by Richard Lori
The rain had started. Fuller sprinted across the lawn and into his car as it began to downpour. Despite the gloomy weather, he was glad for the short excursion he was about to embark on. As time went on, he was becoming more on edge around Rita. It seemed that whatever he did, she would find something to criticize. Even when something not of his doing went wrong, such as running out of cola, she would find some way to lay the blame on him. His hands trembled just thinking about her anymore.
As he drove down the rain-slicked street, he thought it ironic that this was opposite of the way he felt when they first met. She used to be his haven from the rest of the world.
They met in college; he a senior computer science major, and she a freshman sociology major. Fuller had no friends so stayed to himself and studied most of the time. Although he tried to convince himself it was by choice, he knew deep down that it was because he was socially clumsy. He had never learned how to interact with people with any degree of confidence. When others talked to him, he became nervous and would either trip over his own words or say nothing. This made people think he was either odd or unfriendly.
Being unattractive throughout her life, Rita had also been an outcast. She was scorned by the pretty girls and repulsed by all the boys. Unlike Fuller though, she had learned to socialize with other girls like herself so had formed a few close-knit friendships. Embittered by the treatment of their more popular classmates, her group fought back by being sharp mouthed and ever ready to defend their sisters. When she entered college, none of her friends had followed, leaving her to fend off the rest of the world by herself.
Fuller had met her in the cafeteria during the first month of school. He always ate alone with his nose in a book. She started sitting by him every day, eventually starting to talk to him. It did not matter to her that he was not much at conversation. In fact, she liked it, because he seemed to accept everything she said. For Fuller, she was the friend to him that no one else would be. She did not think him unfriendly and leave when he did not keep up his end of the discussion. They felt more at ease around each other than with any other person, and this was the glue that bound them together.
They got married after he graduated. This was Rita’s idea, as had everything else in their relationship thought Fuller in retrospect. She became more domineering after the first year of their marriage while he became more accepting of his plight. Still, he wondered how he had let himself be led into his current situation with Rita. He also wondered where he was right now, pressing hard on the brake to slow the car. He turned the windshield wipers on high and swung his head back and forth, trying to determine where he was. The surroundings were unfamiliar though.
“I must have missed my turn-off,” he muttered.
He continued driving on for a while, looking for a road sign or landmark, the wipers slapping back and forth to clear the rain speckled glass. Through the blur of the downpour, he saw he was on a rustic stretch of highway with imposing woods on either side. Sporadically, there were muddy drives leading to distant manors buried within the woodland.
“I don’t recognize anything around here,” he said, his voice quivering. “I’d better turn around.”
Fuller pressed the brake harder and spun the wheel in his hands to make a “U” turn. The road was not wide enough though, and he felt the car lurch sideways. The front tire skidded off the muddy shoulder, plunging into the grass-stippled marsh of the swollen gully.
“Damn it!” cursed Fuller while he yanked the wheel sideways, realizing too late what was happening.
He slammed the gearshift into first then applied an ever so slight pressure on the accelerator, trying to ease up the embankment. The car pulsed to life but went nowhere, the tire being too far off the edge. He tried with more and more pressure until he had his foot mashed to the floorboard. As mud arced across the ditch and the car entrenched itself deeper in the mire, he realized the vehicle would not budge. He released the pedal, knowing he would need to call for help.
“Shit, I’ll have to get a tow truck.” He turned off the ignition key and pulled his cell phone from his sports jacket. He punched several buttons before realizing nothing was happening and that it was still as dead as before. Cursing himself under his breath for not charging it, he opened the door and exited into the chilling fog of rain to find a phone to use.
*****
Fuller trudged up the road with his head down, keeping the wind-whipped rain from his eyes. His sports jacket snapped around like a flag clinging desperately to its pole in a gale. After walking a hundred feet or so, he came to a driveway that had turned into a sea of puddling mud. At the end of the several-hundred-foot drive, he could just make out the glowing windows of a large, old farmhouse. Fuller hoped the owner would let him use the phone. He headed towards the house, weaving back and forth like a drunken man to avoid the scattered pools of muddy water.
As the rain intensified and the visibility worsened, he could no longer see the lights of the house. But he continued on, knowing it would lead him to his objective. A blinding flash filled his eyes, and a crack of thunder boomed out when a bolt of lightning struck somewhere nearby. As darkness descended upon him once more, he caught a glimpse of someone ahead before the last glimmer of light faded.
