by Ray Garton
A Stranger
George was exhausted when he drove the car into the garage that evening. The radio station had recently undergone a change of ownership and, although he was immensely relieved to still have his job, he had the unpleasant task of firing some of the talent at the request of his new boss. He'd informed three disc jockeys of their termination that afternoon, as well as the sales manager, and it hadn't been easy. They were the best group he'd ever worked with, not a single rotten apple in the whole barrel, and he hated to see them split up. He felt worn and achy and wanted nothing more than to sit down in front of the television with a beer – maybe a screwdriver, or even a straight scotch – and get a little numb.
He knew something was different the moment he walked into the laundry room and couldn't hear a sound in the house. Even the washer and dryer were silent, and they were usually thumping with a load each evening. Dirty laundry was one of Karen's pet peeves and she washed something almost every day after work. And even if something wasn't in the wash, someone was usually knocking around in the kitchen or talking on the telephone or watching the television with the volume at full blast.
Tonight there was only silence.
He slipped his coat off as he walked through the kitchen and hung it on the coat rack in the hall. He could hear the television in the living room, the volume unusually low, and he stepped in to find Jen stretched out on the floor, sound asleep in front of a Cosby rerun. Kneeling beside her, he woke her gently and she smiled up at him.
"Hi, Dad."
"Hey, kiddo. Where is everybody."
"Sick."
"What?"
"Mom and Robby. I think they've got the flu. They're both in bed asleep."
"Have you eaten?"
"I made a sandwich. How was your day?"
"Not so good. Things are kind of tense at work right now. How about you?"
"Oh – “ She shrugged. " – same as usual."
"Do you have any homework?"
"I always have homework."
"Well, if you want any help, let me know." He started building a fire in the fireplace. "You sure you don't want anything more to eat, Jen?"
"Nope. I'm not hungry."
It was not like Karen to go to bed without feeding anyone. She must have felt pretty bad.
Once he had the fire burning, George went to the bedroom to check on Karen. She was curled up in bed. The closet light was on, but the door was only open a crack. Light fell on her puffy face and gave her skin a white pallor.
No, she did not look well at all.
George turned off the light and closed the door on his way out, then went to Robby's room.
"Hey, Dad," Robby croaked. He was just waking up, sitting on the edge of his bed with his face in his hands.
"How're you feeling?" George sat beside him and put his arm around the boy.
"Better. I think."
"You look better. You were pretty ugly this morning. Think it was the flu?"
"Prob'ly."
"Or did you just wear yourself out at Miss Dupree's last night?" He laughed and squeezed Robby's shoulder.
A look fell over Robby's face for an instant, then was gone – a look of slack-jawed horror so strong that, although brief, it made George flinch inwardly.
“Uh, we just, y’know, moved furniture, and stuff," Robby said. "She made dinner, but I wasn't very hungry. Guess it was the flu coming on."
"Yeah. Probably." George watched him a moment, waiting for another sign of that fearful look -
– Guilt, he thought, that's what it looked like -
– but it never came. "Must be the flu," he said, "because your mom's got it, now. She's in bed."
Robby rubbed his stomach and said, "I'm hungry. Anything for dinner?"
"I was gonna go to Carl's, Jr. and get a burger. Mom didn't cook anything. Want me to get something for you?"
He shrugged. "A burger. Some fries."
"Sure you can take it? You still don't look so great."
"Yeah. I think so."
"Okay, a burger and fries it is. Be back in a while."
On his way out, George asked Jen if she wanted to go along, but she was more interested in the TV.
* * * *
A moment before his dad had come into the room, Robby had awakened from a long murky dream. He felt hungover, drained, and it didn’t feel like the flu. After Dad left, he still felt foggy and parts of his body still ached. It was dark outside his windows and that only added to his feeling of disorientation. Once again, he found himself going over the previous night in his mind.
