Cold Fear

by Timothy Friesenhahn

  He wasn't smart enough to think about what she was doing to him. He knew there was a word for it, but he couldn't discern what it was. In shock, he closed his eyes. He’d thought he could just get out of her car and run away from the situation, but he knew he couldn't do that. Most of the people in town loved him for being the most polite and loyal young man around. This lady was going to tarnish his reputation. He looked her in the eyes and was feeling like he might cry, but he decided he would do whatever vile act she was wanting and then get away from her and try to forget about it. He looked her in the eyes as he shook his head, confirming that he was going to oblige her and do what she wanted.

  As she leaned towards him, he realized she was going to kiss him. He could feel her breath brush across his lips as she leaned in closer. The more he stared into her eyes the more he felt like he wanted to kiss her. Trying to shake the newly felt conviction for lust towards this strange but striking woman; he slipped into his own head in attempt to retreat from her kiss. Her hand cupped the back of his head and stopped his escape, pulling him back toward her. Their lips touched and his body, for a mere second, fell limp and he invited her in willingly. Her tongue reached out and grazed across his lips. A sharp pain shot through his neck and everything went blurry.

  The beautiful lady leaned away from him and as the light faded from his eyes, he thought he heard her say, “you will be mine hun, mine forever.”

  He yearned for Terry for a long while. Their date was going to be the first of many, but it never happened. In the big black car of the doppelganger of Audrey Hepburn something happened to him. When he woke up in the back seat of the pretty lady's car, he was far from home. His life would change forever. By doing the small favor she asked, he had unwittingly and unwillingly given his life to her.

  Drinking another warm beer and lighting up a fresh cigarette, he sat in his empty, smelly camper and thought about his one bad choice. Of course, that one bad choice led to so many more in the years that followed. He remembered taking her ride and he never even asked her name. He knew what her name was now, however. Years later, he realized what she had done to him on the side of that dirt road. Then, he was not smart enough to think of the word in which described what she had done to him. He knew it now. Blackmail. She was going to blackmail him if he didn't do what she wanted. He had been doing favors for her for a little over fifty years, now.

  Chapter 4

  The house, even though it was impressively cleaned, still smelled of mold. Stale smoke from years of smoking lingered through the old house. The house itself was one of the older ones in the area.

  Atkinson, Texas was a small town toward the north-west edge of the state. Before the panhandle began its span, sat right on the corner was the mysterious little town. No more than three thousand people inhabited the small town. Built in the late eighteen hundred’s, the small house still stood, and was in remarkable shape for something that was well over a hundred years old.

  The wind blew, the old house creaked and popped as its old frame vibrated in the winter air. Shivering with the house, young Cecilia Ramirez shook herself, hoping that would warm her up. It was one of the coldest, if not the coldest, winters she had ever experienced in north Texas.

  The snow fell at an alarming rate, nonetheless, she had been asked one last favor of her employer. Ms. McQuaid had asked Cecilia, or Cici as the old lady often called her, to bring her ashes home. Cici also had one other small favor that the lady had asked of her. It was a strange favor but one she would see through no matter what. When the Ms. Mcquaid's grandson was to arrive to inspect the house and her belongings, Cici was to flatter him. Her boss of the last eight years told her if she couldn't bring herself to do it, then she would understand.

  Standing in the cold house, she didn't really expect for the old lady's grandson, Tanner, to show up as quickly as she’d said he might. Ms. McQuaid told her that she was a beautiful young lady who deserved a good man like Tanner. Baffled by her employers last request, she tried to politely decline the meeting, but the old lady was her friend and had always been very generous to Cici and her family. She had asked her boss several times in the last days of her life about her grandson's wife. Each time, Ms. McQuaid would sneer and twist her face in disgust, then spit at the floor.

  “She is a worthless whore. Your beauty will captivate my grandson. I know it,” she’d say.

  Cici never questioned the old lady, but she wondered how she could know anything about her grandson. She was pretty sure that she’d only mentioned him a handful of times over the last eight years. Also, she knew that her boss had met her grandson only once in his entire life. Looking at the cheap plastic box that contained her old friends’ ashes, Cici was deciding on how to approach Tanner and his wife when they arrived. She knew there wasn't much she could do but return to her apartment and await his call. She had left her number on the fridge as the old lady had requested, but hoped that he wouldn’t call her.

  Before leaving the house, she went to the restroom, while washing her hands she stared at herself in the mirror. She wasn't a dense woman, her beauty was striking and she could have used her looks to gain prosperity in life, but her family was more important. Taking care of her dying father was her number one priority. Her mother slaved at the small factory where most of the town’s people worked. Her father couldn't get the medical attention he needed because, like herself, he was living in Texas illegally. They had no choice but to escape their home. When the cartel moved out of their small town in northern Mexico, the crime rate rocketed. There was no one to control what was going on, like they had been years prior. Her little brother and her mother’s sister were both murdered in gang related attacks. Their home her father had built with his own two hands was set afire by one of her sister’s enemies and burnt to the ground. They had nowhere to return to.