His heart lifting with help near, he began jogging in the direction of the person, calling out, “Hey! Hey!” When another burst of light lit the path, he could clearly see a man. He picked up the pace of his run, his feet getting soaked as he splashed uncaring through the thick puddles. When he drew close, he called out again, “Excuse me! Can you help me?”
The man heard this time and turned as Fuller came to a stop alongside him. With another flash of lightning, the man’s face transformed from puzzlement to maniacal anger. He yelled out above the din of the storm, “Help? I’ll help kill you!”
The man lunged at Fuller, fists striking several hard punches before knocking him backwards. The first blows went unfelt as the complete shock of what was happening took a few seconds to sink in. With no time to reason, instinct took hold and Fuller’s arms flew out to catch himself while he tumbled to the ground. He slipped as he scrambled to get away, and the man pounced on him, forcing him to change from flight to fight.
The man clutched Fuller’s throat as he landed, the iron grip cutting off his air. Fuller grasped the other man’s wrists and tried to pry them free, but he was unable to do so with the attacker’s greater strength and weight. When panic set in with the realization the man was choking him to death, the unbreakable pressure on his esophagus ceased. He gasped for air as the adrenaline surge peaked and he spun to his knees in terror. The panic eased when he saw what had caused the change of events; another man had come to his rescue, forcing the attacker to retreat.
He remained kneeling while the rush of fear-induced strength declined and weakness set in, his own hands now grasping his nearly crushed throat.
His rescuer called to him, “Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” replied Fuller hoarsely, a crack of thunder nearly drowning out the sound of his voice in his own ear.
As he began to breathe with more ease, he looked up to see the assailant renewing his attack. This time though he lunged at the man who had come to his defense. Caught off guard by the sudden advance, the charging man tackled the other and drove him into Fuller. When his head snapped back from the plummeting man, he began to get woozy and felt himself falling but never hitting the ground.
He thought he would vomit when an enormous wave of nausea bowled over him, his consciousness slipping away. With his lack of feeling the ground below and the fallen man on top, he knew with certainty that they had snapped his neck. Fuller gave in as inevitable death descended.
*****
Fuller stirred and could feel the mud shifting below his body and squishing throug
h his fingers. He snapped into a sitting position as he became fully aware and looked across the darkened landscape surrounding him. While the rain continued to pummel him, he realized he was still sitting in the drive of the farmhouse and was neither dead nor paralyzed. After several more flashes in the sky, he determined he was alone, the other two men probably leaving him for dead.
The rain subsided and he again saw the lights of the house. He scrambled to his feet and stumbled in its direction. When he neared the front porch steps, a massive boom peeled out while a simultaneous flash lit the sky. As Fuller shot forward in a panicked sprint, he missed the first riser of the porch step and plummeted forward. His head thumped hard against the edge of an upper step, causing stars to flash before his eyes for several seconds. He thought he may pass out again, but he remained conscious as blood mixed with water started to flow into his left eye.
When his head cleared a bit, he crawled up the steps and pulled himself onto the porch, exhausted and out of breath. He stumbled his way to the door and used a last burst of strength to ring the bell. With the storm renewing its vigor, he could not hear if the chime had sounded. He opened the screen door and gave the entry door a single pound of his fist. With this last effort draining him, he passed out in a heap against the door from the sharp pain boring into his skull.
*****
Sue was huddled in her overstuffed chair nervously watching the weather reports on the television. Although the same phony woman was on again, she ignored her behavior this time as she focused on the red-blotted map of the radar display. The storm was the worst in recent history; heavy rains and high winds with several funnel clouds having already touched down in the city. The lights had gone out several times due to the intense lightning, only to thankfully come back on again after a few seconds. She had flashlight and candles ready if they went out permanently and was equally ready to bolt for the basement should the tornado sirens start blaring. If the irritating commentator were right, it would be a long night as several intense storms moved through before morning.
Sue had never liked thunderstorms. As a child, she would crawl into bed with her father, hiding under the covers and pressing tightly to his side. She would try her best to sneak in and not wake him, but she always did. He would try to sooth her into going back to her own room, but when she thought back, there was not a single time he had succeeded. He had always allowed her to stay huddled next to him for security. She wondered what he would say about the fear that gripped her now.
A bright flash and resounding explosion of a nearby lightning strike made her jump to her feet. She stood there trying to calm herself when the chime of the front doorbell made her jump again. She chuckled at herself while she walked to the door, but her laugh choked off when there was a loud thud on it. She was not expecting anyone, so she froze in place. The only person who had been visiting her in the past weeks had been Uncle Bob. Since he had been there earlier, she was sure it was not him. He would not pound on the door either.
