ONE NORMAL LIFE / TWO EXTRAORDINARY LIVES
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BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
210
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11,878
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Category:
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
210
Views:
11,878
Reviews:
182
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
THE HOUSE OF NIGHT
CHAPTER 159 - THE HOUSE OF NIGHT
OCTOBER 4, 2009
SATURDAY
3:00AM
The week had been pure hell.
Buffy had gone back to work on Monday, with a short explanation to Mrs. Carpello, because she felt guilty not doing so, but she’d struggled constantly to keep her mind on the present. Thank goodness, the pace of work, and the children themselves by their very natures, kept her rooted in the here and now. Still, she would find herself glancing out the windows frequently to see if she might see him driving past. The mere glimpse of a black car would make her heart start to pound. Finally, she told the kids that she had a temporary problem with her eyes, just so she could close the blinds to the outside world.
On the last day of the week, Sally, her bright, intuitive, and sometimes blunt student she’d had in her classroom for the past couple of years had come up to her asking, “Why hasn’t Mr. W. been around yet this year at all?”
“I’ll tell you later,” she’d managed to say, her eyes tearing up, at the look of sincere interest and sympathy she was getting from Sally.
Other students, as well, had seemed to sense her pain in the way they would look at her from time to time, or pat her on the arm. Buffy felt immense guilt over the atmosphere of sadness she must unconsciously have been subjecting them to.
Right before the day ended, she called them over to the rug where they gathered for storiesand meetings, and spoke.
“This is a hard thing for me to tell you, as it’s very personal. And, I’m only going to speak of this once, and once only; is that clear?” she asked looking over at the children. She glanced at Lily, who nodded at her, reassuringly.
The children also nodded their heads, solemnly.
“However, I care about you, and I know you care about me, so I thought it only fair that I be honest about you. Some of you have asked me recently where Wam..am...Mr. W. has been, and why he’s not around anymore. I know that those of you that met him last year, were very fond of him,” she said smiling gently at them, before continuing.
“Sometimes adults have to...have their own paths to follow for a while, and that means that they have to do so, on their own for a while. In this case, Mr. W. and I aren’t together right now, though we still love each other very much. That’s why you aren’t going to see him around for a while. That’s all I wanted to say on the subject. Oh, and I apologize if I’ve seemed sad lately. I won’t lie to you and say that it’s easy, because it’s not, but I’ll get through it; everyday all of you help me with your smiling, beautiful faces. Now, let’s get ready to go home,” Buffy said, and dismissed her class.
kid kids all came up to her and hugged her extra hard as they left.
“Thanks for telling us,” Sally said on her way out.
Buffy nodded.
Katie echoed the same sentiments, as did all the others after her. There were also more than a handful of children who stopped to tell her about someone in their own families, who’d left home, and they got a big reassuring hug from Buffy; she knew all too well how it felt to have a parent leave.
Seemed someone was always leaving.
The last of the kids were gone, and Buffy walked back into the classroom, just as Lily was straightening up the shelves, and putting folders away.
“You did good,” she told her.
“Ts,” s,” Buffy said.
“If you ever want to talk...”
“Thanks,” Buffy had replied, and let Lily give her a hug as well.
Before she left, Mrs. Carpello asked her permission to let the other teachers know that her home situation had changed, since they too had noticed William’s absence. She told her that would be alright, wishing she had the energy, or the nerve to do it herself, but she just couldn’t.
The week had been positively exhausting, lonely evenings spent driving around looking for William, and not finding him, going home defeated; jumping when the phone would ring, and depressed when it didn’t. Each night was excruciatingly long, and mostly sleepless.
Now the weekend beckoned ahead of her, and she didn’t know what else she could do, other than what she’d already been doing.
She’d come home after school, changed into her jeans, and began her nightly prowl of the streets around Julian once more. Finally, she came home.
Exhausted, she’d fallen into bed, crying herself to sleep in his pillow, only to awaken from an old nightmare in the middle of the night. She’d gotten out of bed, and called Willow.
Willow, on the other side of the Atlantic, listened to the events that Buffy laid out for her from the past two weeks.
“I don’t get it, why did he up and leave, after telling Wallace to tell you he’d be there if you wanted to talk?” she asked Buffy.
“I think he looked in my car, and when he saw all his things, just thought I’d brought them to him, because I wanted him gone,” Buffy said, miserably.
“Why did you bring them, if you were going to try to talk him into coming home?”
“I brought them,” Buffy explained, “because I wasn’t sure if I could talk him into coming home, and because they were things he would need. I just hoped it would be a last resort, not a first choice. Guess I’ll never know that now. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought them...”
“Buffy, you didn’t do anything wrong! William made a choice, a bad one, when he left home without facing you first. And now he’s made another bad call, to leave Edna’s, without even knowing why you came, without facing you.”
“I know,” Buffy said quietly, “but it’s done now, isn’t it? He’s made his choice, good or bad.”
This wasn’t good, not at all. “What are you going to do? Do you need me to do anything?” ow aow asked.
Buffy didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Finally, she said, “Maybe you could be angry at him for me, I just don’t have it in me...”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The week had been pure hell.