If being with Lorelle Dupree was going to screw him up this much every time, he decided he would rather go behind the gymnasium with Janine Flugel and engage in a little frustrating groping and fondling. At least his schoolwork wouldn't suffer and he wouldn't feel so wiped out. And so… guilty.
So dirty, he thought.
He put on his underwear and robe and went to the living room to watch some television. Jen was watching Cosby.
"Turn it to channel two," he said, falling onto the sofa.
"Why?"
"The Simpsons is on."
"So what?"
"I wanna watch it, that's so what."
“I was gonna turn it to Entertainment Tonight.”
“Entertainment Tonight sucks.”
"Oh, c'mon Robby, you always watch The Simpsons. You've seen all the reruns twice. I never get to watch Entertainment Tonight."
"Go ahead," he growled, "rot your brain. See if I care."
Jen changed the channel, said "Thanks," and gave him a kiss on the cheek as she left the living room. She came back with a Pepsi and sat down in front of the TV again. "Mom's sick, you know."
"Yeah, I know."
"Just like you."
"Yeah, I know."
Still staring at the television, she said, "She went to see Miss Dupree today. For a visit."
"Look, if you're gonna watch that stupid show, just watch it, okay? Otherwise, turn it to two."
Robby pulled the afghan from the back of the sofa and curled up beneath it, feeling achy, and Jen said nothing more.
* * * *
Jen sat Indian-style in front of the television as Robby's breathing grew slower and more rhythmic. She had difficulty paying attention to Entertainment Tonight and although she watched the screen, her mind wandered. Next thing she knew, the show was over and a half hour had passed in what seemed like a heartbeat.
She heard Dad's car pull up in the driveway and went to the door to greet him, but she heard voices outside. Dad was talking to someone. A woman.
He came in a few moments later and handed her a Carl's, Jr. bag that smelled of Western Bacon Cheeseburgers and fries and said, "Here, honey, give this to Robby. I'll be right back."
"Where you going?"
"There's something wrong with Miss Dupree's car and it's starting to rain. I'm going to see if I can help her before she gets soaked. There's something in that bag for you, in case you decide you're hungry." He hurried out the door.
Jen went back to the living room and put the bag on the coffee table; Robby was sound asleep on the sofa and she decided a hamburger wasn't enough reason to wake him. She crept around the sofa to the front window and parted the curtains slightly to peer outside.
Dad was jogging across the street to Miss Dupree's driveway, where she was shining a flashlight under the hood of her car. The wind blew tiny specks of moisture against the windowpane as Jen watched them for what seemed a long time, until Miss Dupree finally got behind the wheel of her car and started it up. Dad slammed the hood down as she turned off the engine and got out to speak with him. He shook his head, then she touched his arm, beckoning him toward the house. He seemed to think about it a moment, then shrugged and followed her and the bobbing beam of her flashlight into the house. The porch light went off, leaving only the glow from the windows.
Jen let the curtain drop back into place and went to the bag on the coffee table. She figured the small chees
eburger was for her, so she got it out and opened it on the floor, took a bite and channel-surfed on TV. But the burger tasted like cardboard and she couldn’t find anything interesting to watch.
She wondered why everyone in the family was suddenly becoming so friendly with this Miss Dupree when Jen hadn't even met her yet.
She wrapped the burger in its napkin, stuffed it back in the bag and went to the window again. No sign of Dad.
She thought of the scream she'd heard that afternoon after getting off the bus, still certain it had been her mom's voice -
– I was just visiting Miss Dupree. Our new neighbor -
– and of the sudden change in Mom's face when Jen told her what she'd heard -
– It was nothing… maybe a cat.
Moving away from the window, Jen watched Robby a moment, to make sure he was deep in sleep, then hurried silently down the hall to do the same with Mom. After slipping on her coat, she sneaked out the front door, opening the screen slowly so it wouldn't screech and closing the door behind her with a faint click.
