Wacky Washington TKO #1

She is sleeping now, huddled into the corner of the bed with the blankets curled up tight under her chin. I cannot rest, so I sit on the edge and watch over her. I always have.

Our bedroom is bathed in ghostly moonlight, painting everything silver. Nowhere is this more apparent than the dresser on the opposite wall, which she has decorated with picture frames. They seem to glow with a phantasmal radiance. One in particular catches my eye, two children and their lemonade stand.

I walk over to the picture, picking it up. The boy in the picture is me, and she is the girl. We were nine years old, and our smiles in the picture are as bright as the summer sun that day. I remember it well. Our days were full of laughing joy, and countless games. But I also remember that night.

Her mother took our picture, as we proudly displayed our wares. She went inside to make lunch while we called out to passers-by. The hot summer sun brought us several cheerful customers. I collected change while she poured the sticky-sweet juice. Business was brisk until about three in the afternoon.

We basked in warm sunlight in our lawn chairs, while I counted quarters.

“Eight dollars!” I almost cheered, impressed with our good fortune. She laughed and hugged me.

“Nice work, partner! We’ll be rich this summer!”

We started cleaning up: lawn chairs went back in the shed, the card table into the basement. Paper cups belonged in the garbage, while supplies and the jugs went back in the kitchen.

We played tag in the backyard until our mothers called us in for supper.

“Hey,” she grabbed my arm as I moved to hurry home, “Come back tonight, when your parents are asleep. Knock on my window.”

She whispered it, like a secret, and I smiled. “A new game?”

“You’ll see.”

We ate hot dogs and potato chips, a lazy summer dinner. I was quiet through the meal, speculating as to the coming night’s events. Were we going to tell ghost stories? Perhaps star gazing. My father had once taken me out to see owls in flight, maybe we would sneak off to the woods.

I brushed my teeth and had a bath without argument, not wanting to ruffle any feathers before bedtime. I sat up reading until my mother told me “Lights out!”

I lay down in my bed, holding a flashlight to my chest. I made a tent of my blanket over my head, and read more stories to stay awake. When I heard my parents approach, I snuggled down and pretended to be asleep. They peeked in on me and then closed the door.
I heard sounds from the bathroom. I guessed they were brushing their teeth when I heard the sink run and a cupboard open. My ears strained for sound. Someone flushed, and washed their hands. I heard their bedroom door open and close.

I waited. My own breath and heartbeat were soon the only sounds. I went into action, a man on a mission.

I arranged my pillow and blanket to look like a sleeping lump, and quietly opened my window. I dropped soundlessly into the grass, leaving our bungalow behind as I crept silently across our backyard. The moon was bright, making it easy to find my way. In the dark our abandoned toys would have been a minefield, but now they were easy to see.

I slipped through the old gap in the hedge, a path between our yards that was well-worn with use. A branch got stuck in my hair, and I brushed the leaves out without a pause. I crawled across her back lawn on my belly, remembering soldiers from some G.I. Joe episode. I was a secret agent, creeping up on watchful guards, James Bond on a mission...

“Sammy, hurry!” She hissed from her open window at the corner of the house, waving. I jumped up and hurried forward, jumping at the sill. Her hands went around my wrists, helping to pull me up, but we couldn’t get enough support. I went to the shed and grabbed one of the lawn chairs we had used earlier in the day. Using it to boost myself up, I got part way in the window. Her pulls helped me go the rest of the way. We tumbled from the window onto her bed.

“Shhhhh!” She put a finger to her lips as I fought giggles. She craned her head, listening. “I think Mom is still asleep.”

I nodded, looking around. I had never been in her room at night before.

Her room in the daytime was a pink nightmare, with dolls and flowered wallpaper. It smelled girly, like strawberry milkshakes. I avoided it as much as possible; it was such a sissy room, and not at all in keeping with her usual tomboy pursuits. But in the moonlight it was silver and blue, and I found I liked it better this way.

“So what’s the game?” I whispered. “Are we sneaking out to catch frogs?”

“What? No, silly, nothing like that.”

“Then what are we doing?”

“You’re here as a bodyguard,” she whispered conspiratorially. “There’s a monster in my closet!”

I looked towards the closet door on the opposite wall, beside the door to the hall.

“Monsters aren’t real,” I told her benevolently, like an adult to a child.

“Then you won’t be afraid, will you?” She said. “You’re perfect for the job.”

“Are you kidding?”

She looked at me. The moon highlighted her face through the window. Her eyes were filled with emotion, and her grip on my arm was shaking. She was genuinely scared, and had been joking around to cover it up.

“I’m not kidding. Please just stay, so I can sleep? I’ll feel better if I know you’re here.”

Not knowing what to say, I just nodded. For the first time, I thought monsters might actually be real after all. I had never seen her so afraid.

She pulled her blanket around herself, huddling against the wall. I sat on the edge of the bed, watching over her. She smiled in gratitude.

“I’ll stay awake all night, so he can’t get you,” I promised.

“You don’t have to do that,” she replied, growing quieter.

“It’s okay, I want to.”

I slipped down to the floor and sat against the closet door. I figured that a monster wouldn’t be able to open it, that way, and I’d be able to keep him inside if he tried to get out.

The moonlight bathed her bed, illuminating her like an angel. I saw her drift off to sleep. I watched as long as I could, but I think I nodded off after awhile. I know I fell asleep because a noise startled me awake.

Someone, or something, was shuffling down the hallway.

I wondered if she got it wrong, that perhaps the monster had a way into the house from under another bed, or a different closet. I heard its heavy tread, stumbling and shuffling closer. I craned my neck to stare at the closed door.

I shivered, frozen in place. It got closer. I heard its stumbling feet, and then it was at the door to the hall, slowly turning the knob. I felt my heart jump as the door opened. My throat closed up as I tried to gulp for air.

I almost laughed with relief when her father’s face appeared in the slightly open doorway.

“Hello, Mr. Hutchins,” I whispered, glad to see his familiar face.

“Huh? Whozzat? Sammy?” He looked around in confusion, finding me sitting on the floor. His voice was thickened somehow, like his tongue had grown too big for his mouth. “Sammy, ya look like a ghos’ down dere! Ya scared me!”

“No ghosts, just me. I slept over tonight,” I answered, once I puzzled out what he was saying.

“Izzat so? Didn’ know ya was doin’ that. Where’z Meggan? Where’z my dotter?”

He spoke slowly, as if concentrating on what to say and how to say it. I realized there was a smell in the room, like my dad’s used beer bottles. He blinked at the moonlit room, looking around.

“She’s already asleep. You can say hi in the morning.”

“Oh. Oh, well. Shee you later than, I guessh.” He slurred, withdrawing from the room. He stumbled and closed the door with a bump. The bitter smell left with him. For the first time that strawberry smell wasn’t so bad.

I heard him stumble back down the hallway, further and further away until finally the house was quiet again.

The bump of the door disturbed Meggan, who had tossed and turned a bit during my conversation with her father. She shook a few times, and I guess startled herself awake. She looked over at me, groggy, rubbing her eyes. Once the confusion cleared, she spoke.

“Did the monster come?”

“No, I think I scared him away,” I answered.