“And the time at the sound of the footsteps is twelve-fifty,” Clayton said and smiled.
He listened to Rose pace up and down, pausing to turn around when she reached each end of her apartment.
He’s called every night for the past two weeks. He’ll call again tonight.
Of course, if he had the guts…
Light glinted into the apartment. He sat up straight and watched, and soon realized he was holding his breath. He let it out gently as the light shimmered again.
His mysterious light was back — and just like the other times, it was the same pattern.
He stood, and as he wandered over to the window, his thoughts about it being a cry for help seemed more logical. It looked like some kind of signal.
It was a bright moon again and a warm night. He could feel a gentle breeze seeping in. He looked down at the alley. He noticed movement down there among the shadows. His heart began to race. What if he was right and down in the alley was his prisoner trying to reach him?
The distant sound of trashcans being hit made its way up into Clayton’s apartment.
As he leaned forward in the hope of a better view, his eyes caught a glimmer of light.
It vanished soon after, but in that moment, he was certain that the light was coming from somewhere directly ahead, not down in the alley.
Probably just some cats, he thought as the noise below continued.
He turned his attention from the alley to the warehouse opposite.
His window, like all the apartments on this side of the building, faced an old warehouse that had been closed for years. The FOR RENT sign had long since been defaced by graffiti and its dark, empty rooms were now home to the odd vagrant and junkie. It was big and dirty and empty and ugly. Not the nicest view to have, but considering the type of tenement he was living in, it was appropriate.
The light did seem to be stemming from that direction, but Clayton couldn’t make out exactly where it was coming from. The way the light flickered on and off, it could’ve been coming from anywhere.
But what’s causing it?
Clayton stared so long and hard into the dark windows of the warehouse that his eyes began playing tricks. He thought he saw the dark shape of a person — a person sitting in one of the rooms.
Clayton blinked and shook his head.
Christ, I’m seeing things.
He looked back into the room where he thought he had seen the dark figure, but saw only blackness.
He smiled.
Amazing what the mind can conjure up when looking into darkness.
The light glinted once more, then vanished.
From upstairs he heard the muffled voice of Rose.
Made it safely through another night, it seems.
With a sigh, Clayton turned away from the window. He wandered over to his bed and hopped in.
Questions floated around in his mind, questions he was still trying to answer when he drifted off to sleep twenty minutes later.
It had been a long, boring day. Clayton had gone to the store and bought some chocolate, coffee, bread, cigarettes and more beer. He was running low on cash, so he could only afford the essentials. The only interesting thing that happened was seeing Rose. She had been outside, leaning against the building, smoking. Hal hadn’t been around, Clayton assumed he was upstairs sleeping, and she had smiled at him as he walked up the steps leading to the front entrance, carrying his groceries. He had wanted to say something witty, but only smiled and nodded, then went on his merry way.
I’m an idiot, he thought as he sat waiting in the darkness of his apartment, a can of Coors Light clutched in his sweaty hand. I had an opportunity to talk to her, and what did I do? Smiled like a moron and kept on going.
It was some consolation that Rose had smiled at him. But he figured she was that sort of person — kind and gregarious and smiling at everyone as they went past.
He liked to think she had smiled at him because she fancied him. Liked to think it was some signal for him to come on up when her husband was out tonight.
Which is what I should be doing right now instead of sitting here waiting for the light.
Clayton jumped when the footsteps started. He let out a nervous chuckle.
Thump thump thump thump… Thump thump thump thump…
He wasn’t sure why he was so keyed up tonight. He had been on edge ever since seeing Rose this afternoon.
He took a drink and watched the window.
She is hot, though.
He pictured the way she looked today — tight white tube top and short cut-off jeans.
Thank the Lord for summer, he thought, and continued waiting.
When the light didn’t appear, even after a few minutes of listening to Rose upstairs, Clayton sighed with disappointment.
Where is it?
He turned and glanced at the clock. He saw his answer. It was only twelve-thirty. Based on the last three nights, the light wouldn’t start until twelve-fifty.
Still twenty minutes to go.
It was Rose that was early.
Poor woman, Clayton thought. She’s getting more and more nervous as the nights wear on.
He wondered what kind of state she was going to be in after a month of waiting and pacing.
Perhaps she would be grateful for the company. After all, she did smile at him, so she obviously knew he lived in the building and thought of him as a friendly neighbour.
I can’t. That’s not me. I’ve never gone up to a virtual stranger’s apartment and asked if they wanted company. She’ll think I’m a weirdo or something.
Still, the notion excited him.
Thump thump thump thump…Thump thump thump thump…
And she was alone up there. Young, beautiful, anxious, probably in dire need of a strong arm to comfort her and keep her warm until hubby called.
He thought about his conversation with Geoff last night. About what Geoff had said to him — “Look, why don’t you go up to Rose and keep her company until Hal comes home? At least she won’t keep you up with her pacing.”
Why not? I’ve got nothing to lose.
Except his teeth if she told her husband when he arrived home.
But he won’t be home for another hour. Imagine that — a whole hour with Rose. I’ve got to grow some balls and take a risk every once in a while.
He decided it was worth risking a few teeth for the chance of spending some time with Rose.
Clayton stood up and headed for the door. He was still in his jeans and T-shirt, so he didn’t have to change, however he did stop off at the bathroom to use some deodorant and mouthwash before leaving.
He opened the door a crack and peered out at the dim hallway. All was quiet, so he walked out, closed the door and crept toward the stairs that led to the top floor.
He didn’t need to be so sneaky, considering people came and went all throughout the night (there was business being conducted in the building other than men tending to the needs of poor helpless women), but he felt sly and even a bit shameful.
After all, this was a married woman he was going up to see.
Clayton took each step carefully, and when he reached the top, was relieved that he didn’t encounter any late night visitors.
He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans then proceeded down the hall.
Usually Clayton was the first to complain about the poor lighting in the building, but tonight he was grateful for it.
He stopped at apartment 612.