by Karen Reis
I could tell Sean did not want to let me go, but he did, and he watched me as I went inside. I waved to him as I closed the door, and I looked out the peep hole as I locked it. Sean stood outside my door rocking on his heels, a huge smile on his face. He turned on a heel and whistled a tune back to his apartment. He was happy.
I put a hand to my lips. I was happy too.
Chapter 6
The next day, I went about my regular morning routine. I ate breakfast, I listened to the morning news on KNPR, and then I got ready for work. It would have been a perfectly normal morning for me if not for the fact that I didn’t taste what I was eating, and I didn’t pay the least bit attention to what was on the news. I was lost in thought, going over every detail of my evening with Sean last night, remembering how he had held my hand, how he had touched my face, how I’d been kissed. Just as I was mindlessly dropping my cereal bowl in the sink, a knock came on my door. I smiled in expectation of it being Sean, because no one ever knocked on my door in the morning. Looking through the peephole, I beamed. Sean was standing there in his coveralls, his hands thrust into his pockets, but there was a grim expression on his face. Worried, I opened the door immediately.
“Hey,” I said. I couldn’t help but smile at him. “What’s up?”
Sean didn’t return my smile. In fact, he looked downright unhappy. “I have something to show you.” He gestured for me to come outside with him. “It’s pretty bad.”
I frowned but slipped on my shoes and followed him down the stairs. He pointed, “There. I was coming down to go to work and I saw that.”
I stared dumbly. He was pointing at my car, which was no longer a solid blue, but a rainbow of colors. “Someone spray-painted your car,” Sean said unnecessarily, and I nodded.
Someone had done more than spray paint it; they had turned it into a billboard of hatred. Horrible curse words were sprayed along the sides and the windows, and across the windshield it said, “Faggot lover,” in bright, drippy red letters.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. I just stood there staring at my poor car in shock. Sean watched me carefully as I took the sight in, and he asked, “You want me to call the police for you?”
I could only nod. He made the call from his cell phone, and as he was giving the information to the police, I walked all around my car to inspect it. My tires had been slashed and my antennae mangled, but what really got to me was the giant red “Slut” sprayed on the rear window, because it reminded me horribly of my phone conversation with Nancy the other day. I made a choked sound from deep in my throat and I must have looked like I was about to faint or have an apoplectic episode because Sean hurried over to my side, put his arm around my waist and hauled me over to his truck, which he promptly unlocked. He all but lifted me up onto the seat and literally held my hand as he simultaneously finished up on the phone and tried to calm me down by rubbing my fingers and hand and lower arm.
Embarrassed by my weak behavior, I tried to push him away, but Sean wouldn’t let me. He refused to leave me on my own, and his dark eyes were full of stubborn concern. He hung up and looked into my eyes very carefully and asked, “Do you need me to call an ambulance? You’re all white in the face.”
“No!” I snapped, irrationally annoyed at his concern. “I’m perfectly fine. I was just shocked, that’s all. I’m not going to fall to pieces on you.”
Sean looked at me skeptically. “It’s okay to cry if you want.”
I retorted angrily, “I am not going to cry!”
But to prove myself wrong, big, hot tears welled up in my eyes and my face crumpled. Now, I have watched myself cry in front of a mirror, and it’s not pretty, especially when my face crumples. I was at once mortified by how I thought I must look to Sean and I tried to slide off the seat and push past him again so that I could run up to my apartment and be alone, but Sean stopped me, pulled me back to him and put his arms around me. He was warm and solid and smelled like soap. Having his arms around me made me feel so safe and so good that I cried harder. I clung to him and buried my face in his clean coveralls, and he just stood there and let me, rubbing his hands up and down my back.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he repeated over and over. “It’ll be alright.”
Despite my tears, I still was aware that were outside and anyone could walk by at any time and see me weeping, so I tried desperately to get myself under control. It took me a few moments, but when I did I wiped my eyes and my nose and then pushed away from Sean.
