Stepping out from the warm house onto the covered porch, the hard rain chilled her as she lit her cigarette. The dim porch light spread its faint wings across the drenched blacktop. The silver entrails from the smoke intermingled with the drops. Helene wrapped her sweatshirt tight. Headlights appeared in the distance bobbed through the raindrops. Who could it be? Only three families lived on this road, hers, the Petersons who were at home with the lights off and the Davane’s also snuggled among worn and heavy comforters. The car sped faster and drove on the wrong side of the road. The shape came into view as the engine growled, the car was black. Something didn’t seem right, must be a drunk she thought. Her heart beat faster than the rain fell. Not wanting to draw attention to opening the door, she crouched beside some boxes. The car raced through the stop sign. Breathing deep, she tossed the butt off the porch and went back inside.
The computer screen shed the only light in the downstairs. When her husband worked overnight, she liked to stay up and wait for him and passed her time on the internet. Heavy footsteps on the wooden steps, a thud, slosh sound froze her in her place. She looked at the computer and it was only 3:16 a.m., Dan wouldn’t be home for hours. Glancing through the dim light of the screen, the lock stood unlocked. The squeak of the screen door overpowered the heavy rain, a knock of desperation. Helene said nothing.
“Please help me; I saw your light on. I hit a tree. I don’t have a phone can I use yours?” a baritone voice said, a voice that reminded Helene of someone long ago. Still, she said nothing.
“Helene,” the voice boomed again. The sound of her name stopped her heart. “I know you are in there. I saw you on the porch. I’ve come to pay a visit.”
The door knob turned and Helene dashed to the stairs toward her son’s room. Wet footsteps followed hers. His long fingers reached for her but she pulled away and ran up the stairs. Her son’s room was at the top of the stair with the door closed. Fumbling with the door knob, the footsteps thudded up the wooden stairs. The door opened, her son woke up holding onto his bear. As she slammed the door, the skeletal fingers crept inside, she pushed the door until he yelled in pain and the fingers receded.
“Mommy,” the five-year-old said.
“Shh, baby get in the closet and don’t open the door.” The boy who normally enjoyed giving his mother a hard time slid off the bed and into the closet. The man pounded on the door.
“Helene, maybe we should have a talk,” he spoke kindly sinister.
“Go away. I don’t know who you are. Just leave, I’m calling thee cops right now,” Helene replied. A lie since there was no phone in her son’s room.
“Let me in bitch!” He kicked and pounded on the door. Helene looked around the room and decided on pushing the oak bureau to the door. She couldn’t move the massive piece of furniture fast enough across the carpet. He battered the door, wood cracked under the pressure. She heaved the dresser against the door. The door beating stopped, she heard his heavy breathing against the rain.
Gathering some nerve, Helene asked, “who are you and how do you know my name?”
He laughed like an evil Santa Claus, “you are a riot. I don’t see how you don’t remember me? Think about it long and hard then when you are done, perhaps you could start with an apology.”
“Are you serious, you want me to apologize for what? You broke into my house,” Helene quizzed.
“I see you are still a liar, Helene. You said you called the cops but they would’ve been here by now.” She slumped down in front of the dresser, powerless. She had to get her and son out of here sooner than later. Sobs from the closet interrupted her thoughts. Helene knew he was safe in there. The very concept of time dissipated into the blackness. Who was the man on the other side?
After enough silence had passed, he spoke, “Oh Helene, really you can’t remember. Okay I will give a little hint. Think back to Jackson High. I think once you do, you will know who I am.” The voice drifted through the door, a voice of a guy she once knew.
Darren Peabody came to Jackson High when Helene was a senior. He was tall, out of touch with style, and very intelligent. While Helene might not have been the most beautiful girl with her brown hair and fleshier than the other girls body, she still was popular, perhaps more popular than the head cheerleader. Darren and she hit it off, he made her laugh and she treated him like someone. Their friendship remained secret and they rarely saw each other outside school. Her friend’s enjoyed making him miserable, it made them laugh. Helene did feel bad for him when they ridiculed him but dared never to stop it.
Right before Christmas, Darren gave Helene a card professing his love for her. She agreed to meet him for a date. Instead of giving directions to her house, she gave the directions to Steve’s house, someone who hated him. Helene never saw Darren after that night. Rumors drifted around school that he and his family weren’t happy and moved. Helene asked Steve once what happened and he told her nothing.
“Darren,” she called out to him.
“Helene, do you have an apology for me?”
“For what?”
He chortled once again, “like you don’t know what your pals did to me. You were in on it. You told me to go there.”
“No one told me what happened.”
“But you knew where you were sending. Bitch, you sent straight to hell. I get there and all your little hump buddies jumped me. There were three of them. They couldn’t stop, Helene, they just punched and kicked. I called for you, I thought you were my friend. Someone heard me yell for you and they reached down to my crotch and twisted my dick until I stopped calling your name. I woke up in the hospital, Helene. I have a dick that I can’t use ever. Now you think you should apologize?” his voice shrieked.
Helene’s own rain drops fell, “Darren, I really am so sorry. I had no idea they’d go that far. They told me to send you to there. They said they wanted to teach you a lesson.”
“That’s so funny because I have been waiting for this moment for a long time, dear Helene. I already took care of your old pals. They had their lesson dead and gone, surprised like you that I remembered and now could fight.”
Silence. Then a boom and a bullet broke through the wood. Another shot whirled and broke the window. She crawled on her knees and another bullet. Taking off her sweat shirt, she broke the window out. Still on her hands and knees she crawled to the closet and opened to the door to his cries. A new magazine slid into place as Helene grabbed her son. Tucking him under her body, she made it to the window and helped her son on the porch roof. The bullets came faster no time for thinking just action. Helene hoisted herself onto the porch almost slipping.
Darren pounded on the door, the wood splintered. Not much time, she could see a hallowed face in the dim night light. Helene picked up the boy and walked to the edge of the roof. She got down on her stomach and lowered the boy by his arms.
“Jump baby.”
“Mommy,” he wailed over the rain. He fell to the ground and rose to his feet. The gunshots moved closer. She knew he was coming into the room. Helene sat at the edge and looked at the drop, not very far but far enough to break something. She had to try. The very least Troy could run away to the Devane’s and get help. Helene jumped. Something snapped on impact. Her leg. His shadow danced on the porch roof.
“Go to the Mr. Davane’s pound on the door and scream get help and hurry. I’ll be over there in the ditch.”
Troy gave her his bear and dashed across the street. Holding the bear, she inched to the ditch. More gun shots; lights came on at the Devane’s. A thud in the dark, another snap, more gunshots, she kept moving.
When will the sun rise?
Special Thanks to the Happy Dater at My Off- and On-Line Dating Life for help with this story!
J Scott under meaningful meanderings 
