I glanced at the window; I glanced at the kitchen not knowing which way to move.
There were dozens of thoughts scattering through my head, but not one of them held still long enough to hold my attention until the blood stained carpet captured both my gaze and my mind. I went to the linen closet, grabbed an old sheet,and threw it over the spot on the floor. I dropped into my favorite chair and stared at a blank TV which I never bothered to turn on. When the rest of the room grew as dark as the screen, I startled to alertness. I darted from room to room turning on every light I could.
My heart was pounding, and I was dismayed to admit that I was afraid in my own home. I needed to speak with Wanda, and she needed to know about C.C. and Lindsey. Maybe she could shed some light on what had happened. Traveling from park to park, Wanda and Jesse, her husband, would be difficult to reach. Would the old number I had for her still reach her? And where was C.C. anyway? If he should return, how could I possibly tell him about Lindsey? What was in that letter?
I stood at the fridge conjuring question after question until the icemaker filled my glass and started pouring ice on to the floor. The noise of it hitting the tile startled me, and I dropped my glass. As I bent to pick it up , I caught a blur and motion at my kitchen window. As I tried to talk myself out of seeing things that were not there, I heard a tap at the window. I’ve always scoffed at TV and movie characters when they went toward frightening noises . I figured anyone in his or her right mind would run in the opposite direction. That isn’t what happens though. You do approach the unapproachable. You have to see the face of what is frightening to you even if you dare not look. I yanked at the curtain to see what it would reveal. I was more frightened to think I’d find no one there than to come face to face with an intruder. Intruder it was; C.C motioned for me to open the balcony door. How had he climbed to my second floor balcony? He didn’t tell me, but that became a trifling question compared to all I needed to learn from him. I let him in and was ready to throw all of the chaos, sorrow, violence, and fear he had invited into my home back at him. I was trembling with both rage and relief at seeing him.
He boyishly tried to defuse me by saying “Could you make that tea for two?”
