by John Tigges
Upset. She thought back to the previous night and how jangled her own nerves had been by the strange occurrences. How could the TV and stereo plug themselves into the outlets and turn themselves on? That simply wasn’t possible. Still, it had happened somehow. If nothing else she’d get a good night’s sleep tonight. She felt dead on her feet and wished for five o’clock to arrive as soon as possible.
Thursday, November 6, 1986 7:30 P.M.
Myles sat behind his desk, fingering the stack of news stories he would report on the eleven o’clock news. He was positive that he’d have no problem with any of the stories. Something else was bothering him.
For the last three days, ever since he had the pain in the shower Tuesday morning, he had put two and two together, arriving at the same answer each time. Whenever he thought of leaving or quitting his job or moving away, the pain struck. When he thought of Nicole, the pain left. How could the two be related? Could medicine explain it? Pain didn’t work that way. Love and its relative consequences didn’t work that way. Or did it? Several times during the day, he had resolutely made an effort to write a letter of resignation only to be struck with the pain. He immediately thought of Nicole and the pain receded. Each time he tried, the results were the same. It seemed as if his pain were psychosomatic and directly related to his leaving or not leaving Nicole.
Checking his watch, he decided to stop by Nicole’s after the eleven o’clock newscast and visit with her. If he felt all right when he was with her, he’d give every consideration to going back into her life. After all, he did feel strongly about her. And that probably meant he was one step removed from loving her—if he didn’t already.
The telephone rang and he picked it up.
“Myles Lawrence here.”
There was no response other than an agreeable “Um-hmmmmmmm,” before the line went dead.
8:45 P.M.
Immediately after eating, Nicole washed her few dishes and put them away. Somehow she had managed to get through the afternoon and now that she was home felt that the only place for her was bed. It wasn’t even nine o’clock yet but that didn’t matter. She had to get to bed, to sleep.
“Perchance to dream?” she said aloud. She hadn’t thought much about her peculiar recurring dream. Whatever was causing it probably would pass in time.
If she went to bed now, she’d miss Myles, but she could do without him for one night. She had done without him for quite a few nights while she stayed in the motel the second time. Of all things to have a motel room that had a TV set that would not bring in KSLL-TV. She remembered how angry she had been but then thought of it as a test to see if she could get by without Myles’ electronic visit every night. She had survived nicely and tonight would not be traumatic without him. She was positive of that.
She bathed instead of showering, soaking for almost thirty minutes in lightly scented bath oil, washing away the fatigue of lost sleep and a hard day’s work. When she turned out the light next to her pillow, the last thing she looked at was the digital clock and thought that it was the first time in ages that she had gotten to bed before ten o’clock.
Closing her eyes, she teetered on the brink of sleep for perhaps three seconds before plunging headlong into the abyss of slumber. The blackness embraced her, caressing her tiredness and she settled in, comfortable and warm.
At eleven o’clock, the TV set came on, Myles’ voice blaring loudly above the blustery march of Tchaikovsky’s Sixth Symphony, which poured from the stereo speakers. Bleary-eyed, she sat up, not quite certain where she was or what was happening. That noise? That voice? Myles? Was Myles here? Had he come back to her? Then the words began penetrating her foggy mind.
Something about Libya. The PLO. Something. Why was he saying that if he had come back to her?
THE TELEVISION SET WAS ON!
Leaping from the bed, she froze when a heavy knock came at the door. Who was knocking? Had someone called the police? No, there hadn’t been enough time to do that. It had to be an irate neighbor.
Dashing to the front room, she turned off the television set and the stereo. The ensuing silence crushed in on the room.
“Yes? Who’s there?”
“Little Bo Peep, you stupid broad,” a heavy male voice growled. “What the hell’s wrong with you, playing that crap so loud?”
“I’m sorry,” she said through the door, not opening it for fear the man would physically attack her in his angry mood.
“Once more and I call the cops or the landlord. It’s up to you whether I do or don’t. Knock that shit off! Y’ hear?”
“It won’t happen again. I promise.”
“It better not,” he said, his voice softening as he walked down the hall to his own apartment.
Nicole leaned against the door. Things like this weren’t possible. They simply were NOT …
The telephone rang. Now who or what? She lifted the receiver. “Hello?”
“Miss Kilton? This is Fred Astin. I’ve just received a phone call from one of your neighbors. Why are you playing your TV set so loud?”
“I … I …”
“Just a word of warning. If I get one more complaint or there’s one more incident involving you or your apartment, I’ll have to evict you. I have the right. It’s in the lease you signed. It’s under the nuisance clause in case you’d like to check it. Do I make myself understood?”
“Ye … yes, Mr. Astin. It’s perfectly clear. Good night.”
Astin slammed the receiver down on his end before Nicole could hang up.
Tears of frustration rolled down Nicole’s cheeks. Why couldn’t she handle any of this? What in God’s name was going on?