  In a time when her small family needed help the most, they found nothing but ridicule and fear. The new president was hunting people like her and her father down as if they were animals. They’d heard the stories of the camps that her kind of people were kept at. Her father was already dying and, surely, he would die faster if I.C.E caught them. They lived in fear most days. Cici had plenty of money saved up that she had earned working for Ms. McQuaid over the years. Her dead boss was the only one who ever lent a helping hand towards her and her family.

  Looking at herself in the mirror, she noticed her dark skin was evidently dry from the cold winds that blew through the land. Her dark brown eyes were blood shot from lack of sleep listening to her father beg for death and her mother’s cries. Her high cheek bones sat firm and her long dark hair draped behind her shoulders highlighting her thick red lips and light brown eyes.

  The only choice she had was to keep giving life the best shot she could. Eventually, she would have to marry someone, or the government would catch her. The new president was hell bent on persecuting her people. She understood that there were criminals among immigrants, but there were crooks among all nationalities. No good came from the human hunt down that was pushed on immigrants from Mexico and central America; all it brought was a new fueled hate from the people that lived in the states legally. Whites, blacks, her own people alike; they were fueled by the hate that was instilled in them at a young age, to get rid of the people who were living in the U.S. illegally. Even if some of the people, if not most of the them, had nowhere to go if they were apprehended. They were just like her and her family.

  Pulling her beanie over her head, she prepared herself for the two mile walk to her home. The snow was falling slower than when she arrived to make sure the house was still in order waiting Tanner and his wife's arrival.

  Double checking to make sure the manila envelope was still on the fridge, she picked it up and sat back down. She touched a picture of the old lady and reminisced on her years cleaning her house and taking care of her. Cici was grateful for everything her boss had given her. She was more than generous with her pay. The only thing that ever seemed out of place wa
s Ms. McQuaid’s one friend, an old guy who smoked more cigarettes then anyone she’d ever seen in her life. But other than that, she was thankful for the years she got with Ms. McQuaid. She’d saved almost every penny she had earned.

  The best medical care in Mexico was what she would seek for her father and a small apartment for them to live in while he was being treated.

  She shut the door and left the key under a small stone on the right side of the porch. The information Tanner received about attaining his grandmother's estate, would have notified him on where to find the key. Maybe they sent a spare to him, Cici didn't like to assume, though.

  She crossed her arms in front of her as she hurriedly walked to her home to check on her father. The cold wind blasted her face as she tried her best to hide it from the frigid air. The only relief she had was that snow was not falling at the moment, so for that she was thankful.

  As she was walking, she noticed a big pickup truck driving slowly in front of her. A big brawny white boy sat behind the steering wheel; his cowboy Latino friend set next to him. By the way they were looking at her, she realized right away, they meant trouble. The Latino boy ascended out of the passenger window and was perched on the door. The truck slowed even more.

  “Go back to Mexico spic! You weren't born here like me! Get the fuck out! I hope that wall crushes you bitch!” he yelled.

  Desperately trying to ignore the hateful words spewing from his mouth, she decided to turn right and cut into the woods next to the narrow sidewalk she was walking on. She could easily hike through the woods and circle back when they were out of sight. However, before she could turn and escape the hateful glares and words, the driver of the truck slung a cup full of tobacco spit on her. It stuck to her face and ran down her jacket and sweater. The stench that rose from the brown spit made her gag in revulsion. Crying out in disgust, she looked at them with sorrow in her eyes, and all they did was laugh and holler. The driver crept closer to her and spun his tires as hard as he could, covering her with dirty snow.

  Covered with dirt ridden snow and brown spit, she walked the rest of the way home crying. The spit and the tears were freezing to her face. She tried to keep her pace up, but the hate she had undergone, even though it wasn't the first time, made her cries slow her down, nonetheless.

  The small apartment complex was in sight so she hurried to check on her father. When she entered his room, she realized immediately that something wasn't right. She couldn't hear his wheezing; he’d struggled to breathe for months. Time had run out, he passed. Dropping to her knees, she tried to cry more, but nothing came from her eyes. Dry sobs were all she had left to offer her dead father.

  She called her mother as soon as she calmed down. Her mother told her that she would have to leave the apartment, because they were going to question her about her father’s legalities. They would want to see certification of citizenship from Cici as well, and she had none at present.

  Covering her father’s dead, frail face, she left him behind her. It was finished, all the money she had saved to help, meant nothing now. She cleaned herself up, grabbed her tote she stored her money in, and left the apartment. The old house was where she would have to stay for a day or two, and all she could do was hope that Tanner and his wife delayed their arrival.

  Chapter 5

  The drive from Greenfield to Atkinson was usually about a three-hour drive, but with the snow falling as fierce as it was, it would turn into a four-hour drive. Tanner sat behind the wheel, mostly silent. He glanced from the road to Hannah every now and then. As the miles dwindled on, it was quiet in the cab. Tanner realized he was falling out of love with his once beautiful and adored wife. Their common interests just seemed to no longer match up as well as they had in prior years.

  Nothing was there to be said between the two of them. His heart was beating slower due to the medication he was taking, and her mind was elsewhere as it had been for some time. There was still love between them, but not as it once was. His heart condition which left him impenitent, caused her to lash out in such a disgraceful manner. His eyes almost teared up when he thought about how much was lost between them, because of her bad choice.