She called out in a cracking voice, “Who’s there?”
When there was no answer, she called louder, “Is anyone there?”
Again, there was no answer. Already on edge from the storm, tears filled her eyes. Since crying had never slowed her in the past, she rushed to her father’s study and removed an antique double-barreled shotgun from the rack. The hundred-year-old firearm had been her great grandfather’s, which he passed down to her father. To her knowledge, it had been fired less than a dozen times in the last twenty years—twice by her.
She clutched the cool steel and removed it from the cabinet, the dim light from the hall reflecting off its polished walnut stock. Although her father had shown her its workings, she fumbled with it a moment before breaking open the breech and sliding the grooved, red shells into place. She locked it back with a firm click.
She walked back to the door with greater courage now that she was prepared, drying her eyes on the way. She called out, “I’ve got a gun in here, so you’d better go away.”
After she said this, she unlocked the door as quietly as she could and turned the knob. The door flew open, assisted by the wind and the weight of a lifeless man. As Sue jumped backwards, she almost pressed the first trigger of the gun. She recovered from the initial shock and swung its barrel around, pointing it at the man. When she noticed that he was not moving, she lowered the gun and stepped closer to see what was wrong. Even through all the mud, she could see a bloody gash on his forehead, which explained his unconscious state.
As the wind whipped spatters of mist into Sue’s eyes, she realized the door was still open. She stood the gun in the corner and dragged his limp body farther into the hall, her breath coming in groans from the strain. When she had heaved him far enough in, she muscled the door closed against the force of the heavy gale.
When she saw he was still unmoving, she ran to the kitchen and came back with some towels and a bowl of water. She knelt over him, washing the smeared dirt and blood from his head to get a better look. He started to stir and opened his eyes. He snapped them shut right away but reopened them and squinted at the harsh light burning in the living room beyond.
“What happened to you?” Sue asked while she continued to dab at the wound.
“I don’t know,” croaked the man in a weak voice as he looked at her through narrow eyes.
“Well whatever happened, this cut looks pretty nasty, but I don’t think it’s too serious. It’s bleeding quite a bit, but I think I can stop it.”
“Who are you?” the man asked, trying to sit up.
“Just lay back and take it easy for a while,” she said, handing him a towel. “Here, put this under your head.”
“Thanks,” he said as he laid the folded towel under his head. “Now who are you and where am I?”
“My name is Sue Manders, and you’re in my house,” she said, giving his wound a last dab as she finished cleaning it. “Here, hold this on your forehead for a while to stop the bleeding.” She handed him another towel and sat back on her folded legs.
“How did I get here?”
“I don’t know. You tell me. When I answered the door, you just fell in.”
“I was at your door?”
“Yeah.”
“What was I doing there?”
“I have no idea, but you rang my doorbell and then pounded on it.”
“All I remember is walking in the rain,” he said as he started to get up, his eyes straining shut when he fell back.
“I told you to lay there for a minute,” scolded Sue.
“All right I will. I remember walking on a muddy road, but that’s it.”
“Why were you walking on a night like this?” Sue asked. She was not sure she should trust the man. After all, for all she knew he fell on her porch while trying to break into the house. She examined him closer and decided this was probably not the case. Not many burglars wore sports jackets as far as she knew.
“I don’t know. Everything’s kind of hazy.”
“What’s your name anyway?”
“John Fuller,” he said, starting to shiver, water dripping from his clothes with each shake.
Noticing his chill, Sue asked, “Would you like something hot to drink to help warm up?”
“Yeah, that would be great. I’m freezing.”
“Do you like tea?”
“Sure, that would be fine.”
Sue went to the kitchen and filled her teapot with water. After putting it on the stove and lighting the flame beneath it, she went back to the hall. The old shotgun was still lying where she left it so she picked it up. Fuller had his eyes closed and appeared asleep. Snapping the breach open, she unloaded the gun while she walked back to her father’s office. There was no need for it she thought as she put it back in its rack. She had already ruled him out as being a burglar, and he did not look the type to be a murde
rer or rapist either.
When Sue walked back into the foyer, the lightning, which had quieted down for a while, started back in force.
A loud crack woke Fuller with a start. His eyes snapped open and his body shot into a sitting position.
“The storm!” he exclaimed as though announcing the crack of doom.
“I don’t like them either,” she said, crouching next to him.
“I remember now that I was driving and my car slid into a ditch.”
“Oh, okay. That’s probably how you got that bump on your head.”
“No, I don’t think so,” he said, leaning his back against the wall.