After he’d hurriedly left Edna’s, he’d driven to San Marcos, and had slept in his car at the university. Although it was Sunday the next day, the library and student centers were still open. William used the facilities there to wash up as best he could, and changed his clothes in one of the stalls.
In the student center canteen, he bought a day old sandwich and a cup of soup out of one of the machines, and sat eating alone in the mostly empty room. He picked up a newspaper that had been abandoned, and tried to read it, but his mind kept wandering too much for him to take anything in. After rereading the same paragraph for the third time, without knowing what it was about, he closed the paper, and tossed it across the table from him.
“Hey,” he heard a soft female voice say nearby.
His head jerked up towards the sound, but the woman, standing at the doorway was looking at one of the young men seated about five tables away from him.
“Alison, you made it!” one of the boys exclaimed, going over to her, unabashedly enveloping her in a bear hug, and kissing her on the mouth for more than a few seconds.
“Tommy, stop!” Alison said, blushing at the catcalls, hoots, calls to. ‘Get a room,’ coming from the other guys from the table.
Alison saw William looking at her, and blushed, “Sorry ‘bout that, sir,” she said.
William looked away, embarrassed, feeling old and alone. Sir, she’d called him, as if he were an old, widowed uncle or something. If she had any idea of how long he’d lived, or what he’d been, she would run screaming from the room, he thought morosely.
He tried to go back to his stale sandwich, and barely warm soup, but was now distracted by the giggling coming from the table they had sat down at. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Alison sitting on Tommy’s lap, her slender body molded to his, her blonde hair falling down her back, as Tommy’s hand ran circles over her back, lower and lower...
“Hey, dude need a camera?” asked a boy with brown hair, who looked to be about 18 years old.
“Wh...what?” William asked, startled.
“I. Asked. Dude,” the boy repeated slowly, as if speaking to a simpleton, “if you needed a camera?”
William’s face reddened when he got the implication, “I’m...I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare,” he stammered, as he hurriedly picked up the remains of his meal and headed over to the garbage can.
The young man slowly walked over to him, blocking his way, “Well that’s good, see that you don’t anymore, understand me?”
Williaddeddded, as he quickly walked out of the canteen. He could hear their laughter as he hurried away. “Ralph! Why’d you have to go scare him?” he heard Alison ask.
“I just don’t like some other guy getting off on my best buddy’s girlfriend, okay?”
“I don’t think he was doing that...he probably just hasn’t had any in a while,” she said, laughing.
“Him? He probably hasn’t ever had any! Looks like a big loser to me!” Tommy’s extra loud voice floated down the hall after him.
Feeling humiliated like he used to, while bearing the brunt of the cruel taunts of his brother, or so-called friends, William hurried away as quickly as he could without actually running down the hall. Finding the nearest, single bathroom, he dove inside, locking it fast behind him, his heart hammering, his head pounding.
He turned away from the door, and walked over to the sink. He stared into the mirror for a long time. “What are you?” he hissed angrily at his image.
William heard the group that had been in the canteen walk by, laughing and talking, and his eyes took on a hard glint. His hands clenched, and it was all he could do to put his fist into the mirror in front of him.
After getting himself under control, he left the bathroom, making his way to the library. He breathed a sigh of relief, that the group from the canteen was nowhere in sight. He made his way to the top floor of the library to find a spot. There were two librarians at the third floor desk, one he recognized, and one he didn’t. William turned away from the desk not sure he wanted to run into someone who would recognize him.
He came to a group of chairs and couches facing the huge set of floor to ceiling windows, and sat down on the couch, after grabbing a nearby newspaper. It was the New York Times.
As he sat there staring at it, he was reminded of the first time he and Elizabeth had breakfast in bed, and read the New York and London times on a Sunday morning last summer. It had been a few days before his birthday, and she’d brought up the idea of them going to San Juan Capistrano in order to get him out of the house, so that Dawn and Clem could surprise him when they got back.
They had made having breakfast in bed, or brunch, as was the case most of the time, a ritual that they tried to do almost every Sunday. They would read the paper as they ate, just enjoying thosenoseness of each other’s company, trading sections of paper and bites of food, talking about this article, or that one. Eventually, they would make love with a sort of languidness, which would sometimes keep them in bed, into the early afternoon.
William closed his eyes against the pain he felt from the memories, and wondered what she was doing this Sunday morning. Would he ever be able to live a Sunday morning or look at a New York or London Times without remembering what he’d oncd wid with her?
He spent the rest of the day in the library, until 6:00pm, when he heard the announcement over the intercom that they were getting ready to close up. Depressed about spending another night in his car, he gloomily gathered up his things, and made his way towards the exit. On the way, he stopped to use the bathroom facilities one last time; it would be a long night without simple creature comforts.
A few minutes later, one of the librarians came in to make sure the bathrooms were vacated. Not checking to see around the partition between the door and the last stall that he was occupying, she turned off the light. William was about to yell out, but then a thought came to him. What if he just stayed in the library all night?
He sat there in the dark for a long time. Finally, he rose, and slowly groped his way around the room, until he came to the door.
The library’s soft evening floodlights were the only ones on now, but he could still see fairly well.