She sniffed, choking back a cry. The musty stink enveloped her. What was causing that? If someone caught a whiff of it and reported it to the manager, she’d be out. Anger slowly built within her, crowding out her frustration, pushing aside her feelings of desperation. Storming across the living room, she yanked out the television set plug and then did the same to the stereo components. Tying all of them together, she threw them down on the floor. She felt like stamping on them to vent her rage.
A soft knock at the door brought her around. Now who? What now? Just as angry as she had been when she attacked the stereo and TV set, she hurried to the door, throwing it open.
“You having a party?” a quiet voice asked.
She looked up into the eyes of two uniformed policemen. Her anger disappeared. Her neighbors were more than efficient. One had attacked her personally while someone else called the landlord and another the police. She’d have to bluff her way through it. “Not really, Officer,” she said, forcing an air of indifferent surprise.
“The precinct got three calls within forty-five seconds, complaining of loud music and noise coming from your apartment. What’s your story?”
“I don’t really know,” she said, hoping her lie would not be too obvious. “The manager called, too, saying the same thing. In fact, a man from down the hall was here before you, threatening to knock the door down or something if I didn’t keep quiet.”
“Well, what’s your story?” the policeman persisted, leaning into the apartment, his eyes darting from left to right. “May we come in?”
“I’m here alone,” Nicole said, stepping aside. “For some reason, my TV set and stereo decided to turn themselves on. It …”
“They decided?” the spokesman for the police team asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“I just said that, Officer. I think there might be something wrong with the switches or something. A little vibration from passing traffic and they go on. It’s all I can think of. But I’ve remedied it for tonight. I’ve pulled the plugs and tied them together.”
“Tied them together?” he echoed.
“I …”
Before Nicole could explain, both appliances went on again, this time louder than ever before. It simply wasn’t possible. They couldn’t be playing. She had pulled the plugs, tied them together and thrown them away from the wall toward
the center of the room. Whirling about and stepping aside to allow the policemen entry to the living room, she gasped. Both plugs were in the wall while the knot she had tied had vanished.
“How the hell did you do that? I didn’t see you do anything. You’re sure you’re here alone?” He nodded at his partner who moved to the kitchen doorway, peering in.
“I told you I’m alone. If you don’t believe me, look around. Make yourselves at home. I’m as much at a loss as you are. I don’t understand any of it.” Her voice took on a hysterical edge, one that she struggled to control. But how was any of this possible?
The officer moved to the TV set and stereo components, pulling both cords out of the wall. The sound stopped. “There now, we won’t have to shout, will we?”
He seemed pleasant enough to Nicole. It probably was an act, and she backed away from him. Did they think her crazy?
“Look, Miss, no more of this. I don’t know how you did that,” he said, looking to his partner who nodded, then shrugged, confirming Nicole’s story that she was alone. “But no more. It isn’t fair to the other tenants. Do you understand? I don’t want to book you for disturbing the peace.”
Nicole looked away. It was best if she didn’t argue anymore. They couldn’t help her. Help her? Why did she suddenly need help? That wasn’t the problem. She had to think of something—fast. “Don’t worry, Officer,” she began. “I intend on calling a repairman first thing in the morning. I’m sure that it’s nothing more than a bad switch.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” he said.
“Will you do me a favor before you leave?”
“If I can. What?”
“Tie the plugs together. Do it in such a way that I won’t be tempted to watch TV or play a record anymore tonight. They might go loud again and I wouldn’t want to disturb anyone.”
He tried concealing his smile but failed and quickly tied the cords together, winding them around one leg of the TV stand. “There,” he said, standing. “Let the repairman remove them in the morning. G’night, Miss.”
She followed them to the door and said, “Thank you for being understanding, Officers.”
She closed the door, securing the latch before they could say anything. Hurrying to the window of the living room, that overlooked the front of the building, she could see the police squad car parked at an angle in the drive. In a few minutes, the uniformed men strode out of the front entrance and got into their car. Slowly pulling away from the curb, it glided onto the street and was gone from sight in seconds.
Exhaling a sigh of relief, she wiped a hand over her face. She’d slept about an hour or so and would probably have no trouble getting back to sleep. Turning off the lights in the living room, she entered the hall that led to her bedroom but stopped, unable to move. She heard what sounded like a deep chuckle and then the television set and stereo began playing again. Or had the laugh come from the TV set? Racing back to the living room, she turned on the lights and stifled a scream. The new clock caught her attention. It had been almost midnight when the police left but now the hands were spinning wildly in opposite directions. The noise grew louder until it was unbearable. It wasn’t possible for her small stereo to produce that much volume or for the television set to sound as if its audio were being amplified twenty or thirty times beyond its normal peak.
She thought she heard a tapping but could not locate its source. What could that be? At least she knew where the ruckus was coming from but had no idea how. Suddenly, the noise stopped. For only a split second. Just long enough for her to hear the gentle rapping at her front door. It didn’t sound like her angry neighbor’s knock. That would be a pounding that would threaten to knock the door off its moorings. The noise began again, and she went to the door, confident that she was unable to stop the electronic monsters’ din.
Unlocking the door, she opened it, her jaw dropping agape when she saw Myles. He had come back.