  A real shitty decision, he thought.

  The more he thought about her as each lonely mile marker passed, the more resentment he felt toward her. The lonely stretches of road in this part of Texas were lavished with mere boredom for scenery. Unless, of course, you were a farmer; an old timer, a dweller of the land. Then, you would have had your head out of the window with excitement to see the whole lot of nothing that passed with each empty mile. Occasionally, there would be a small town you’d pass through; just as bland and architecturally structured as the one before it.

  Staring at the same highway that would stretch another one-hundred-eighty miles before him, he tried to remember the first and only time he had met his grandmother. With the windshield wipers moving frantically to push the snow away; their swish, swish noise and the tires rolling on the road were the only sounds to be heard in the car. The silence was vast between them, and as they drove down the lonely stretch of farmland highway, he remembered his encounter with his grandmother during his youth.

  Chapter 6

  Maybe he was nine or ten, he couldn't recall. His grandmother, who at that time looked far younger than she actually was, had come to visit. He and his mother lived alone in a small two-bedroom, one-bathroom house on the very outskirts of Greenfield. The same house he resided in. His grandmother was a sight to behold for she carried herself as no lady he had ever seen before. She had arrived in a big, old car and was dropped off by a raggedy looking man smoking a cigarette. Her skin seemed to glimmer in the sunshine that reigned down unto her. Smiling the whole time she’d spoke to his mother; he had just watched her in awe.

  His grandmother brought him a gift that day, and as he reminisced on her only visit, his mind wandered; he tried to remember what that gift was. He speculated that it had been nothing special because surely, he would have remembered if it was.

  The yellow dress she wore seemed to flow at her feet as she walked around their small home as she sipped homemade lemonade from a red plastic cup.

  Was she his mother's mother or his father’s? He wasn't sure because, the more he thought about it, he never knew his mother’s maiden name.

  Pausing his thoughts for a second, he turned to Hannah who looked as if she was drifting in and out of sleep, he asked her, “is there any way we can find out what my mother's maiden name was? It just occurred to me that I have no idea what it is. I'm sitting here trying to remember the one time I met my grandmother, and I realized I don't know whose mother she was. My mother or my father?”

  Hannah smiled just happy to be acknowledged by Tanner and replied, “I don't remember seeing anything in the paperwork about whose mother she was, but I'm pretty sure I can find out what your mother's maiden name was. You sure there was nothing about her name on anything when she passed?”

  He thought for a second and then declared, “you know what, now that I think about it, her maiden name may have been on her obituary.”

  Hannah lifted her phone as she quickly replied, “I can look it up on Google; that should be easy enough.”

  Looking out of the corner of his eye he saw that she was waving her phone, before she spoke again, “my phone doesn't seem to have any service, let me see yours.”

  He reached into his pants pocket to retrieve the device, but he quickly realized it wasn't there. He patted his other pockets in his pants and his jacket. Opening the center console in the car he concluded that it wasn't there, either.

  “I must have left my cell at the house. Shit, I can't ever remember that damn thing half of the time,” he growled in frustration.

  “That's okay, I'll wait until we are in a spot where I can get service and I'll try again,” Hannah assured as she looked a little disappointed that he had forgotten his phone; it wasn't the first time he had left it behind, either.

  The day his grandmoth
er visited he and his mother seemed like a long day. The more he remembered the past, the more he realized his grandmother, yet as striking as she was, was very strange. For one thing, she didn't ask about his father, not once. She must not have cried in the least about his whereabouts. It wouldn't have mattered, however, because he nor or his mother knew where the two-timer was. Also, the raggedy man that had dropped her off just sat across the road in the big old car, smoking cigarette after cigarette and sweating profusely.

  Hannah spoke with excitement that quickly diminished. “Oh, oh I got serv.... nevermind.” She shook her head irritated with the terrible service.

  Letting his thoughts flow back into his mind after being interrupted, he continued to reminisce. His mother had been making a small lunch for the three of them to enjoy before his grandmother left that day, and he remembered the gift she had given him. While his mother was preparing the sandwiches and filling the bowls with chips his grandmother pulled him to the side. Touching his face with her fingertips as she traced them along his cheek to his neck, down to the top of his shirt. She spoke to him, never losing eye contact or ceasing to stop running her smooth fingers across his flesh.

  “Tanner, my sweet boy, you look so much like your mother. You're going to grow up to be such a handsome young man, that I am sure of. I know you don't know me that well and that's all okay. I brought something for you, and I was wondering if you could do an old lady a small favor?”

  Reaching into her oversized tote bag she pulled out a crystal ball.

  Yep, he thought, he surely remembered the gift.

  He knew exactly where it was. It was in the trunk of the car he was currently driving. Hannah had made him pack it up with other items she considered useless and he was going to take them to Goodwill. He remembered because she only made him do that just a couple of days before the trip. He never made it to Goodwill that day, though, because his medication made him feel super nauseated. They only affected him from time to time but when they did it made it hard to function. So, the crystal ball, the only thing he ever received from his grandmother until her death, was packed up with useless junk in the trunk of the car.