He spent the next few hours walking around the library looking at the various collections of books. He found a whole section of poetry, and took a few of them to the nearest table under one of the soft lights.
Like him, romantic at heart, the ones he remembered and loved mostmost were of that nature. The poems he’d cherished and read, even those he tried in vain to write as a young man, had been the yearnings for those things he’d felt he hn hin his heart to give a woman. In the past year, those words of deep love and wonder had finally come to fruition for him. It pained him to see them now, still his lips moved, as he read the familiar verses he’d memorized so many s ags ago.
In his mind’s eye, he could see the dark green covers of his own collection of poetry books, the pages well worn from repeated readings. Yet, there had been one, by a lesser-known author, whose verses had so puzzled and troubled him, they’d drawn him back again and again, as if they’d been trying to tell him something.
*The House of Night
Trembling I write my dream, and recollect
A fearful vision at the midnight hour;
So late, Death o'er me spread his sable wings,
Painted with fancies of malignant power!
Let others draw from smiling skies their theme,
And tell of climes that boast unfading light,
I draw a darker scene, replete with gloom,
I sing the horrors of the House of Night.
Stranger, believe the truth experience tells,
Poetic dreams are of a finer cast
Than those which o'er the sober brain diffused,
Are but a repetition of some action past.
Fancy, I own thy power-when sunk in sleep
Thou play'st thy wild delusive part so well
You lift me into immortality,
Depict new heavens, or draw the scenes of hell.
By some sad means, when Reason holds no sway,
Lonely I roved at midnight o'er a plain
Where murmuring streams and mingling rivers flow,
Far to their springs, or seek the sea again.
Sweet vernal May! though then thy woods in bloom
Flourished, yet nought of this could Fancy see,
No wild pinks blessed the meads, no green the fields,
And naked seemed to stand each lifeless tree. . . .
He shuddered as he finished reading the poem; the words now chilling in context to what he knew about his past. Is that why he had been d to to the poem, because of the darkness it so eloquently evoked in it’s troubling passages? Speaking to him of unknown horrors that he would soon become part?
Is that what Dru had done to him? Shown him the malignant power of the never dying, the undead? She’d shown him scenes from hell; that was for certain!
William put the books back on the shelves. Walking back to the windows, he gazed out, his lone reflection his only company, as he looked towards the dark hills, in the direction of home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He’d fallen asleep on the couch, and just barely managed to escape detection the next morning, only waking when he heard the library open for the day. Luckily, the library quickly filled with students, so his having squatted for the night went unnoticed.
For the next few days, he spent most of his time driving around to nearby towns, and hanging around their local libraries and parks; both being free, and both having washroom facilities. Although he had a little more than $100 in his wallet, when Elizabeth had brought it to him, he now only had around $60, after having given Wallace $40, plus what it cost him in gas. He’d also bought a small Styrofoam cooler, which he could keep some food in, so he didn’t have to eat out every day. He also wasn’t in the mood for the company of strangers much these days.
He considered spending another night in the library, but fear of getting caught kept him from doing that. Instead, he slept in the backseat of his car in the university parking lot; each night moving his car to a different spot, between near the campus dorms and the schools, hoping the campus police wouldn’t ask him why he was there.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
OCTOBER 3, 2009
FRIDAY
7:30AM
Tommy squealed into the parking lot, parking haphazardly between two spots.
“That’s some messed up parking!” Ralph said.
“Dude, I’m barely walking!” Tommy said, as he staggered away from the car. “Man, I can’t believe I got classes in an hour, I am so wasted! Fuck!”
“Blow it off!”
“Can’t, missed too many already, and Wittman said if I missed anymore, he’d fail me for the semester. Fucker! My dad said he’d make me come home and work on the farm, if I flunked anymore courses. Fuck!”
“Better drink a lot of black coffee then,” Ralph said, grinning.
“Yeah, that’nna nna help!”
Ralph’s eye caught sight of the DeSoto parked off by itself at the end of the row. “Cool old car, who do you think that belongs to?”
“I dunno, never saw it before.”
Ralph and Tommy walked up to car and were admiring it, when they noticed someone asleep in the backseat.
“Who is that? He looks familiar,” Tommy said.
“It’s that asshole from the canteen,” Ralph answered, as William stirred in his sleep.
“What the fuck is he doing here?”
“Maybe he’s stalking us, or maybe he’s stalking Alison!”
“Hey you little fucker! Wake up!” Tommy yelled, banging on the to the the car.
“Wh...?” William’s eyes flew open, heart pounding, as he saw the angry faces of Tommy and Ralph, looking in at him. “What do you want?” he managed to say.
“What do we want Tommy?” Ralph asked.
“I don’t know, what do we want?” Tommy repeated.
“We want to know whe fue fuck you’re in our parking lot, and why you’re stalking Alison?”
William managed to sit up, pushing the blanket off of himself, “Who’s Alison? I don’t even know anybody by that name, and I’m certainly not stalking anyone! I was just...sleeping.”
“I was just sleeping, I don’t know any Alison, I wasn’t stalking anyone,” Ralph mocked.
Ralph looked over at Tommy, “Maybe he wasn’t stalking Alison, maybe it was you he was staring at the other day.”