Then, the awful, piercing sound stopped.
PART THREE
He Is Come!
Friday, November 7, 1986 to
Saturday, December 6, 1986
8
Friday, November 7, 1986 6:25 A.M.
Nicole felt a gentle pressure on her right breast and snuggled in closer to Myles. Half awake, she smiled, recalling the sense of elation she had felt when she realized that it had been Myles knocking on the door to her apartment. As consciousness overtook her, crowding out that delicious half sleep, half awake sensation, she thought momentarily about the cacophony that had raged in her apartment prior to his appearance at the door. The stereo, the turntable without a record on it, the television set—all had been operating at full volume, producing a level of sound she didn’t think they were capable of emitting. The hands of the clock had spun wildly in different directions. And now that she thought about it, she thought that the furniture might have been moving of its own accord—bouncing, as if someone were manipulating the chair and couch. But that was crazy—totally impossible. Wasn’t it?
An involuntary moan escaped her lips when Myles began rubbing her nipple with his thumb and forefinger. God, it felt so good. How long had it been? Weeks! Over two months, in fact, but all that was over. Myles had declared his love for her last night in such a way that she felt the two of them would be together forever. Nothing would ever come between them again.
What had he said? She replayed the scene in her mind once more. He had stood there, his face appearing as if a smile would break out any minute, but he had remained somber—at least, for that long moment.
“Hi,” he managed after they looked at each other for what seemed hours.
“Hi,” she said, fighting to maintain some sort of control. She wanted to scream. ” You’re back! You’re back! You’re back!” But somehow, she stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter. When he did, they faced each other again. She closed the door, then stepped closer to him.
He backed away and said, “Give me a minute. I’ve got to say something first.”
She waited.
“What I did,” he began, his voice soft, almost muffled, “was inexcusably stupid. I didn’t think of you once when I decided to take off without warning, and that was wrong. When two people think a lot of each other and are in love—I guess we are in love, aren’t we?— the desires of one should be the desires of the other. I didn’t do that, and for that I’m sorry. I hope you forgive me.”
Nicole stepped closer until their hands touched. She looked into his eyes.
“Myles,” she said, “oh, Myles. You’ll never know how I wanted you to come back, but I guess my pride prevented me from coming to you at any one time. I should have done something but …”
“As long as we both feel this way, why don’t we put it out of our minds and get on with it? Talking about it will only keep the wounds open, and I don’t want to hurt you anymore, ever again.”
She threw her arms around his neck. “I love you, Myles Lawrence.”
“And I love you, Nicole.”
Their lips had touched, barely brushing before they firmly joined, their kisses saying more eloquently anything their minds could have verbalized.
Nicole moved even closer to Myles, feeling the warmth of his body. She had missed that. She had missed him. All that would be different now. She knew that. Their love-making had been fantastic, and both had dropped off to sleep, holding each other.
Her eyes searched the half dark of her bedroom. It would be time to get up soon but she’d wait for the alarm to do its job.
One thought invaded her euphoria—what had brought him back? Totally unannounced. Completely surprised by his sudden appearance, she had wanted to ask him but had resisted, and when they had kissed, the thought evaporated for the time being. Now it was back. Why had he indeed come back so … so … almost mysteriously? And what had caused the chaos in her apartment? For that matter, what had caused any of the peculiar things that had taken place in the last few weeks? The burst pipes. The vandalism of her clothing an
d apartment. The rank smell that came and went like a breath of something dead or dying or …
She stopped. Stop thinking of things like that, she ordered herself. Myles was back. That’s all that mattered. They were together, and together, they could face anything. Perhaps she’d ask him what he thought about all the weird things that had happened. And everything had stopped when Myles arrived. Could the two be connected? The noise stopping when Myles showed up at her door? That was crazy! Impossible!
She screwed her face up in thought. The cords to the TV and stereo had been tied around the legs of the TV stand by one of the policemen. Had they still been there when the music and late night movie were blasting so loudly? She couldn’t recall. Removing Myles’ hand from her breast, she slipped from the bed, putting on her robe.
She tiptoed to the living room and turned on the lights. She gasped. The cords were knotted together, wound around the leg of the TV stand.
8:15 A.M.
“What noise?” Myles asked, sipping his coffee.
“Last night. When you were knocking. Didn’t you hear a lot of racket coming from in here?” Nicole stared at him. Surely he had heard the stereo and TV. He would have to have been deaf not to have heard the noise. Earlier, the neighbors had heard it. It had been loud enough for them to complain to both the manager and the police. Why hadn’t Myles heard it? Before she had opened the door, the noise had been deafening.
“I didn’t hear anything, Nicole. Really, I didn’t.”
Could she be going crazy? Losing her mind? She had heard the sounds—hadn’t she? Now she wasn’t sure of anything. The cords were still wound around the table leg this morning, tied together at the end. There was no logical, rational way any of this could be explained. She felt sorry that she had said anything to Myles. What if he thought she were losing her mind?
“I guess I … I imagined it,” she said softly.