“Maybe you were running to get out of the rain and fell then. You are all muddy.”
“I… I’m not sure,” he said with a frown.
“That’s okay, I’m sure that’s what it was.” Sue was concerned that he had no memory of how he got there. The bump on his head might be more serious than she first thought.
The two had been sitting in silence when Sue’s thoughts were broken by the whistle of the teakettle. After reaching the kitchen, she shut off the flame and turned to a box tucked back on the counter, which contained an assortment of teas. She selected a variety that had grown to be her favorite, vanilla chai, and removed the bag from its wrapper. She poured the steaming water into a cup, doused the teabag in it and sprinkled in some coffee creamer. When she spun around to go back though, Fuller was standing in the kitchen doorway already.
“What are you doing?” she asked, concerned by his wobbly stance.
“My back was starting to hurt sitting on the floor. I took my shoes off though so I wouldn’t track mud everywhere. See?” He pulled a foot from the floor and held it towards her, almost falling in the process.
“Are you sure you should be standing up yet?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He pointed to his forehead and added, “The bleeding stopped too.”
“Well, you still don’t look too steady. Sit down over here,” she said, pointing to a stool by the counter. She put the tea down in front of him once he sat.
“Thanks,” he said, collapsing onto the stool. He let out a deep breath. “Wow. I guess I’m not as strong as I thought.”
*****
Fuller grasped the hot cup of tea in both hands and brought it close to himself, trying to warm his whole body with the heat it radiated. He felt chilled to the bones and could sense the tea’s warmth flowing into his stomach when he drank it.
“This is really good. Did you say it was tea?” he asked.
“It’s a tea with spices added called chai. That one has vanilla flavor in it too. You’re supposed to make it with milk, but the water was quicker to heat up.”
“That’s okay. I like it a lot,” he said, taking another sip of the zesty drink.
Not having taken in the sights of the house before, he looked around the kitchen. It was a hundred-year-old farmhouse, but with modern features from updating. Honey-colored maple cabinets reaching the high ceiling covered the walls. The marble counter had a white, antique sink mounted in the middle of its run. He was not sure if it was original to the kitchen but looked new due to the spotless manner in which she kept it. There was not a stain or dust speck to be seen anywhere on its surface, nor was there on the countertop or the blonde maple floor. From what he could see of the dining room, the rest of the house was as clean and well furnished as the kitchen.
He looked back at Sue. “You have a nice house.”
“Thank you,” she said while she poured hot water into another cup for herself.
As she reached into the box for another teabag, Fuller noticed for the first time how attractive she was. She was shorter than he with black hair that curled down her back, almost reaching her slender waist. The jeans she wore clung tightly to ample hips and thighs that were thicker than the rest of her figure’s proportions. When she turned to him with a cup of tea in hand, he saw her full breasts. His eyes traveled up to her pretty, round face and met the most exquisitely beautiful, deep blue eyes he had ever seen.
Her face flushed with the scrutiny he was giving her. She asked, “Would you like another cup of tea?”
“No, thank you,” he said, blushing as well, his eyes shooting back down into his cup while he took another nervous sip.
Sue sat on the opposite side of the counter, her eyes absorbed in her own teacup. Fuller felt embarrassed for having her catch him staring at her but realized that he could not help himself. She was the kind of woman he had always been attracted to but was never able to date because of his awkwardness. Pretty women in particular had always intimidated him, so he rarely interacted with them, let alone asked them on a date. However, in the short time he had known Sue, she had been very kind to him so he did not feel as nervous around her.
*****
Sue sat on the stool staring into her cup of tea. She was embarrassed that he had caught her in the act of admiring his face. For reasons she could not explain, she was attracted to him. What was even more surprising to her though was the ease with which she sat there. This strange man had fallen in her front door less than a half-hour before and yet she was not fearful of him. She had always been uncomfortable around men she did not know, but he seemed less threatening somehow.
Her eyes glanced to him for a moment then snapped back to her cup. He was still mud spattered, which made him seem less intimidating—vulnerable in fact. With the boy-like appearance his light brown hair and plump face portrayed, she had to fight the urge to drag him upstairs kicking and screaming and immerse him in a bath of sudsy water. She smiled at the imaginary picture, and when she looked at him again, she started to giggle. The puzzled expression he gave her only made her laugh harder.
Fuller smiled back. “What’s so funny?”
She calmed herself and stopped laughing. “I’m sorry; it’s just that you do look kind of funny with all that mud caked in your hair.”