“The fuck?”
“Yeah, remember when we thought he was getting off on watching Alison? Maybe it was you he was getting off on; maybe he’s a queer! Maybe he’s stalking you!”
Tommy’s face turned beat red, “Get the fuck out of the car!” he yelled through the window.
William shook his head.
“Faggot!” Tommy yelled, bringing his fist down on the top of the roof of the car again.
“I’m not a...and I wasn’t stalking anyone, I was just sleeping,” William stammered.
“Why were you sleeping in your car? HERE?”
William just shook his head, looking down.
“Your boyfriend kick you out?”
Ralph spotted a large piece of broken cement, and picked it up, handing it to Tommy with a nod.
Tommy held up the piece of cement, showing it to William, “Either you get out of the fucking car, or we’re coming in!”
William looked around at something he could use to defend himself, but there was nothing within reach.
“Now, asshole!” Tommy yelled, smashing the piece of cement into the window nearest William, not hard enough to break it, but causing a spider web of cracks to appear.
“Okay, okay,” William said, as he unlocked the door, and opened it with a feeling of helplessness that made him ashamed.
Rough hands, pulled him out, and threw him against the car, “Talk, why are you out camped out in our dorm’s parking lot?”
William looked at the two men. Both were probably almost ten years younger, taller, stronger, and more athletically built than him. In his mind’s eye, he could almost envision them in another century, the type that always made sport of him. Not physically, once he was older, but the results were nearly the same, his shame and humiliation; and to the victors, went the spoils.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
7:35AM
Professor Wittman turned into the campus, taking a shortcut behind the student housing. He was earlier than usual today, but he had to give his lesson plans to one of his colleagues, who had agreed to take over his morning classes. He glanced down at his watch. Just barely enough time to write them up, then pick up his wife for her doctor’s appointment at Scripps Medical Center in La Jolla.
As he made a right turn to cut through the parking lot of Harrington House, he saw a couple of men hitting another, smaller man, who had just crumpled onto the ground. He pulled his car up, and jumped out, grabbing a small retractable club he kept with him ever since he and his wife were mugged a couple of years ago.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Okay, talk faggot, before we get a little rough!” Tommy said, his breath reeking of alcohol.
“Maybe he likes it a little rough,” Ralph sneered from the other side, “isn’t that how you faggots like it?”
“I’m not a...I’m not,” he said, eyes downcast. Why should he tell them why he was there? What difference could it make to offer up any explanation?
“Well?” Ralph demanded, his face only inches away from his.
William looked up bravely, “I’m not giving you anything, explanation, or otherwise.”
The first punch to the stomach knocked the wind out of William, and he doubled up, his hands automatically going to his middle, at the same time Tommy stepped forward, punching William in the face, knocking William back against the car. He slumped to the ground, as they continued to hit and kick him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Stop that! Get off him, this instant!” Professor Wittman yelled, brandishing the club to use if necessary.
The two men stopped for a moment, ready to ignore the intruder, or give him a beating as well, when they recognized the professor.
“William! Sweet Jesus, are you alright?” Professor Wittman pushed forward, kneeling down by William and helping him into a sitting position.
“Mr. Smith, Mr. Hauer, what were you doing to him?” Professor Wittman demanded, recognizing them as well.
“This asshole was out here stalking Tommy’s girlfriend,” Ralph answered, breathing heavily.
“I highly doubt that,” Professor Wittman said, disgust in his voice, as he turned back to William.
“What happened?” he asked softly, noticing not only the cuts and bruises William had just suffered, but his general disheveled appearance, too.
“Ask him why he’s sleeping out here in his car, in front of Alison’s dorm then?” Tommy interrupted before William could say anything.
Professor Wittman looked at William quizzically, but before he could ask him anything, the campus police pulled up, sirens blaring, followed by an ambulance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
William reluctantly answered the questions of the campus police, while a medic checked out his face and ribs. A gash over his left eyebrow was attended to, and the bleeding stopped by an application of liquid stitches. He declined going to the campus clinic or nearby hospital.
Although he refused to press charges against Tommy and Ralph, the police filed them on his behalf. William just wanted the whole humiliating nightmare to be over.
Before being taken to the campus police station, Tommy asked the officer if he could talk to the professor for moment.
“Make it quick,” the officer warned.
“Um...Professor Wittman?”
Professor Wittman was standing by William when he heard his name. He turned around, “What is it Mr. Smith?”
“I was wondering if I could possibly ask you to not count me absent this morning, er...due to the circumstances.”
“Let me get this right; you want me to excuse your absence from my class because you started an altercation with an innocent man?” Professor Wittman said, disbelieving.
“He’s not so innocent,” Tommy said, defiantly.
“Unbelievable,” he said, looking over at William. “No Mr. Smith, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“That’s not fair! You know I would’ve been in class, if I didn’t have to go down to the station!”
“Fair? You have the audacity to talk about fair...even if that were so; I would’ve askeu tou to leave my classroom the moment you walked in smelling like a brewery. I’m afraid you made your bed, and now you have to lie in it.”
