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Authors: Elissa Wald
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downstairs was making no effort to be stealthy. Maybe Stas had forgotten something and come back for it.
It felt especially compromising to be in bed. Clad only in underwear and a long t-shirt, with bare legs and no bra.
In the bottom drawer of the night table beside the bed was Stas’ handgun. Soon after Clara was born, he’d taken me to a shooting range and showed me how to use it. Even at the time, I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it under duress. The chamber was hard to manipulate and just loading it had frightened me. If Clara were here, if she were in the house and her safety was at stake, I might manage it. As it was, I never even considered taking it out of the drawer.
But where was my cell phone? For maybe the twentieth time, I regretted that we had no land line and that I didn’t make a point of keeping my cell by the bed. Right now it was in my purse, which was in the kitchen. Twitching with fear, I eased out of bed and reached for the nearest clothes, those at the top of the laundry basket. Stas’ plaid boxers, which served as a flimsy pair of shorts. A Guatemalan sweater of rough red and orange wool, which I pulled on over my t-shirt; this wasn’t the time to fumble with a bra. My heart was hammering, my breath coming in shallow little gasps.
And now, from the ground level of the house, came the sound of our portable radio, tuned to a country station. Would a rapist or burglar turn on the radio? I made myself peer around the door of my bedroom, where I could see down the steps and into the kitchen. My purse was on the kitchen counter, just where I’d left it the night before. Would a robber leave a purse untouched? There was a clear path to the door; no one was in sight. I could dash down the stairs and out to the street. Barefoot and shivering, a strange sight in the bright sweater and oversized plaid boxers, but safe from harm in any case—safe from whoever had invaded the house.
Yes. That was what I would do.
And then, without warning, Jack strolled into view and I screamed.
“Oh, hey! Oh hey, oh man, I’m sorry,” he said, backing away and holding up both hands as if to show he wasn’t armed. “I didn’t know you were here. I left a note on the door saying I was inside.”
I stood there staring at him and trying to get my breath back.
“I need to go to Yakima tonight on an emergency,” he continued. “And I couldn’t see leaving you guys hanging in the middle of the job, with a half-painted room. I just thought I’d get in here, get it done. I didn’t think you’d mind. I never meant to surprise you or scare you. Like I said, there’s a note right on your front door.”
Finally I found my voice. “How did you get in?” I asked faintly.
“I got a key. I’ve had it so long I never even thought to mention it. Forgot I even had it, to tell the truth. I just remembered this morning because I was wishing I could get in here and then it came to me that I could get in. Walt gave it to me back in the day. Here, take it.” He reached in his pocket, pulled out a mass of keys, and began working one of them loose. “Look, I’m real sorry. I wish I’d waited. I just wanted to do the right thing.” He slid a key off its ring and held it out. “Here you go.”
I took it wordlessly before turning away. Back in the bedroom, I quietly locked the door behind me. Then I stood in the middle of the floor, clutching the key, and started to cry. I was still crying half an hour later as I called my husband on his cell. “There are things I haven’t told you,” I said, and then I told him everything.
* * *
“Listen to what I say. I will be there in twenty minutes. I want you to go out to that car they gave you, and sit in it until I come home. Just stay there on the street in front of the house and make sure he does not steal anything. When you see that I have arrived, I want you to drive away. All right?”
“Where am I supposed to go?”
“Go any place you want.”
“What will
It felt especially compromising to be in bed. Clad only in underwear and a long t-shirt, with bare legs and no bra.
In the bottom drawer of the night table beside the bed was Stas’ handgun. Soon after Clara was born, he’d taken me to a shooting range and showed me how to use it. Even at the time, I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it under duress. The chamber was hard to manipulate and just loading it had frightened me. If Clara were here, if she were in the house and her safety was at stake, I might manage it. As it was, I never even considered taking it out of the drawer.
But where was my cell phone? For maybe the twentieth time, I regretted that we had no land line and that I didn’t make a point of keeping my cell by the bed. Right now it was in my purse, which was in the kitchen. Twitching with fear, I eased out of bed and reached for the nearest clothes, those at the top of the laundry basket. Stas’ plaid boxers, which served as a flimsy pair of shorts. A Guatemalan sweater of rough red and orange wool, which I pulled on over my t-shirt; this wasn’t the time to fumble with a bra. My heart was hammering, my breath coming in shallow little gasps.
And now, from the ground level of the house, came the sound of our portable radio, tuned to a country station. Would a rapist or burglar turn on the radio? I made myself peer around the door of my bedroom, where I could see down the steps and into the kitchen. My purse was on the kitchen counter, just where I’d left it the night before. Would a robber leave a purse untouched? There was a clear path to the door; no one was in sight. I could dash down the stairs and out to the street. Barefoot and shivering, a strange sight in the bright sweater and oversized plaid boxers, but safe from harm in any case—safe from whoever had invaded the house.
Yes. That was what I would do.
And then, without warning, Jack strolled into view and I screamed.
“Oh, hey! Oh hey, oh man, I’m sorry,” he said, backing away and holding up both hands as if to show he wasn’t armed. “I didn’t know you were here. I left a note on the door saying I was inside.”
I stood there staring at him and trying to get my breath back.
“I need to go to Yakima tonight on an emergency,” he continued. “And I couldn’t see leaving you guys hanging in the middle of the job, with a half-painted room. I just thought I’d get in here, get it done. I didn’t think you’d mind. I never meant to surprise you or scare you. Like I said, there’s a note right on your front door.”
Finally I found my voice. “How did you get in?” I asked faintly.
“I got a key. I’ve had it so long I never even thought to mention it. Forgot I even had it, to tell the truth. I just remembered this morning because I was wishing I could get in here and then it came to me that I could get in. Walt gave it to me back in the day. Here, take it.” He reached in his pocket, pulled out a mass of keys, and began working one of them loose. “Look, I’m real sorry. I wish I’d waited. I just wanted to do the right thing.” He slid a key off its ring and held it out. “Here you go.”
I took it wordlessly before turning away. Back in the bedroom, I quietly locked the door behind me. Then I stood in the middle of the floor, clutching the key, and started to cry. I was still crying half an hour later as I called my husband on his cell. “There are things I haven’t told you,” I said, and then I told him everything.
* * *
“Listen to what I say. I will be there in twenty minutes. I want you to go out to that car they gave you, and sit in it until I come home. Just stay there on the street in front of the house and make sure he does not steal anything. When you see that I have arrived, I want you to drive away. All right?”
“Where am I supposed to go?”
“Go any place you want.”
“What will
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