“Oh,” he mumbled, his soft brown eyes drifting back down to his cup.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you. It’s just that you look like a little boy that’s been out making mud pies or something. It’s kind of cute.”
His face turned red when it changed from a look of hurt to one of embarrassment. Again all he could say was, “Oh.”
Sue stood up. “Come on upstairs and you can wash it out. I’m sure it doesn’t feel too great.” She started towards the kitchen door.
“Thanks,” said Fuller, standing and following. “I’d love to clean up.”
*****
Sue led the way upstairs with Fuller admiring the view from behind while they ascended the stairway. When they reached the top, they crossed the large upper hall to the bathroom directly opposite. The room was larger than his bedroom at home and was decorated and plumbed better than any bathroom he had ever seen.
There was a large claw-foot soaking tub with a back that sloped up high to give the bather better support. Its creamy white surface reminded him of the kitchen sink in that there were no signs of scratches or dirt anywhere. The fixtures were in an older style, the dull, brushed nickel adding to the appearance of age. In the far corner of the room was a glass shower stall with marble interior and fixtures that matched those of the tub. The large pedestal sink to his left stood below an oversize oak medicine cabinet, its beveled mirror reflecting the light of an antique light fixture above. The floor was of small octagonal tiles, accented throughout with cobalt blue pieces. A wide oak base molding which rose to a bead board wainscot rimmed the walls.
“Wait a minute and I’ll get you some dry clothes of my dad’s,” Sue said as she started to turn.
“Are you sure?” Fuller asked putting his arm out to stop her. “You’ve been so nice to m
e and I don’t want to put you through too much trouble.”
“Don’t worry, it’s no trouble,” she said, her kind eyes looking up to his.
Gazing into her eyes for a long second, the compassion of their calming blue seemed to envelop him. A gentle smile came to her face and she turned, this time Fuller not stopping her.
He could see that she was the opposite of Rita, who was too self-centered to be concerned about the needs of others. If someone like himself had come to their door, Rita would have turned them away. She would not even allow them to use the phone, let alone go to all this fuss.
When Sue came back, she had a stack of clothes in her hands, which she gave him.
“I’ll have to thank your father for letting me borrow these,” said Fuller when he accepted the pile.
The smile left her face as she looked down. “That won’t be possible. My father died a month ago.”
“Oh. I’m so s-sorry,” he stammered. He could see the pain of her father’s passing was still unhealed so he said no more. “Well I’ll be done in a minute,” he said turning and closing the door behind him.
He undressed and paused for a moment. He had intended only to wash up in the sink, but when he looked at the shower, it was far too inviting.
He called out, “Sue? Would you mind if I use your shower?”
“Well…” she paused for a second and then continued, “yeah sure, go ahead if you want to. There are towels in the far left cabinet.”
He stepped into the large stall, pulled its door shut and adjusted the shower nozzle to a hot spray. He grabbed the amber bar of soap from its recess and smelled its flowery fragrance. Soon the room filled with the aroma, carried by the steam that was condensing everywhere.
As he lathered in the warm mist, he went over the events of the evening. He remembered leaving his house to go to the store and getting lost. He remembered his front wheel sliding into the ditch, getting out of the car and walking. After that, his memory was vague. Where was he walking? To this house? Of course, that had to be. He had gotten here somehow.
With his body lathered, he picked up a bottle of shampoo perched on the shower’s corner shelf. He squeezed the pink syrup into his hand and massaged it into his hair, the wound on his forehead stinging from it. When the suds were oozing off his head, he stood under the shower to rinse, the needle fine jets of water prickling his head and body. When finished, he shut off the water and pulled the shower door open.
A thick fog engulfed the room and made everything a blur. When he went to the cabinet for a towel to dry himself, the memory of the storm flooded into his mind. He was in the downpour, and everything around him was a blur except for a man in the distance. He remembered running to him and the man attacking him for no reason. He also remembered a second man heading from the house coming to his defense. When he thought about it, he had not seen anybody in the house except Sue. He made a note to ask her while he dried himself with the plush towel.
The clothes she had provided were warm in the hot, humid bathroom. He rushed out after putting them on, only pausing to retrieve his wallet and keys from the pockets of his own clothes. He felt more himself as he ran his fingers through his hair and walked down the hall in search of Sue.
*****
Sue slouched in her living room chair, her eyes gazing at the gold-framed photo of her father. He had always hated having his picture taken. The corner of her mouth went up when she remembered how she had hounded him to go to the photographer. Gladstone was updating their website and had asked for new pictures of them both. She was not certain but thought it was the last one taken of him.