“You’re out of the class, Mr. Smith, both you and Mr. Hauer. Feel free, however, to take it again next semester. Preferably with another professor,” he said, and with that, turned back towards William.
“You’ll regret that,” Tommy said softly, under his breath.
“That’s enough,” the officer said, grabbing Tommy’s arm.
Hen tun turned to the professor; “Did he just threaten you? Because if he did, I can add that to the charges of harassment, assault, public drunkenness, and property damage, as well.”
Professor Wittman shook his head, “Just get him out of here; get them both out of here.”
The small crowd, which had gathered when the police and ambulance had arrived, started to disperse by the time they pulled away with the two boys. Do yDo you want me to call Elizabeth for you?” Professor Wittman gently asked William, who was now standing by his car, looking at the damaged window.
“No,” William answered, a bit too quickly, “I’ll be alright.”
Professor Wittman pondered William for a moment, “William? If you don’t mind my asking, why were you sleeping in your car out here?”
William slumped into the front seat, wincing as he did from his bruised ribs. “I don’t have anywhere else to go,” he said.
“You and Elizabeth aren’t together?” he asked, shocked.
William shook his head, his eyes looking somewhere in the vicinity of his feet.
“Did this have something to do with the young lady Mr. Smith mentioned?” Professor Wittman asked, trying to make sense of the situation. He knew how much William adored Elizabeth; he’d spoken so lovingly of her, how they were planning on marrying, even. Though he wasn’t privy to their private affairs, he just couldn’t fathom what could hprecprecipitated this drastic change in William’s situation.
William’s head shot up, “God no! I don’t even know the young lady. I just saw her with those boys last Sunday in the canteen. I think I might have been staring at them, when her and the one who talked to you, the one called Tommy, were kissing.”
“I was only looking at her, because her blonde hair reminded me of...Elizabeth,” he said, eyes averted from those of the professor’s. “The other chap took offence to what he perceived was my staring; he said some things, and that was that. I left the canteen, and never saw any of them again, until this morning, that is,” he added, ruefully.
“And you’ve been sleeping in your car since then?”
William nodded, “Well, one night I did sleep in the library.”
The professor arched his eyebrows.
“Don’t ask.”
“I won’t,” he laughed softly, eliciting a small smile from William, as well.
“I don’t wish to pry, but in all seriousness, why didn’t you stay in a motel, or with a friend?”
William closed his eyes for a moment, realizing once more, how truly pathetic his situation was. “I didn’t have enough money to stay someplace. As for friends,” he said, sighing, “I don’t really have any.” Not anymore, he thought miserably to himself.
“What about that fellow that you mentioned before? The one who lived near you?”
William shook his head, a small, mirthless laugh escaping.
“Could you excuse me for a moment, William?”
William shrugged.
“Just stay there, I’ll be rigack,ack,” he said, walking off to his car. He picked up his cell phone from the passenger seat, and made a phone call.
Professor Wittman returned in a few minutes, having called both his wife, and the Lit department, asking if they would just assign someone to take over his class, and telling them where his notes were; it would have to do for now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
OCTOBER 4, 2009
SATURDAY
3:00AM
William turned away from the window to once again look around the apartment, that he was supposed to now consider home. The very apartment, which he had helped to clean a couple of days before him and Elizabeth, were supposed to leave on vacation.
That was the last full day he could claim innocence of the former life he’d lead. Innocence and ignorance not just about himself, but of the evil in the world. Up until that point, he’d only known of it intellectually, not intimately. Or so he’d thought. Dru had seen to it, to correct thittlittle omission, that tiny bit of truth, which Elizabeth had tried to hide from him.
Professor Wittman had brought him back to his house that morning. Despite William’s protestations that he hadn’t the money for rent, and didn’t want to take their charity, the professor and his wife Ingrid, had insisted that he stay in the apartment above the garage for as long as he liked.
“I don’t think you’re in any shape to argue right now, young man,” Ingrid had gently said to him.
Reluctantly, he’d agreed to stay for a couple of days, until he could come up with something.
At least for now he had a bed to sleep in, a place to feel safe.
Safe?
He laughed bitterly, at the thought. His hands clenching into fists as he thought of his meekness in the face of bullies both past and present, and over his being victimized by Dru. His rage and sorrow was further fueled, when he thought of the lies he’d been fed like so much pabulum by Elizabeth and the lot of them, pretending to be his friends.
Angrily, William kicked at a chair, sending it careening into the far wall of the living room before it toppled over. Holding himself in check, before further destroying something in the apartment that didn’t belong to him, he paced the rooms like a caged animal, before his emotions were finally spent.
Walking into the bedroom, he looked around at the bleak space. The only thing that remained was a mattress and box spring lying upinstinst the wall, and a broken blind on the window. He pulled the box spring over to the middle of the room, against the wall opposite the door, and set it down, then repeated the same with the mattress. He grimaced in disgust at the stains on the mattress, and turned it over. The other side wasn't much better, but it would have to do. He covered the dirty mattress with a set of clean sheets Ingrid had brought him earlier. She'd also brought him a blanket and pillows from the house. He put the blanket on the bed, then lay his own on top of that. The pillows he didn't use at all, preferring his own. A small lamp on the kitchen counter was put into service next to his bed, an upended carton, as a night table.