She watched Miss Dupree's front door closely as she crossed the front lawn to the street. If her dad came out, she would hurry back inside. She didn't want him to think she was spying on him, or anything. She wasn't exactly sure what she was doing herself. But he didn't come out. By the time she got across the street to the edge of Miss Dupree's lawn, there was still no sign of anyone coming out of the house.
The cold rain hit her face like icy needles shooting from the sky and Jen hugged herself against the cold, wondering what she should do. If she got too close to the house, she wouldn't be able to run back home if Dad came out. But what would be wrong with that? She could say she'd decided to come over with him and meet the new neighbor. That wasn't so bad, was it?
She stepped onto the lawn and moved slowly toward the house, watching the window and door, and through the whisper of the rain, she heard laughter. It wasn't the kind of laughter you hear when someone tells a joke or does a funny trick; it was lower and more… secret.
Jen took a few more steps across the lawn and nearly dropped to the ground when she heard a man's voice.
"What are you doing?"
She spun around and saw a shadow standing beneath the streetlight, leaning on a cane in his right hand.
"Do you live here?" he asked. His voice was low but clear.
"I-I… no, I live… across the street."
"Oh."
She waited for more, but he just watched her for a while, his face invisible beneath the hat he wore, left hand buried in the pocket of his long coat.
"Why are you sneaking around?" he asked finally.
"I'm not."
"Oh. It looked like you were. And usually, young ladies who look like they're sneaking around are doing something they shouldn't."
He sounded very friendly; in fact, he sounded as if he were smiling. But Jen had heard plenty about strangers – especially strange men – who seemed friendly.
"If you live across the street, why are you over here after dark in the rain?"
"My dad's in there. He was helping our new neighbor fix her car."
"New neighbor?" He took a step forward, leaning heavily on the cane.
"Uh-huh." Jen didn't move, but her whole body was tensed, ready to run.
"What's your new neighbor's name?" His voice changed. He sounded nervous now, and his question took on a tone of urgency.
"Miss… Miss… " Jen clenched her fists, wondering if it was a good idea to tell him. Maybe he knew Miss Dupree and she didn't want him to know she lived here.
"What's your name?" the man asked, taking another step toward her and pulling his hand from his pockets.
Jen moved back.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered. "Really. I just need to know – it's important – I need to know about your new neighbor. What is her name?"
"I'm… I'm gonna get my dad now."
He lurched forward quickly. "No, please believe me, I don't mean you any harm. I want to help you. But you have to tell me about your new neighbor. What's her name? What does she look like?"
Not wanting to take her eyes from him, Jen walked quickly backward over the grass until she lost her balance and tumbled back on her behind, landing with a grunt.
"Oh," the man breathed, holding out his left hand and hurrying toward her, sinking the cane into the wet lawn and asking, "Are you all right? Are you hurt?"
Miss Dupree's porch light came on, spilling light over the lawn, and -
– Jen's fists closed on the wet grass and her throat tightened with fear when the light illuminated the man closing in on her.
His face was melting as he rushed forward, dribbling down one side of his skull like hot wax. He staggered closer, his gloved hand outstretched and -
– horrified, Jen tried to scream but released only a hiss of breath as she reached up and clawed at the hand, her nails digging into the glove's material, and -
– the man balked in the sudden light, then pulled back, slipping his hand out of the glove and the glow of the porch light was reflected dully on the bony silver fingers along which ran thin cables that disappeared into the coat sleeve. He gawked for a moment at the glove dangling from Jen's hand and snatched it away, stuffing it into his coat pocket. He backed up as the lock on Miss Dupree's door clicked.
Jen rolled over and bounded to her feet, rushing toward the door as it opened and voices filtered out from inside. She stopped on the porch and turned.
The man was gone.
Her mind raced. If she told her dad about the man, he'd wonder why she was wandering around outside Miss Dupree's house and might even get angry. If she didn't, she could tell him she was just coming over to see him and meet Miss Dupree, and she wouldn't have to mention the man at all.
