It was hard to tell exactly what his face looked like, but I was pretty sure that a body as fine as his didn’t belong to anyone I’d ever seen around the house or pool.
Serena and Charlie were sociable people. They did like to invite friends over for pool parties. But I was the only one with permission to use it when they were away. That’s another reason I knew this guy didn’t belong here.
Nobody but me was allowed in the pool when they weren’t home.
As far as I knew, anyway.
And I knew plenty. I’d been living over the garage for three years, and I could see the pool from my windows.
People just didn’t show up and start using it. Whenever I’d seen anyone at the pool, Serena or Charlie or both of them had been there, too.
Of course, I hadn’t spent all my time watching for pool activity. Things might’ve gone on, now and then, that I didn’t know about.
But not much.
I’ve seen squirrels, raccoons, deer and other animals come out of the woods to drink at the pool. I’ve watched Charlie swim his laps at dawn when he probably assumed I was asleep. I’ve even observed the times, fairly often in the summer, when Serena and Charlie went skinny-dipping late at night. They kept the pool lights off, of course, and spoke in whispers or not at all. Whenever they used the pool that way, they always ended up making love. They did it right out in the open, so they must’ve figured I was asleep or blind. Whereas, actually, I happened to be looking out my window.
I was looking out my window more than anyone would’ve guessed, but I’d never found a stranger in the pool.
Not until tonight.
He’d hardly moved at all in the past few minutes. Just drifted this way and that on his back. I began to wonder if maybe he’d fallen asleep. If asleep, he must’ve been having a doozy of a dream.
The telephone rang.
After midnight, and it suddenly let out a loud jangle in the silence and darkness of the den.
I jumped and yelped.
Out on the pool, the stranger’s head jerked sideways in the water. I couldn’t see his eyes, but I knew he was staring straight at me.
4
THE PHONE CALL
Not that he could see me.
If you’re in real darkness and someone else is out in the moonlight, he doesn’t stand a chance of spotting you.
But I felt his eyes on me.
I flinched as the phone rang again.
A phone isn’t meant to ring that late at night. It scares you. Even if you’re not alone in the house and spying on a prowler, the ringing rips through your nerves.
Friends don’t call after nine. Not unless there’s an emergency.
It rang again, and I flinched again.
Out in the pool, the man rolled over, turned and started gliding toward me with his head up.
The phone rang again as I took slow backward steps away from the glass door.
Why did it have to be so loud?
I knew he could hear it. Maybe not this particular phone, but a general clamor. I’d been swimming in the pool myself, sometimes, when people called. Even with the doors and windows shut, you could hear rings and chirps and warbles and tweets from all over the house. I don’t even know how many phones Serena had, but at least five—maybe seven or eight. It was a big house, and there were phones in nearly every room.
The only answering machine was in the den.
With me.
After the fourth ring came clicks that meant the machine was responding.
I kept creeping backward.
Outside, the stranger arrived at the side of the pool. He stood up, put his hands on the concrete edge, and seemed to stare straight at me.
I’m not big on distances. My guess, though—he was only twelve or fifteen feet away from the glass door. And I was on the other side of it, five or six feet back.
More clicks from the machine.
A man’s voice said, “Ah, you finally got yourself an answering machine. Hope it’s not because of me. But it probably is, huh? Who’s the guy you got to record the greeting for you?” A pause. “Never mind. It’s none of my business, I guess. Anyway, are you there? Judy? If you’re there, would you pick up? Please? I know you probably don’t want to talk to me, but…I don’t want to lose you. I love you. Are you there? Please, talk to me.”
He went silent.
The man in the pool jumped, planted a foot on the edge, and climbed out.
“The thing is, I’m not going to call again. I’m not going to beg you to change your mind. I’m not going to plead with you. I’ve got to hang on to a little of my dignity, you know?”
The man started walking slowly toward the glass door.
“So this’ll be it. The ball’s in your court. If you really want it to be over, fine. I’ll accept that. I’ll never bug you again. It’ll be adios, Tony. Forever. I don’t want that to happen, but hell…Are you there, Judy? It feels weird, talking to you this way. Would you please pick up, if you’re there?”
The stranger arrived at the door and peered in.
Could he see me?
Could he hear the quick loud thudding of my heart?
I stood motionless, staring at him. He had his arms raised like a guy who’s been ordered to “stick ’em up.” His open hands were pressed against the glass. So was his forehead. But his nose didn’t touch the glass. Neither did his chest or belly or legs. Nothing else touched except for the tip of his penis, which looked like a smooth and strange little face pushing against the glass to help him search for me.
“Okay,” Tony said to the answering machine. “If that’s how you want it. Anyway, I’ve moved to a new place. I couldn’t stand being in the old apartment anymore, not after everything that’d happened there.” He sounded as if he were trying not to cry. “I’ll give you my number, and you can call me if you want to. If you don’t call, I’ll understand.”
As Tony gave his new telephone number, the man outside took a step away from the door, reached down and grabbed the handle and jerked it.
Snatching up the phone with one hand, I blurted, “Tony!”
With my other hand, I slapped up the light switch.
A lamp came on by the couch.
The sudden brightness hurt my eyes, made me squint, obliterated my moonlit view of the stranger. The sliding door was now a mirror. It showed me a hollow, transparent version of the coffee table, the lamp, and me.
I saw myself with the phone against my left ear. I stood crooked, still bent sideways to the right as if frozen in my reach for the light switch. My belt had come loose. The open robe seemed to split me down the middle. It still covered my left side from shoulder to thigh, but my entire right side was bare to the gaze of the stranger.
If he was still there.
He must’ve leaped back when the light first came on.
Now he returned, looming out of the darkness just beyond the door and pressing his body against the glass.
Tony was talking into my ear. I didn’t pay much attention, but he seemed to believe I was Judy.
The stranger gaped in at me. With his body pressed to the door, the lamplight reached him. He looked awful—grotesquely flattened and spread out—like an alien creature trying to ooze through the glass.
“HELLO!” I shouted into the phone. “POLICE! I WANT TO REPORT A PROWLER!”
“Huh?” Tony asked. “A prowler?”
The stranger writhed against the glass, licked it, rubbed it with his body and open hands as if making believe it was me.
From where I stood, it looked like me.
My reflection was superimposed over him.
He couldn’t see that, though. And didn’t need to, because he had a great view of the real me.
“YES! HE’S IN THE YARD! HE’S TRYING TO FORCE HIS WAY IN. THIS IS 3838 WOODSIDE LANE. YOU’VE GOT TO GET OVER HERE RIGHT AWAY!”