He picked up the chair he had kicked earlier, into the bedroom, and put his clothes on it.
"Crap," he said, hearing things falling out of his pants pockets, as he laid them over the chair's back. Squatting down, he picked up change, some odds and ends, and more importantly,
Elizabeth's necklace and ring, grateful, that in the midst of all that had happened to him that day, it hadn't fallen out of his pocket and been lost forever. Carefully, he set it on the night table box next to his bed, before lying down.
Unbidden tears sprung to his eyes, as he smelled the unmistakable scent of her. Since first laying his head on the pillows Elizabeth had brought him, he'd realized one of them was hers. He'd pondered how she could have gotten the two mixed up, as the pillowcases had been different. Yet, when he received them, they were the same matching ones that had been on his bed, before he’d left.
Had she washed both sets, and that’s how they got switched? Unlikely, as the smell of the lotion that she used before bedtime, (which was called pear, but smelled like honey) was still very much in evidence. If it was intentional, then why?
Too tired to think, William lay his head down on his own pillow, while burying his face into hers, trying in vain to find comfort in her lingering scent, where there was no longer any comfort to be had.
* The House of Night by Philip Freneau (1752-1832)
OCTOBER 4, 2009
SATURDAY
3:00AM
The week had been pure hell.
Buffy had gone back to work on Monday, with a short explanation to Mrs. Carpello, because she felt guilty not doing so, but she’d struggled constantly to keep her mind on the present. Thank goodness, the pace of work, and the children themselves by their very natures, kept her rooted in the here and now. Still, she would find herself glancing out the windows frequently to see if she might see him driving past. The mere glimpse of a black car would make her heart start to pound. Finally, she told the kids that she had a temporary problem with her eyes, just so she could close the blinds to the outside world.
On the last day of the week, Sally, her bright, intuitive, and sometimes blunt student she’d had in her classroom for the past couple of years had come up to her asking, “Why hasn’t Mr. W. been around yet this year at all?”
“I’ll tell you later,” she’d managed to say, her eyes tearing up, at the look of sincere interest and sympathy she was getting from Sally.
Other students, as well, had seemed to sense her pain in the way they would look at her from time to time, or pat her on the arm. Buffy felt immense guilt over the atmosphere of sadness she must unconsciously have been subjecting them to.
Right before the day ended, she called them over to the rug where they gathered for storiesand meetings, and spoke.
“This is a hard thing for me to tell you, as it’s very personal. And, I’m only going to speak of this once, and once only; is that clear?” she asked looking over at the children. She glanced at Lily, who nodded at her, reassuringly.
The children also nodded their heads, solemnly.
“However, I care about you, and I know you care about me, so I thought it only fair that I be honest about you. Some of you have asked me recently where Wam..am...Mr. W. has been, and why he’s not around anymore. I know that those of you that met him last year, were very fond of him,” she said smiling gently at them, before continuing.
“Sometimes adults have to...have their own paths to follow for a while, and that means that they have to do so, on their own for a while. In this case, Mr. W. and I aren’t together right now, though we still love each other very much. That’s why you aren’t going to see him around for a while. That’s all I wanted to say on the subject. Oh, and I apologize if I’ve seemed sad lately. I won’t lie to you and say that it’s easy, because it’s not, but I’ll get through it; everyday all of you help me with your smiling, beautiful faces. Now, let’s get ready to go home,” Buffy said, and dismissed her class.
kid kids all came up to her and hugged her extra hard as they left.
“Thanks for telling us,” Sally said on her way out.
Buffy nodded.
Katie echoed the same sentiments, as did all the others after her. There were also more than a handful of children who stopped to tell her about someone in their own families, who’d left home, and they got a big reassuring hug from Buffy; she knew all too well how it felt to have a parent leave.
Seemed someone was always leaving.
The last of the kids were gone, and Buffy walked back into the classroom, just as Lily was straightening up the shelves, and putting folders away.
“You did good,” she told her.
“Ts,” s,” Buffy said.
“If you ever want to talk...”
“Thanks,” Buffy had replied, and let Lily give her a hug as well.
Before she left, Mrs. Carpello asked her permission to let the other teachers know that her home situation had changed, since they too had noticed William’s absence. She told her that would be alright, wishing she had the energy, or the nerve to do it herself, but she just couldn’t.
The week had been positively exhausting, lonely evenings spent driving around looking for William, and not finding him, going home defeated; jumping when the phone would ring, and depressed when it didn’t. Each night was excruciatingly long, and mostly sleepless.
Now the weekend beckoned ahead of her, and she didn’t know what else she could do, other than what she’d already been doing.
She’d come home after school, changed into her jeans, and began her nightly prowl of the streets around Julian once more. Finally, she came home.
Exhausted, she’d fallen into bed, crying herself to sleep in his pillow, only to awaken from an old nightmare in the middle of the night. She’d gotten out of bed, and called Willow.
Willow, on the other side of the Atlantic, listened to the events that Buffy laid out for her from the past two weeks.
“I don’t get it, why did he up and leave, after telling Wallace to tell you he’d be there if you wanted to talk?” she asked Buffy.