He loosened his grip, but did not let me go. I sniffed, not bothering to fight him. I didn’t really want him to let me go anyways. “Why would anyone do something like this to my car?” I finally asked, my voice raw from crying.
Sean pulled a clean rag from his back pocket and handed it to me. “I think the words ‘Fagot Lover’ pretty much tell you who did it and why,” he answered as I wiped my eyes and nose. “It was probably the same people who threw that brick in Charles’ and Glen’s window that did this to you. They probably didn’t like that you told a news camera that you were friends with a couple of gay men.”
I sniffed again and wadded up the rag in my fist. “That’s horrible.” I moved close to Sean once more and rested my head against his chest. “What am I going to do about my car?”
Sean didn’t answer, just rubbed his hands up and down my back and waited with me for the cops to come. Eventually we moved to sit down on the sidewalk nearby.
“You should probably call into work and tell them that you’ll be late,” he suggested. “I already did myself.”
It was sensible and I nodded. “I may as well just take the day off, considering that I need to get my car towed and new tires put on. All that is going to be so expensive,” I said gravely. “The tow truck will cost at least $75, then four new tires, then a paint job.” It was going to put a dent in my savings account.
“Your insurance should cover it,” Sean said helpfully, but I shook my head.
“My car is so old and worth so little that I just have basic coverage. It doesn’t cover vandalism, only accidents.”
“I’m sorry,” was all he could say. He let me call my supervisor form his cell phone, and once I hung up I hung my head in my hands. Sean put an arm around my shoulders. “Are you gonna’ be alright?”
I shook my head. “No,” I said bluntly. “Why did this happen? Is it really because some freak wants to teach me a lesson? I don’t get it.”
Sean had nothing to say, but at least I knew how Charles and Glen felt: violated. The police didn’t help matters. Both of us were interviewed by a pair of male officers who snapped a few pictures and asked us if we’d seen or heard anything last night.
Of course we hadn’t. If we had, I thought, we’d have called 911 last night.
“Is there anyone besides the vandals you already mentioned who attacked your neighbors that might be responsible for this?” one officer asked. “Anyone at work? Anyone in your family?”
“Well,” I began in a small voice. “There is this guy at work that I went out on a date with the night of the original vandalism, and he’s kind of angry at me right now because I didn’t want to see him again.” I paused. “I don’t think he thinks I’m a gay loving whore, though.”
“What’s his name?” the officer asked, pen and paper in hand.
“Dan. Dan Doherty. But I’m sure he’s pretty harmless.”
The officer wrote down Dan’s name anyways. “Anyone else you can think of?” he asked me. “Anyone in your complex?”
“No,” I shook my head. “There’s no one here that I can think of. I mean, I haven’t felt like I’ve been watched or followed or anything like that, and I don’t have much to do with anyone besides Sean here or Charles and Glen. The only other person who doesn’t like me right now is my stepmother, but I don’t think she’d vandalize my car, either.”
“And what’s her name?”
“She’ll really give me what for if you call her up and ask her about this,” I pleaded with him.
“We’ll be discreet, ma’am,” the officer said. “But we have to do our jobs and be thorough.”
I nodded. “Okay. Her name is Nancy Vitagliano, and she is currently of the opinion that I’m a fagot loving whore. She was really pissed when she saw the news with my interview on TV.”
“The two of you had an altercation about that?”
I nodded. “She called me at work right after she saw it. The news, I mean.” I hesitated. “It was a verbal altercation. She told me that I was going to go to hell for saying nice things about homosexuals and that I was slut.” I smiled grimly at him. “My mother is very religious, as you can no doubt see.”
The officer caught my sarcastic tone and returned my grim smile. “We’ll file this along and try to investigate, but there’s not much we can do since no one has seen the perpetrators. But we’ll do our best.”
“Thank you,” I said, depressed that I would get no immediate justice.
