Date Night
Voice mail message from Clay: “Hey, babe. Just got in a few minutes ago. I’ve booked a table at Nandos for six thirty. Give me a call when you get this message.”
Clay was disappointed to come back to an empty house. He had spent the day in London and expected to see Claire that Friday night at his house.
After thirty minutes of waiting with no response, Clay became a permanent fixture in the window, looking for Claire’s white Polo.
Clay watched the BBC News to distract himself. After the first commercial break, the notion of trying to avoid thinking about Claire only made it worse.
Click.
Upon turning the television off, Clay heard a woman’s voice coming from the study. It was a faint voice. He didn’t feel threatened by the voice. The voice was soothing.
Clay crept up the stairs to investigate. The door to the study was closed, and the woman’s voice grew louder.
Clay pushed the door open with both hands.
He wasn’t scared, he was mortified.
The woman’s voice was that of his favorite porn star, Kay Parker, in the throws of passion on his computer screen.
Clay panicked. He saw his whole world hanging by a thread. Clay realized he was caught out in a lie, a huge lie given Claire’s disdain for porn. He frantically dialed Claire’s cell. No answer. He dialed the number thirty-two more times, with the same result.
He wondered how she’d cracked the password to his hidden folder. It seemed impossible.
The only way to properly address the situation was to drive to her house. Clay could feel the blisters forming on his back, soaking his shirt. He took four hits from his inhaler to restore his breathing, which spun out of control. He was a complete mess and lost without his girl.
Clay sat parked in her drive for five long hours. He fell asleep with his inhaler in hand.
Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz
Clay was awakened by his cell going off. He was relieved because only Claire would be calling him at such a late hour. He braced himself for a serious ass-chewing, but he knew he deserved it.
“Hi, Claire. I’m so sorry. Please let me make it up to you. I need to be with you. Life sucks when you’re not in it,” Clay begged and pleaded.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Thompson, but this is the Huntingdon Police Department.”
“What?” Clay was gutted. “Police department? Why on earth are you calling me this late at night?”
“Sir, sorry to call so late, but your silent alarm was activated about ten minutes ago. There is activity in your guest bedroom. We sent a car over there, but there were no signs of forced entry. It’s probably a false alarm. If everything is in order when you get home, please notify us. Enjoy the rest of your night.”
Clay knew exactly what the score was. This was not a matter for the police; it was a spiritual vendetta that needed to be settled. Clay’s heartache over Claire morphed into a raging fury. His adrenaline pumped rapidly through his veins. He was on a mission, but he needed help, spiritual armor. He prayed a fervent prayer with his forehead pressed against the steering wheel.
“Dear Lord. I am just a lowly servant, and I am nothing without you. Please give me the strength to beat the shit out of that little asshole. Amen.”
Completely unhinged, Clay burned rubber out of Claire’s drive and raced home.
He opened the door with brute force, causing the doorknob to make an indentation in the wall. Clay was in overdrive, fueled with a vengeance.
As he stood in the doorway, he was momentarily distracted by a lone bee caught in a web in the ceiling corner. Within seconds, hundreds of bees descended on the web to sting the spider and rescue the distressed bee.
Clay covered his eyes and ran through the dense swarm of bees, heading to the kitchen. He removed a large knife from the large utensil rack. The deafening sound of the buzzing of bees only made Clay angrier and more determined to end the forty-year-old feud.
Clay raised the large knife.
“Olly olly oxen free, you little piece of shit!,” he challenged his nemesis. “This ends tonight, you son of a bitch.”
Clay waded through the buzzing swarm of bees and marched upstairs to the guest bedroom. He stood atop of the stairs and noticed the door was shut.
It was time to engage the enemy. Clay donkey-kicked the door open and raised the knife high.
“Darryl?”
The amber light of the EKG flickered on and off.
Clay’s beloved brother Darryl lay on his death bed unconscious.
The knife fell to the floor.
Thud.
Clay was overcome with emotion, and he cried in place watching his brother die in front of him.
Clay realized that Darryl hadn’t come back. Darryl had been summoned by Clay from his resting place, because of a deal with the devil.
Unspeakable guilt consumed Clay and he now realized he was in a nightmare. Darryl’s presence confirmed that.
As Clay stood before his dying brother, he heard footsteps creeping up behind him. It was death, in the form of an eight-year-old kid.
Clay heard the butcher knife picked up off the floor behind him. It made a scraping sound. The stench of sour milk made Clay’s hair stand on end. He was defeated and prepared to accept the inevitable. He’d lost the will to fight.
A silhouette of the raised knife beamed on the opposite wall. Clay closed his eyes braced for imminent death. The buzzing sound of the bees downstairs grew louder, causing Clay to cover his ears.
Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz, Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz.
“Dear Lord, don’t let me perish.”
Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz, Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz.
Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz, Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz.
The sound of Clay’s cell phone interrupted his nightmare. He reached for it on the nightstand. He was out of breath. He answered the phone.
Cough, cough, cough. “Hello? Hello? I can’t hear you. Sorry, this is a really bad connection. Whoever you, thank you. You just saved my life.”
Clay hung up the phone, completely exasperated from a nightmare from hell. He sat up in bed, soaked from sweat. He didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t.
Lying next to him was the outline of a human form underneath the duvet. He fixated on it before he whisked the duvet away.
Staring right at him were the most beautiful green eyes.
“Claire?”
“Of course, silly. Who else would it be?” Claire yawned and stretched, lifting her arms high. “Who was that on the phone?”
Clay checked his phone. “It says out of area.” He silently thanked God for the call that had saved his life.
He rubbed his eyes and refocused on Claire.
“Claire, have I ever told you how beautiful you look?”
“You’re just saying that because I’m naked.”
“Claire, what day is it?”
“It’s Valentine’s Day, silly.”
“Okay, so what happened last night?”
“The police officer came by and said you can’t cash the check. Don’t you remember?”
Claire followed Clay into the shower. Clay was soothed by the splashing of hot water on his back. It allowed him to decompress.
After drying himself off, Clay wrapped a towel around his waist and went into the study and checked his computer.
The first thing he checked was his history. It had a clean bill of health. He opened an email that required his immediate attention. He typed away furiously.
Clay and Claire had a light breakfast.
“Honey, I have to go to the VA this morning. I’ll be away for a few hours. There are a few things I need to take care of.”
“But, Clay, your appointment is tomorrow.”
“Sweetheart, I know it’s tomorrow. I just need to have a word with them first. I’ll be back in time for our reservation tonight.”
Claire kissed Clay’s lips, leaving a glossy smudge.