticed a picture by the cash register. It was of a younger Aniela with a group of people— taken fifteen or twenty years ago— they looked like they had just come from a polka dance.
Mary couldn’t help but look. Aniela looked good! Old age must not have struck until recently.
The man she was with was good looking, too. Her husband? She had her head resting on his shoulder.
But beside this man…
“Is this Dorek?” she turned around and asked Aniela.
“Nie, ojciec.” No, that’s his father.
Mary nodded. The likeness between the two of them was uncanny.
She felt a need to hand Aniela the change before she walked around the counter where, once back, Aniela handed it right back.
She got her drink and hovered around for a few minutes hoping to see Dorek, but he didn’t come.
“Dobranoc!” she shouted to Aniela while leaving.
“Good night!” Aniela shouted back.
Mary walked outside. It was a clear, cold night and the full moon was already a quarter of the way up the sky. A good thing. The city hadn’t replaced the bulbs in the street lamps on her street that a bunch of thugs had systematically destroyed a month ago. Several people complained (she even read about it in the newspaper) but a lot of people compensated for it by turning on their front porch lights— but an equal amount didn’t, and pockets of darkness usually loomed on her way home. With the moon, though, all was well. It lit her path back home like an old friend.
CHAPTER 4
“No! No! Ahhh, goddd! Help! Someone please help!”
Furniture fell over, several large thumps and then a final—
“Ahhhhhhhhh!”
Mary held a steak knife in one hand, and a cell phone in the other.
“911. What is the emergency?”
Mary whispered. “I think someone has just been killed in the apartment above me.”
“Do not check. Are you safe?”
“I’m not sure. I think so.”
“OK, stay where you are and do not leave your apartment. We’re dispatching someone right now. Is this Mary Schmidt at 1408 Hanover Avenue?”
“Yes,” Mary said.
“Someone’s enroute.”
Mary hid in the darkness, and listened to the noises above her. Someone was still walking around, but it sounded like an animal now. Soft clicks of nails on hardwood back and forth. Pacing.
Had Scott just been killed?
Why would anyone kill him?
Growling? Muttering? Deep, incessant ramblings like a satanic ritual.
Scott seemed like a nice guy, even though instinct had spawned her to hide every time he went up the fire escape. The only bad thing about him she could recall was that he listened to jazz a little too loud on occasion, and on warm evenings he’d grill steak just outside his door and invite her up for some. He gave her the willies, and she hated whenever he did. Part of her knew he was just trying to be nice, but all the same… Maybe it was a good thing he was dead… She wouldn’t have to awkwardly come up with reasons why she couldn’t hang out with him anymore.
Jesus, Mary! What a horrible thought! He was a nice guy!
He never had company, though. Who would kill him?
She gripped her steak knife and waited for the police.
A flashlight shined through her window that was perpendicular to her back door, and then someone knocked on her door.
She went to it, steak knife in hand.
It was Dorek again! Wearing sunglasses with horrible hair. He apparently hadn’t been to see Aniela tonight.
“Mary Schmidt?” he said through the glass looking at a notepad in his hand.
Mary straightened her hair away from her face and stood up as tall as she could muster. “Are you with the police? You don’t look like a police officer,” she said trying to be safe and seductive at the same time. “Do you have a badge I can see?” She crossed her arms over her chest. Damn she wanted to jump him.
“I’m special division,” Dorek said. “Have you heard anything else up there?”
“Movement. Animal noises. Whoever, whatever was up there that hurt Scott is still there.”
“So you think there were two people?” Dorek asked. “Are you sure?”
“Why would Scott scream like that if he was alone? It was definitely him, and it sounded like he was fighting someone… before he screamed that one final time.”
Dorek’s eyes narrowed and he took off his sunglasses. Steel blue eyes. Entrancing. “We’ll see. Listen, there’s a lot of stuff going on in the city right now. I don’t have backup, but I’m 90% sure Scott is OK. Do you mind coming out and coming up with me? I might need your help.”
“You want me to protect you?” she asked, blushing.
“Well no, not protect me,” he said. “Just be with me. Help me identify him. I’ve never met him before.”