The officer handed me my copy of the police report and then he and his partner drove away. I turned to Sean, who was standing only a few feet away from me and I smiled at him tentatively. “I guess that’s that for now. Thanks for everything.”
“You want me to hang around while you make some phone calls?” Sean asked.
I shook my head. “Nah. You go on. I can take care of things.”
Sean brow furrowed. “Are you sure? Because I can stay…”
I smiled. “No. I’ll be alright by myself. Really.”
He was silent for a moment as if trying to decide whether to believe me or not. At last he said, “Come upstairs with me. I want to give you something.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling suddenly tired. Sean took my hand and led me up to his apartment. On his refrigerator door were a scattering of business cards held up by a bunch of beat up looking magnets, and he plucked several cards off. “This is the number of a good towing company,” he said as he handed me one card at time. “This is the number of a good paint shop I’ve used before. At this tire shop, tell Julio I sent you. He’ll take good care of you, and this,” he handed me one last card, “is the number for where I work. If you need anything, or if anyone gives you a hard time, you can call me. My cell phone is listed as well.”
I read each card carefully. “Wow,” I said with deep appreciation. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure who I was going to call or where to go for all this.” I looked up at him. He had given me just what I needed. That deserved a hug, and for extra measure I stepped up on my tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you,” I said again.
“I’ll call you on my lunch break?” he asked me, and I nodded. “You’re sure you’ll be okay by yourself?” he asked me once more. I laughed and then pushed him towards his door.
“Yes! I’ll be fine! Go to work.” Feeling brave, I reached up and kissed him quickly on the lips. “I’ll talk to you at noon.”
Sean left, reluctantly, and I went inside my apartment and ate some chocolate cookies, dreading the things I had to do that day. What I hadn’t told Sean was that I wasn’t really fine. I was scared. There was someone out there who hated me. I was sure that this wasn’t going to be the last of my problems with this person. I didn’t relish the idea of having to look over my shoulder all the time, but there was nothing else I could do.
Eventually, I called a tow truck, and he towed me and my car to Sean’s tire store, where Julio did indeed take good care of me. Still, four new tires didn’t come free, and I winced as I slid my credit card through the machine and signed my name on the receipt. I waited for more than an hour for the tires to be installed while workmen came and went, all of them casting curious glances at the “Faggot Loving Whore”. Then, feeling extremely self-conscious, I drove my ugly car to Sean’s paint place and forked over another large sum to have it be painted and the windows cleaned. I was told that my car would be ready by the next afternoon.
It was 3 o’clock by then and I felt hungry and tired and empty. Having no other recourse, I took the bus home. Calling anyone and having to put up with conversation and explanations was not something I wanted to deal with at that time. What I did want was to ignore the outside world for a while and just sleep, especially since I’d not gotten much the night before. I dozed on the bus, and it took me two hours to get home. Sean wasn’t home yet, so I left a message on Sean’s home phone saying that I was too tired for dinner tonight and could we move it to tomorrow? Then I crashed face first onto my bed and slept until about 10 o’clock.
I opened my eyes drowsily as I tried to figure out what had woken me up. Pounding, I realized. Someone was pounding on my door. Scared and not knowing who could possibly be outside, I rolled out of bed and groped for my stun gun which I always kept on my bedside table while I slept. I stumbled to my door and looked out the peep hole.
“Carrie!” a man hollered. “Carrie! You quit hiding from me and get out here! I know you’re home! I got something to say to you!”
It was Dan Doherty.
“Carrie! Open your door!” he yelled, beating his fists against it again.
I stood back. There was no way on earth I was going to open my door to that maniac. But what should I do? I froze for a second, then grabbed my cell phone and dialed 911.
“911,” said a female voice. “What is the nature of your emergency?”
“There’s a guy outside my door yelling and beating on it. He wants me to come outside!” I said urgently, watching Dan through the peep hole.
“Do not go outside or open the door to him!” the operator told me quickly. “What’s your name and address?”