“I think he looked in my car, and when he saw all his things, just thought I’d brought them to him, because I wanted him gone,” Buffy said, miserably.
“Why did you bring them, if you were going to try to talk him into coming home?”
“I brought them,” Buffy explained, “because I wasn’t sure if I could talk him into coming home, and because they were things he would need. I just hoped it would be a last resort, not a first choice. Guess I’ll never know that now. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought them...”
“Buffy, you didn’t do anything wrong! William made a choice, a bad one, when he left home without facing you first. And now he’s made another bad call, to leave Edna’s, without even knowing why you came, without facing you.”
“I know,” Buffy said quietly, “but it’s done now, isn’t it? He’s made his choice, good or bad.”
This wasn’t good, not at all. “What are you going to do? Do you need me to do anything?” ow aow asked.
Buffy didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Finally, she said, “Maybe you could be angry at him for me, I just don’t have it in me...”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The week had been pure hell.
After he’d hurriedly left Edna’s, he’d driven to San Marcos, and had slept in his car at the university. Although it was Sunday the next day, the library and student centers were still open. William used the facilities there to wash up as best he could, and changed his clothes in one of the stalls.
In the student center canteen, he bought a day old sandwich and a cup of soup out of one of the machines, and sat eating alone in the mostly empty room. He picked up a newspaper that had been abandoned, and tried to read it, but his mind kept wandering too much for him to take anything in. After rereading the same paragraph for the third time, without knowing what it was about, he closed the paper, and tossed it across the table from him.
“Hey,” he heard a soft female voice say nearby.
His head jerked up towards the sound, but the woman, standing at the doorway was looking at one of the young men seated about five tables away from him.
“Alison, you made it!” one of the boys exclaimed, going over to her, unabashedly enveloping her in a bear hug, and kissing her on the mouth for more than a few seconds.
“Tommy, stop!” Alison said, blushing at the catcalls, hoots, calls to. ‘Get a room,’ coming from the other guys from the table.
Alison saw William looking at her, and blushed, “Sorry ‘bout that, sir,” she said.
William looked away, embarrassed, feeling old and alone. Sir, she’d called him, as if he were an old, widowed uncle or something. If she had any idea of how long he’d lived, or what he’d been, she would run screaming from the room, he thought morosely.
He tried to go back to his stale sandwich, and barely warm soup, but was now distracted by the giggling coming from the table they had sat down at. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Alison sitting on Tommy’s lap, her slender body molded to his, her blonde hair falling down her back, as Tommy’s hand ran circles over her back, lower and lower...
“Hey, dude need a camera?” asked a boy with brown hair, who looked to be about 18 years old.
“Wh...what?” William asked, startled.
“I. Asked. Dude,” the boy repeated slowly, as if speaking to a simpleton, “if you needed a camera?”
William’s face reddened when he got the implication, “I’m...I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare,” he stammered, as he hurriedly picked up the remains of his meal and headed over to the garbage can.
The young man slowly walked over to him, blocking his way, “Well that’s good, see that you don’t anymore, understand me?”
Williaddeddded, as he quickly walked out of the canteen. He could hear their laughter as he hurried away. “Ralph! Why’d you have to go scare him?” he heard Alison ask.
“I just don’t like some other guy getting off on my best buddy’s girlfriend, okay?”
“I don’t think he was doing that...he probably just hasn’t had any in a while,” she said, laughing.
“Him? He probably hasn’t ever had any! Looks like a big loser to me!” Tommy’s extra loud voice floated down the hall after him.
Feeling humiliated like he used to, while bearing the brunt of the cruel taunts of his brother, or so-called friends, William hurried away as quickly as he could without actually running down the hall. Finding the nearest, single bathroom, he dove inside, locking it fast behind him, his heart hammering, his head pounding.
He turned away from the door, and walked over to the sink. He stared into the mirror for a long time. “What are you?” he hissed angrily at his image.
William heard the group that had been in the canteen walk by, laughing and talking, and his eyes took on a hard glint. His hands clenched, and it was all he could do to put his fist into the mirror in front of him.
After getting himself under control, he left the bathroom, making his way to the library. He breathed a sigh of relief, that the group from the canteen was nowhere in sight. He made his way to the top floor of the library to find a spot. There were two librarians at the third floor desk, one he recognized, and one he didn’t. William turned away from the desk not sure he wanted to run into someone who would recognize him.
He came to a group of chairs and couches facing the huge set of floor to ceiling windows, and sat down on the couch, after grabbing a nearby newspaper. It was the New York Times.
As he sat there staring at it, he was reminded of the first time he and Elizabeth had breakfast in bed, and read the New York and London times on a Sunday morning last summer. It had been a few days before his birthday, and she’d brought up the idea of them going to San Juan Capistrano in order to get him out of the house, so that Dawn and Clem could surprise him when they got back.
They had made having breakfast in bed, or brunch, as was the case most of the time, a ritual that they tried to do almost every Sunday. They would read the paper as they ate, just enjoying thosenoseness of each other’s company, trading sections of paper and bites of food, talking about this article, or that one. Eventually, they would make love with a sort of languidness, which would sometimes keep them in bed, into the early afternoon.
