3. Ted
TED
It didn’t take long to figure out that Bob was dead.
Even though I tried not to get involved in the town gossip, he’d lived there his whole life, so word got around pretty quick.
Nobody told me outright, but flowers started to show up on his porch rail, and his truck never moved after that night he left in an ambulance.
A couple weeks later, a different truck showed up that was newer and bigger, as was the guy who drove it.
I’d clocked him the second he started unloading boxes from his truck, and as predicted, he didn’t waste any time before he started making the rounds. The guy went door to door with a stack of papers, and I could only imagine what those papers said.
Probably eviction notices.
But I knew my rights. I didn’t have to open my door or accept any papers from some stranger.
From my window, I kept track of where he was, waiting for him to work his way to my door. As he got closer, I realized the guy was younger than I initially thought. Maybe a few years older than me, but he was built like he spent a lot of time in the gym. Or maybe he worked with his hands.
A rogue image of his hands working me over entered my mind, but I stepped away from the window and shook it out of my mind.
I didn’t think of people that way. Hooking up wasn’t my thing.
My only almost-experiences with sex were when I was much younger and much weaker.
Now I knew better than to let people get close enough to hurt me.
When the attractive man eventually knocked on my door, I stayed perfectly quiet and didn’t make a move.
Of course, he knew I was home. There was no way for me to go in or out of the driveway without passing by every other house on the lot, but I was sending a message. A message that clearly said, “We don’t want none.”
“Hey there, anybody home?” His voice was kind and cheery, not at all grumpy like Bob always was.
I could almost hear from his voice that he had all the patience in the world and nowhere else to be.
That was just perfect. He moved to the window and knocked lightly on the glass.
“Theodore, right? I’m Kacen, the new owner here.
I just wanted to introduce myself and give you a new lease. ”
Nothing moved on my body except my heart as it pounded under my chest. I didn’t even breathe more than absolutely necessary. And after a few more futile attempts to get my attention, he finally gave up.
Something slid under the door, and then his footsteps tapered away.
Once I was sure he wouldn’t catch me, I peeked out the corner of the bedroom window and saw him disappear into the main house.
It took another count to sixty before I let myself slump against the wall and deeply inhale. “That was close.”
I waited until it was dark out before grabbing the envelope that was poking out from under the door. There was a sticky note on top that didn’t make sense. Did the guy actually carry a little notepad with him? Weirdo.
Sorry I missed you. No rush on signing it but just leave it in my mailbox whenever.
Kacen
His handwriting was neat and reminded me of a professor or teacher or someone who wrote a lot. I hardly ever wrote anything and had terrible handwriting.
I left it on the counter and didn’t bother signing it. He said there was no rush. And if nothing was changing, why did we even need it? He’d figure out soon enough that he didn’t need to try to get friendly with me. I kept to myself and would appreciate it if he did the same.
Over the next few days, he tried to wave me down whenever I drove past his house, even running out in a towel once when I left thirty minutes earlier than usual. My gaze lingered on his bare chest and the trail of hair leading down under the towel, but I averted my eyes and kept going.
I didn’t like anyone to know my routine, so it was time to mix things up.
About a week after he knocked on my door, a severe storm rolled in. It had been building up all afternoon, and when it finally broke, it was angry. I’d been watching the blue sky disappear, replaced by a hazy gray color that meant we were in for a wild night.
By the time it was fully dark, the wind was rattling the whole trailer almost off its blocks, and I wasn’t sure we’d make it through the night.
Thankfully, the power didn’t go out, so I turned up the TV and did my best to drown out the worst of it. I hated storms. I hated loud noises. And I hated that I was such a baby about everything.
It wasn’t the first storm I’d survived in this trailer. They were built for withstanding storms, and mine had survived every one of them so far. There was no reason to think this would be any different.
When a loud crack of thunder boomed close enough to shake the windows in their frames, I flinched and ran into the bedroom. I had a pair of headphones in there, so I put them on and slid under the bed. I felt safest in small, cramped places that no one else could get to.
And by no one, I meant the thunder.
The whole trailer shook and vibrated, but I cranked up my music and curled up in the fetal position. It felt like bombs were being dropped above my head, and maybe they were. I wasn’t about to crawl out from my hidey hole to check.
Eventually, I dozed off. Even though I’d gotten used to sleeping through chaos when I was a kid, I was glad I didn’t have to work the next day. I’d need a day to relax after such a stressful night.
When I woke up again, my ear hurt from being pressed on the hard floor, so I flattened my body and shimmied out from under the bed.
The trailer sounded different. Where there was usually a hollow tone to the space, I now heard the swishing of air moving.
Wind. Inside my little enclave. A few steps later, I understood where it was coming from.
Glass arced out across the kitchen floor, and a puddle of rain water flooded the linoleum.
I followed the source of the water and saw a hole in the upper corner of my kitchen where my window and roof used to be.
And where a giant branch was now resting on my crumpled fridge. “What the fuck…”
For one long moment, I just froze in place and couldn’t get my legs to move. In my head, I was sixteen again and running from those who threatened to take my life. Was this the same thing?
No, not at all. Probably. Maybe. It took another second before I could force air into my lungs and step toward the front door.
On shaking legs, I yanked open the door and stumbled outside. An entire tree had come down behind my place and one of the smaller limbs was responsible for the damage to my home. My sanctuary. My safe place.
Instead of being grateful that the whole tree didn’t crush me in my sleep, I was low-key furious that the one place I could truly hide was now gone.
I couldn’t live here anymore. Even if I wanted to, the new landlord would probably be too worried about lawsuits and insurance companies to let me stay. “Fuck!”