I watched as he clenched his fists, and I thought briefly that he was going to come over here and take on ol’ Bernie Bear. But he didn’t. I was a little disappointed. Maybe that stab wound stopped him. A little reminder of the last time he messed with me.
I hated the fact that the longer he stood there, fists balled up at his sides, drenched from head to toe, the more I felt like I was the one being made to look a fool. I was starting to feel uncomfortable about the situation. He was every bit as creepy-looking as I was, standing there in the rain, hidden in the shadows between two streetlights.
I kept my smile, though. I kept the feeling of superiority I had over him. I knew – and would always know – that I’d had his woman. And he knew I’d had his woman. Every time from now on that he had her, would be a time after I’d had her. That was more than enough to make me cocky.
I knew he hated me. I was glad. I hated him. I just wanted to make sure that he knew his place, which was behind me. He also needed to know his broad’s place, which was under me. That thought made my smile broaden.
But he still stood there, staring me down.
A few more seconds passed before I knew what I would have to do to regain the upper hand here. To make him move, I would have to pull out all the stops. My smile had stopped him, and had even kept him, but now I was tired of him. I wanted him gone.
I knew just what to do to make him go away.
I slowly turned my head to the right, toward the broad’s house, and grabbed my dick.
62 Jill
I sat at the kitchen table, staring at the most beautiful, horrific things I’d ever seen. I was scared to tell Owen about it, but I had to tell someone. I wished Andy was home.
I was biting my nails, for crying out loud. I hadn’t done that in years, yet here I was, reduced to nervous childhood habits. I drew my legs up, pressing my knees to my chest, and wrapped my arms around them. I never took my eyes off what sat on the table. How could I?
How could something so beautiful be so hideous?
I knew how. It was the giver of the gift that ruined the value and beauty.
I knew what I had to do. I had to tell Owen everything. He needed to know about the banging on my front door, the dozen roses that awaited me, and the card. The horrible, awful card that accompanied them.
A shudder went through me.
I jumped up and ran through the house, making sure every door and window was securely locked. I didn’t sit again until I held in my hand the largest kitchen knife I owned.
I didn’t sit long. I couldn’t.
I hopped out of the chair and went to the front door. I peeked out the window and looked at Bernie’s house. A clap of thunder boomed loudly, making my already rapid heartbeat quicken. I couldn’t see much through the rain and the dark. Bernie could’ve been sitting on my porch for all I knew.
I hurriedly pushed that thought out of my mind. Thoughts like that would keep me up tonight. Not that there was a chance in hell I’d be sleeping anyway.
I didn’t know how Carla did it. How could she sleep at night with him right next to her? I couldn’t sleep with him across the street from me, and he hadn’t done anything to me.
Yet.
I shuddered again as I remembered the card.
I considered calling the police, but I knew that it would do no good. Bernie hadn’t signed the card, and I had no proof that he’d left the flowers. Even if they wanted to check it for prints, that would take forever. Especially if he wasn’t in their system. By the time they could prove Bernie left the flowers, he would have me raped, killed, buried, and my body would be no more than bones.
The police couldn’t help me now.
I struggled to keep calm. I did everything I could to fight off the stress of the situation. I’d done okay until after dusk. Once night had fallen, I’d been on edge constantly.
I looked at the clock on the wall and saw that it was almost five. There were only a couple of hours until daylight.
Surely, I could hold out until then.
63 Hazel
I thought I heard a cry, but over the roar of the thunder and the drumming of the rain, I wasn’t sure. I put down the knitting needles and yarn and pushed myself up from the chair, wincing as the pain shot from my shoulder down my arm. When I was standing and the pain was subsiding, I went to the front door. I heard it better now.
I made a trip to the kitchen and returned with a slab of leftover roast.
I unlocked the door and opened it to a wet and whining Oscar.
“You poor thing,” I cooed to him. “You’re wet and hungry. Well, you came to the right place.” I bent down and offered the roast to the dog, who eagerly accepted it. He walked away with it, lying down in a far corner of the porch.
As I slowly stood up, I noticed movement on the street. I could tell it was a large person, but no more than that. It was dark and raining, but that wasn’t the only reason I couldn’t see any more details. I couldn’t see that far.
I only wore my eyeglasses to drive and read. Since I’d been doing neither of those things, I wasn’t wearing them now.
I don’t suppose it mattered. It was odd, though, that anyone would be out in this weather. Then again, Owen had been worried about Carla. If he stayed over at her place and was on his way home, that would make sense. I’d seen him leaving her place late at night and early in the morning before, so it was possible.
I didn’t forget about what Bernie had done to Carla, though. There were bad things happening on this street. I wouldn’t just assume it was nothing, but I wouldn’t jump to conclusions, either.
I told Oscar he was a good boy and went back inside to finish the baby blanket.
I made sure to lock the door behind me.
64 Carla
Just after I finished washing the breakfast dishes, Owen called to say he wouldn’t be over today. He said he wasn’t feeling well. I told him I’d bring him chicken soup, but he begged me not to worry about it. He didn’t want me to catch what he had, which seemed to be no more than a cold.
I wished him well and we hung up the phone. I hated that he was ill. It would be so odd to not see him. I wondered what in the world I would do with myself all day. Then, I remembered I had a new hobby.
I packed up the needles Hazel had given me and the yarn, made sure the kids had something to do, and we all headed to Hazel’s.
Along the way, I hoped I wasn’t being rude or intrusive. She’d told me to come over any time, but what if that was just something she said to be nice?
Any doubts I had were washed away when she opened the door. Her face lit up.
“Come on in here,” she said, stepping back to allow us to enter.
The kids rushed in ahead of me. They must’ve felt the grandmotherly vibe that I’d felt yesterday. They were already at home here. I was so happy that they would finally have someone they could consider their grandmother.
I took my spot on the couch as Hazel sat in her chair.
“Are you all hungry? I’ve got some food in there. I can make you something.” She waited for me to tell her we were fine before picking up her needles.
We knitted in silence for a while. Then, she talked about growing up, meeting her husband, and raising her kids.
As I listened to her stories, I realized how much I liked her. She’d been through so much in her life. It wasn’t all good. But look at her now. She seemed happy, though she’d grown up poor and had out-lived two husbands and a daughter. She was an amazing person. That was in addition to being so nice.