“I feel much better now,” said Fuller as he walked around her chair.
His voice startled her and she clutched the picture closer. When he sat across from her on the couch, he reached for the photograph.
“It’s a picture of my father,” she said, placing it in his hand.
As he looked at it, he said, “I’m sorry. It must be hard for you.”
“Yes it is,” she replied. “My father and I were very close. My mother died giving birth to me, so he was the only parent I ever knew.”
“Do you have any other family?”
“No, I was an only child, and my father was an only child as well. His parents died before he married my mom. Her parents blamed Dad and me for her death so never came around to see us. In fact, I only remember seeing them one time, and that was when they came to get some things of my mother’s. I was pretty young, but I remember they ignored me. They both died a few years ago.” She paused for a second and then continued, “My mother has one brother, but he lives in Florida now so I don’t get to see him anymore. Other than that, I’m alone. Well, that’s not quite true. I do have my Uncle Bob.”
“Uncle Bob?” Fuller asked.
“Yeah, he’s not really my uncle. He was my dad’s best friend, so I always called him ‘Uncle Bob.’ I’m closer to him than my real uncle though.”
Fuller had been staring at the picture while she was talking, but his head snapped up as he asked, “You live alone then?”
She became uncomfortable by the question and shrunk back in the chair, startled by his sudden agitation. She cursed herself for trusting a man she did not know and wondered why she had done so.
She had gone into a deep depression in the last month. She had locked herself away in the house reading books and looking halfheartedly at the reports Humboldt brought. Her father and her work had been the two most important things in her life. They had occupied so much of her time that she had not done much socializing. Sure, she interacted with people when she was working, but she had never gotten close to them after hours on a personal level.
With the nature of their work, she and her father worked many extra hours in the lab. Once started, they needed to carry their experiments to conclusion, so it was easy to lose all sense of time. When there was a natural breaking point in the workflow, it could be ten o’clock at night and neither had taken a break all day. Even when she did not work late hours, she usually went straight home.
Thinking back, she had not realized until now just how much she had isolated herself from others, especially in the last month. She had convinced herself that she did not need anyone else, but she did. She missed the companionship. She had never been so hungry for company, and that was why she had not thrown Fuller out earlier. Here she was talking about herself and she knew nothing about him. Although he had told her his last name, she could not even remember it.
Fuller calmed his voice. “I’m sorry. I obviously scared you, and I didn’t mean to. It’s just that I remembered what happened to me and how I got the bump on my head.”
He told her about the man that had mugged him and the one that had come to his rescue. After hearing this, she felt more at ease with him. “I don’t know who either of them could be, John.”
*****
They each sat lost in contemplation. After a time, Fuller became uncomfortable, thinking he must be overstaying his welcome. He was always concerned about this whenever he was at someone’s house for long. He would tell himself they were thinking of a polite way to get rid of him. He was never certain if this was paranoia or if they wanted him to leave, so he always left to be on the safe side. He felt this way more so now because of how he had inconvenienced her.
Although he felt at ease with Sue and did not want to leave, he said, “It sounds like the storm’s let up, so I’d better get going. My wife is probably worried about me too.” He knew she would be more upset about not getting her cola and cigarettes than anything else but did not say this.
“Of course. Maybe you should call her,” she said, a scowl flashing across her face.
“I think I will. Where’s your phone?”
Sue rose as she said, “I’ll get it.”
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When she had returned from the kitchen and handed it to him, Fuller said, “Thanks.”
He punched in his phone number, and to his surprise got a recorded message that told him the number was not in service. After punching in the number a second time, he got the same recording. He hung up the phone and looked at Sue. “The storm must have screwed up the phone lines. I’m getting a recording that says the number isn’t in service.”
“Are you sure you dialed correctly?”
“Yeah. Here, you try it for me.”
He handed her the phone and told her the number. After several seconds, she hung up. “Are you sure you gave me the right number?”
“Of course. I know my own phone number.”
“You’re probably right about the phones being messed up. Usually you get a message that there’s a problem on the line though, not one saying it’s not in service.”
“Yeah I know,” said Fuller, his brows furrowed. He shook his head. “Oh well. I’d better call a tow truck to pull my car out of the ditch. Do you have a phone book?”
“Sure, over here,” she said, going to a small bookcase.
She handed him the book and after paging through it, he called a towing company. Since they were close, the man told Fuller it would not take long to get there.
*****
As they waited for the truck, Sue asked, “How long have you been married?”
“About five years.”
“Do you have any children?”
“No. Rita doesn’t want kids,” he said, shifting his body around on the couch cushion.