I told her and she dispatched the police. “Do you know this man?” she asked me.
“I can hear you on the phone, Carrie! Don’t make me break your window to get at you!” Dan yelled.
“Oh my God!” I cried out. “He’s going to break my window!”
“Calm down!” said the operator. “Tell me your address.”
I did. “The police are on their way,” she reassured me. “Is there a secure room you can go to that has lock?”
“No! I live in an upstairs studio apartment! There’s nowhere for me to go!”
I saw Dan’s shadow in front of my window, and just when I was sure that he was going to put a foot through it, the loudest car horn I’d ever heard went off. I jumped in fear. “What now?” I cried.
“Hey! What are you doing pounding on that door like that?”
I recognized that voice. It was Sean. He apparently hadn’t made it home till just then.
“Mind your own business, buddy!” Dan called back.
“I am minding my own business,” Sean said casually as he came quickly up the stairs. He was still in his work clothes, I saw. “The woman who lives behind that door is my business.”
“What’s going on?” the operator asked me. “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” I answered, gripping my phone as I watched Dan mouth off at Sean once more. “My b-my neighbor has come home and is warning Dan away.”
“The police should be there in moments, Carrie. Whatever happens between your neighbor and Dan, don’t go outside!”
It was hard to obey her though. Dan was in a rage, making good on his threat to make me sorry for dumping him. He was clearly out of control, and I wondered what he would do to Sean.
“Back away from the door,” Sean ordered Dan, his voice menacing. “I don’t care what’s gotten you so mad, but if you don’t do as I say, I will hurt you.”
Dan stood before Sean in his khakis and button up dress shirt, red in the face and heaving for breath. Sean was dirty and smudged, his tattoos on his arms showing, his bald head glowing in the porch light. He looked like a thug and I hoped that would be enough to scare Dan off.
For a moment, Dan seemed to waver, unsure about the man who was now only a few feet from him on the landing. In the distance though, I could hear police sirens, and it apparently hit Dan that he was about to be arrested. I don’t know if he figured that he had no choice or if he wanted to go ou
t in a blaze of glory, but he hollered, put his head down, and charged Sean like a bull.
I gasped in fear for Sean, but there wasn’t any reason to be afraid. Sean sidestepped him and Dan hit the railing. He stumbled and almost fell, but whirled around to face Sean almost immediately. He swung a fist to hit Sean, but Sean blocked the blow with his arm. His own fist connected with Dan’s nose, and Dan crumpled to the ground in a coughing, bloody mess just as the police zoomed into the parking lot. Immediately, Sean stepped away from Dan, put his hands up and faced the apartment wall. He knew the routine, I realized.
Of course. He used to be a professional criminal.
“What’s going on?” the operator asked. I had forgotten all about her. “The police are here, and Dan in on the ground,” I said distractedly.
“Alright, then I’m going to hang up now. Good luck there, Carrie.”
“Thank you. Bye.”
I threw my phone on the floor and unlocked my door. Sean eyed me as I rushed to his side, but he didn’t move from his position on the wall. “Thank you,” I whispered, but he just grunted at me in reply. The police were coming up the stairs with their guns drawn, yelling for Dan to get down as he was struggling to get up. I stepped closer to Sean at the sight of their guns.
The officers immediately cuffed Dan, but I had to explain to them who Sean was because they wanted to put him in cuffs too. Sean was allowed to go free while Dan was hauled moaning and dripping to the patrol car. For the second time in one day, I found myself filling out a police report.
The responding officers were the same ones who had come when Charles and Glen’s cars had been vandalized, and they remembered us as well. Dan was now a suspect in those crimes the officers explained after everything was sorted out and they had taken care of all the paperwork.
According to his explanation, Dan was upset over the fact that police had come and spoken to him while he was at work about the vandalism of my car. Humiliated by me for the last time, he had downed a few drinks and decided that he wanted some payback.