“OK,” Mary said.
She felt so… happily complacent.
She walked to the door and let herself out. It was cold, and she only had a flimsy cotton shirt with no bra. Breasts jiggling and swaying as she walked— her perky, large nipples easily seen in the cold night air.
Dorek’s eyes widened.
He stammered and said, “Do you want to go get a jacket or something?”
“Do you think I should get a jacket?” she said, smiling at him, oblivious to the effect she was having on him.
“Yes, at least a sweater or something,” he said. “You’ll get sick walking around here like that.”
“OK,” she said, and walked back inside like a well behaved drone.
She took her shirt off in her cold, poorly heated room and exposed her large, full breasts to the frigid air. She grabbed two sweaters she hoped he would like. One a khaki button up with a large collar, but the chest was open and would show a lot of cleavage. The second a tight, red v-neck. It, too, would show off her breasts well.
She walked to him smiling, chest still completely naked, and he shrieked, “Get back inside!”
Confused, she asked, “But which one do you like?”
He closed his eyes and pointed, “The red one, the red one!”
She slipped it on and stuck her chest out. “Better?” she asked. Her nipples were still hard and she noticed Dorek couldn’t take his eyes off of them.
“Yes, you look very good,” he said emphatically. “So very… are you ready to head up?”
She nodded and smiled. She noticed he had his hand on the front of his trousers. Was he hiding a hard-on? Didn’t he know he didn’t have to do that for her? Ever?
What was coming over her?
Who cares! He’s here, and I’m going to capitalize on that.
“After you,” he said and got out of her way.
Mary smiled. Glad she was wearing her yoga pants and showing off her large bum. She stuck her ass out and wiggled it to and fro as she went up the stairs. She could feel his eyes on her. Oh yes, she could feel them burning into her. To her left was a window reflecting the night. She looked in it to see if he was checking her out.
He wasn’t there!
She turned back to see where he had gone and saw that he was right behind her, eyes locked on her bubble butt.
He scratched his head and looked away.
“Just a little farther, ma’am,” he said, pretending he was studying something on the far horizon.
She smiled to herself. Keep on looking, handsome, she thought.
She made it to the top, inwardly proud of herself for conquering her fear of the fire escape. But it really wasn’t that big of a deal. She’d do anything for him.
For whatever reason he wasn’t right behind her when she got to the top. She peeped over the railing and saw t
hat he was repositioning himself in his pants.
Ooh, he did have a hard-on? He didn’t have to hide it from her!
And ooh was it big! She could see the bulge of it going straight up his belly and pushing his belt out.
Eight, maybe 10 inches. Hell, maybe even twelve.
If she pulled his pants out a little, she’d be able to see the tip of it easily. It was right there.
She licked her lips excitedly and went to do it.
He turned away from her and knocked on the door.
“Scott! Are you there? Scott?” he banged on the back door. His arms chiseled and long.
“Do you have a girlfriend or a wife?” Mary asked.
“Um no. Hey Mary, I need you to do something really quick…” he turned and smiled at her.
“What is it? No, it doesn’t matter. I’ll do it.”
“Do my socks match?” he asked and pulled up his trousers.
“Huh?” she looked down at his feet. “No, not in the slightest. Why would a pink and brown sock match?” she looked at him like he was crazy and noticed his sunglasses were back on.
A fog lifted in her brain.
CHAPTER 5
She put her arms around herself and shivered. What the hell was she doing out here wearing nothing but flimsy yoga pants and a sweater with no bra or coat? She looked like a complete slut with her nipples sticking out like they were. She tried to hide them, but it was difficult. Her girls were big and she was shivering.
She jumped up and down and tried and warm up. Fuck it was cold!
Dorek resumed pounding on the door and shouting for Scott to come and let them in.
Mary peeped in the window trying vainly to warm her arms up with her hands as she did.
“What is that?” she asked and pointed.
“What is what?” Dorek said and walked to her.
She pointed again. “Something weird is lying on the floor over there. Do you see it?”
Dorek pointed his flashlight in.
“Fuck!” he yelled. “It’s a…”
“A what?”
Bears of Burden: WYATT Page 85