“Why, doesn’t she like children?”
“No. She has very little patience for anyone, including me. Besides, she said it would make her fat.”
Although she could tell that he did not want to talk about this, she pressed him further. “What about you? Do you want kids?”
He fidgeted for a second before rising. “Is that the tow truck I hear?” He walked over to the window and looked out.
She turned towards him in the chair. “No, it’s just the wind.”
She could see by how restless he was that she had struck a sore spot so felt guilty for having pressed him. Clearly, he wanted children but his wife did not.
“What do you do for a living?” she asked, hoping the change of subject would cover for her ill behavior.
“I’m a computer programmer. Pretty exciting, huh?”
Since this was a subject he did not want to discuss either, she decided to remain quiet. The silence was not long though, because moments later they heard a grumble outside.
Fuller pulled the lace curtain back. “The truck’s here.” He turned towards her. “Thanks for everything, Sue. I don’t know what I would have done.” He took her hand in his and held it for a bit longer than etiquette would dictate.
She squeezed back in return. “It was no trouble. If there’s anything else I can do, just let me know.” She walked him to the foyer and waited while he put his muddy shoes back on. When finished, they went to the door. “Goodbye John.”
“Bye and thanks again,” he said, pausing for a moment before walking out the door and down the steps. When he reached the bottom, he ran to the truck through the drizzling rain.
Sue watched him get into the truck and drive away, the rain-fresh breeze caressing her face. As she closed the door, she hoped that she would see him again sometime.
*****
When Fuller got in the truck, he said to the burly driver “Hi. My car’s in a ditch just up the road over there.” He pointed in the general direction and continued, “It shouldn’t be too far from the end of the driveway.”
The driver said nothing but grunted in response. He drove the truck down the driveway and onto the road where Fuller had indicated.
Fuller became depressed at the thought of leaving, knowing there would be no reason to come back to see Sue again. She was the only woman he could think of, other than Rita before they started to date that had ever been nice to him.
They had driven for several hundred yards, Fuller still in the trance of his thoughts, when the driver grumbled, “Okay, buddy; where’s it at?”
“Huh?” muttered Fuller. When the words sank in, he turned his head side to side, looking for his car through the fog-glazed windows. “I don’t know. I’m sure it wasn’t this far. I only had to walk fifty feet or so to the driveway.” He looked back at the driver, and a snarl was plastered across the man’s face. Fuller said, “Maybe it was in the other direction from the driveway.”
The driver grunted again and turned the truck around, heading in the opposite direction. When they did not find his car there either, the driver went from impatience to irritation. “Listen, buddy, this is a bad night for jokes. Do ya, or don’t ya, have a car stuck out here?”
Fuller, at a loss, could only say, “It’s here somewhere. Maybe we just can’t see it in the rain.”
“Sure, pal,” groaned the driver.
“I’ll just have to look for it tomorrow. Can you bring me home?”
“Sure, but don’t think you’re not gonna pay me just because you couldn’t find your damn car,” snapped the driver.
He headed towards Sue’s house and Fuller blurted out, “Hey, I live in the other direction!”
“That’s your problem, pal. I’m gonna take you back where I found ya. This ain’t no friggen taxi you know.”
When they got to the house, Fuller’s eyes drifted from his wallet to the driver several times before removing the bills and paying him. When out of the truck, he ran to Sue’s door and rang the bell. Although he was worried about the disappearance of his car, he was almost happy he would get to see Sue one more time. He hoped she would not mind doing him just one more favor.
*****
The door cracked open and Sue’s smiling face emerged. “You just can’t bring yourself to leave me, can you?”
“No, I guess not,” he replied. Unable to contain his own happiness, he grinned at seeing her bright face.
“Come on in.”
As he entered, he said, “I hate to bother you again, but I can’t seem to find my car.”
Sue put her hand on her hip and scolded, “Well if you’d put your toys back where you found them, this wouldn’t happen.”
His eyes rolled while he groaned, “I’ll try to remember that next time. Can I use your phone again?”
“Sure.”
After removing his shoes, they went into the living room and Sue handed him the phone. He tried his home phone again to see if the lines had cleared but got the same response. He hung up.
“Same as the last time?” asked Sue when she saw the sour look on his face.
“Yeah,” he said, handing the phone back to her. “I got the same recording.”
“Isn’t technology wonderful?”
Smiling, he said, “Only on the rare occasions when it works.” He stood thinking for a moment then said, “Let me try my mother and see if she can pick me up.”