But her hands were trembling and her heart was thundering in her chest. Wouldn't Dad want to know if someone like that creepy, hideous man was roaming the neighborhood? Would he even believe her, though, if she described the man to him?
Probably not.
Jen decided to play it safe.
"I don't want you to forget it," Miss Dupree was saying as she opened the door.
"Jennifer! What are you doing here?" George stood in the doorway with Miss Dupree's hand on his shoulder.
Jen blinked up at her dad, afraid he was angry because that was the only time he called her Jennifer. "Everybody was asleep," she said, trying hard not to sound as scared as she felt. "I thought I'd come over with you and… and meet Miss Dupree."
The woman dropped her hand from George's shoulder and stepped onto the porch, smiling. "Well, I'm glad you did, Jen," she said. "I've heard a lot about you and it's nice to finally meet." She held out her hand. Jen took it hesitantly and they shook.
An enormous dog peeked out the door and Jen gasped.
"He won't hurt you," Miss Dupree said. "This is my dog, Sodom. You can pet him."
Jen reached out a hand and the dog sniffed curiously, then licked it. She smiled as she stroked his head.
"We should get home, Jen," her dad said. "You shouldn't be out in this rain. I don't want you getting the bug that's going around."
"It was nice meeting you, Jen. You're welcome over here anytime. You can come walk the dogs for me. They'd love that."
Jen waved to her as Dad led her across the lawn and into the street.
"You know better than to be walking around in this kind of weather," he said with annoyance.
"Well… “
"Well what?" Now he sounded angry.
"Everybody was asleep."
"What difference does that make?"
Although she didn't know what she was apologizing for – his anger made no sense to her – Jen said, "I'm sorry."
"All right," he grumbled as they went into the house.
In the living room, Jen took off her coat and saw that Robby was gone – he'd probably gone back to bed. She sat down in front of the television again. She heard Dad pop open a can of beer in the ki
tchen and wondered if he was really angry, the kind of angry that stuck with him for a while.
She was still trembling and couldn't quite catch her breath. If Dad came back into the living room now, she would probably seem more guilty than he already thought she was, so she decided to go to her room. As she headed down the hall, Jen heard him murmur to himself in the kitchen:
"Son… of a… bitch."
* * * *
Robby did not wake easily. His eyes felt glued together and his body was heavy as lead. He thought he was on the sofa in the living room, but when he finally pried his eyes open to see who was shaking him, he was staring at the Bangles poster on his bedroom wall.
"Robby?" Jen whispered.
He rolled onto his back and squinted up at her. "What?"
"Sorry for waking you."
"Whassmatter?"
"Are you sure you're awake?"
He rubbed his eyes and struggled to sit up. "Yeah, I'm awake. What's wrong?"
She sat on the bed and glanced cautiously at the closed door. "There was a man outside."
"When? What time is it?" He found his clock. "It's only eight o'clock."
"A little while ago. Out on the sidewalk."
"So, what was he doing?"
"He talked to me. Wanted to know who our new neighbor was."
"He talked to you? What were you doing outside?"
"Well, Dad went over to Miss Dupree's to help fix her car, so… um, I followed him over a little later. And there was this man.”
Robby buried his face in his hands and groaned. His head felt like it was filled with sand. "Why didn't you tell Dad?"
"Just listen, okay? He wore a long coat, like an overcoat y'know? And a hat, too, like the ones detectives wear in the old movies. And he walked with a cane and, and he was really ugly, like part of his face was melting, or something. Like the guy in that old wax museum movie we watched last weekend? Remember? You know, the scary one? Wax House, or – “
"House of Wax. Vincent Price.”
"Yeah, that one. And he had a silver hand, like a robot’s hand. He wore a glove over it, but the glove came off in my hand and it was silver. Y'know, all metal? Just like in The Terminator after his skin came off!"