He jammed the buttons again, this time calling his mother. Although she did not like leaving home after dark, he hoped she would do it one time to get him out of this jam.
“Hello?” an old woman said on the other end of the line.
“Mother?” asked Fuller, puzzled by the sound of the voice.
“Who is this?”
“I’m sorry, I think I dialed the wrong number,” he said. “I’m trying to reach Mrs. Fuller.”
“There’s no Mrs. Fuller here.”
“I’m sorry I bothered you,” he said, hanging up the phone. He dialed the number two more times and the same woman answered.
He looked at Sue. “Now I’m really stumped. My mother’s number is going
to someone else. The lines must be crossed.” He paused then asked, “Can I use your phone book again to call a taxi?”
“Sure,” she said, getting it for him.
After paging through the book, he found a number and called. When done, they sat in the living room in silence for several minutes, each not knowing what to say to the other. Sue broke the silence. “So what do you do in your spare time?”
“Who me?”
“No, the person behind you,” she quipped, a smile forming. “Of course you.”
Fuller’s face reddened but then lightened when he looked at her eyes and noticed their sparkle when she joked around. Although he liked them under normal circumstances, they were particularly enchanting in their present state.
“Well I don’t really do anything exciting,” he responded.
“I’ll be the judge of that. What do you like to do?”
“I read a lot,” he mumbled.
“There’s nothing wrong with reading. I enjoy it myself.”
“Really?”
“Why do you look so surprised? I’m not illiterate,” she declared.
His eyes widened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that at all.”
“I was only teasing,” she said with a chuckle. “Don’t take me so seriously.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that I don’t know you well enough to tell if you’re joking or not.”
“That’s all right. People who have known me for a while can’t tell either sometimes.” The smile left her face for a second but returned when she asked, “So tell me what you like to read?”
“All different kinds of books,” he said, his eyes staring at the floor.
“Yes, but what specifically do you enjoy the most: biographies, fiction?”
His cheeks turned pink as he said, “Science fiction.”
Sue blurted out, “You’re kidding! I love science fiction.”
“Really? My wife Rita always tells me it’s stupid trash and that I’m dumb for reading it.”
“Is that so,” said Sue with a scowl. “What high-brow activities does she partake in that she can make a statement like that?”
Fuller laughed. “Rita watches a lot of TV.”
“Oh, lots of documentaries and educational programming I’m sure,” she responded, her words dripping with sarcasm.
Again he laughed. “No, lots of dramas and reality shows.”
“Oh well, I can certainly see why she would say that to you then. After all, Asimov can’t possibly come up to the intellectual standards of that.”
“Asimov! He’s my favorite author!” exclaimed Fuller.
“Really? He’s my favorite too!”
Fuller could see that she was as excited as he was but then a change came over her face as she lowered her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Asimov was my dad’s favorite author too,” she replied, the pain of his absence obvious. “Dad got me interested in science fiction when I was pretty young. It was Asimov in fact. The Lucky Starr series he wrote.” A distant smile emerged while she continued, “I can remember when I was in high school. I think I read every science-fiction book in the school library. When I finished one, I would give it to dad so he could read it too. I remember talking to him about all the different characters and places in the stories.” She grew silent, her eyes gazing off.
“I can tell you miss him a lot.”
“Yes, I do.”
Before Fuller had a chance to respond, the doorbell rang.
“I’ll be right back,” Sue said as she rose, a frown still on her face.
Knowing it must be the cab, Fuller followed behind. When Sue opened the door, there was a lanky man standing there who had the look of extreme boredom on his face.
“Did ya call for a cab, ma’am?” he droned.
“Yes, we did,” she answered. She turned and almost ran into Fuller, startled by his presence. Her face was nearly in his chest when she looked up at him to say, “Oh, I didn’t know you were there. Your ride’s here.”
“Yeah. I s-see that,” he stammered. She was so close, almost touching him. The engaging blue eyes looking up into his, the sweet scent of her hair in his nose, the smooth roundness of her cheek as she smiled and supple pink lips so close he could almost kiss them. His face bloomed red with the thought of it, and he turned away. The idea was sheer insanity.
He turned to put his muddied shoes back on, and when done said to her in a quivering voice, “Thanks again. Maybe we’ll see each other sometime, and we can really talk science fiction.”
“I’d like that,” she said, taking his hand as their eyes locked once again. When a long second had passed, he turned towards the door and walked out, following the driver to his cab.
The rain had ceased, but the sky continued to flash in the distance, signifying it was only temporary. The night of storms had not ended but was only resting before its fury rose again.
CHAPTER 3