William closed his eyes against the pain he felt from the memories, and wondered what she was doing this Sunday morning. Would he ever be able to live a Sunday morning or look at a New York or London Times without remembering what he’d oncd wid with her?
He spent the rest of the day in the library, until 6:00pm, when he heard the announcement over the intercom that they were getting ready to close up. Depressed about spending another night in his car, he gloomily gathered up his things, and made his way towards the exit. On the way, he stopped to use the bathroom facilities one last time; it would be a long night without simple creature comforts.
A few minutes later, one of the librarians came in to make sure the bathrooms were vacated. Not checking to see around the partition between the door and the last stall that he was occupying, she turned off the light. William was about to yell out, but then a thought came to him. What if he just stayed in the library all night?
He sat there in the dark for a long time. Finally, he rose, and slowly groped his way around the room, until he came to the door.
The library’s soft evening floodlights were the only ones on now, but he could still see fairly well.
He spent the next few hours walking around the library looking at the various collections of books. He found a whole section of poetry, and took a few of them to the nearest table under one of the soft lights.
Like him, romantic at heart, the ones he remembered and loved mostmost were of that nature. The poems he’d cherished and read, even those he tried in vain to write as a young man, had been the yearnings for those things he’d felt he hn hin his heart to give a woman. In the past year, those words of deep love and wonder had finally come to fruition for him. It pained him to see them now, still his lips moved, as he read the familiar verses he’d memorized so many s ags ago.
In his mind’s eye, he could see the dark green covers of his own collection of poetry books, the pages well worn from repeated readings. Yet, there had been one, by a lesser-known author, whose verses had so puzzled and troubled him, they’d drawn him back again and again, as if they’d been trying to tell him something.
*The House of Night
Trembling I write my dream, and recollect
A fearful vision at the midnight hour;
So late, Death o'er me spread his sable wings,
Painted with fancies of malignant power!
Let others draw from smiling skies their theme,
And tell of climes that boast unfading light,
I draw a darker scene, replete with gloom,
I sing the horrors of the House of Night.
Stranger, believe the truth experience tells,
Poetic dreams are of a finer cast
Than those which o'er the sober brain diffused,
Are but a repetition of some action past.
Fancy, I own thy power-when sunk in sleep
Thou play'st thy wild delusive part so well
You lift me into immortality,
Depict new heavens, or draw the scenes of hell.
By some sad means, when Reason holds no sway,
Lonely I roved at midnight o'er a plain
Where murmuring streams and mingling rivers flow,
Far to their springs, or seek the sea again.
Sweet vernal May! though then thy woods in bloom
Flourished, yet nought of this could Fancy see,
No wild pinks blessed the meads, no green the fields,
And naked seemed to stand each lifeless tree. . . .
He shuddered as he finished reading the poem; the words now chilling in context to what he knew about his past. Is that why he had been d to to the poem, because of the darkness it so eloquently evoked in it’s troubling passages? Speaking to him of unknown horrors that he would soon become part?
Is that what Dru had done to him? Shown him the malignant power of the never dying, the undead? She’d shown him scenes from hell; that was for certain!
William put the books back on the shelves. Walking back to the windows, he gazed out, his lone reflection his only company, as he looked towards the dark hills, in the direction of home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He’d fallen asleep on the couch, and just barely managed to escape detection the next morning, only waking when he heard the library open for the day. Luckily, the library quickly filled with students, so his having squatted for the night went unnoticed.
For the next few days, he spent most of his time driving around to nearby towns, and hanging around their local libraries and parks; both being free, and both having washroom facilities. Although he had a little more than $100 in his wallet, when Elizabeth had brought it to him, he now only had around $60, after having given Wallace $40, plus what it cost him in gas. He’d also bought a small Styrofoam cooler, which he could keep some food in, so he didn’t have to eat out every day. He also wasn’t in the mood for the company of strangers much these days.
He considered spending another night in the library, but fear of getting caught kept him from doing that. Instead, he slept in the backseat of his car in the university parking lot; each night moving his car to a different spot, between near the campus dorms and the schools, hoping the campus police wouldn’t ask him why he was there.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
OCTOBER 3, 2009
FRIDAY
7:30AM
Tommy squealed into the parking lot, parking haphazardly between two spots.
“That’s some messed up parking!” Ralph said.
“Dude, I’m barely walking!” Tommy said, as he staggered away from the car. “Man, I can’t believe I got classes in an hour, I am so wasted! Fuck!”
“Blow it off!”
“Can’t, missed too many already, and Wittman said if I missed anymore, he’d fail me for the semester. Fucker! My dad said he’d make me come home and work on the farm, if I flunked anymore courses. Fuck!”
“Better drink a lot of black coffee then,” Ralph said, grinning.
“Yeah, that’nna nna help!”
Ralph’s eye caught sight of the DeSoto parked off by itself at the end of the row. “Cool old car, who do you think that belongs to?”
“I dunno, never saw it before.”
Ralph and Tommy walked up to car and were admiring it, when they noticed someone asleep in the backseat.
“Who is that? He looks familiar,” Tommy said.
“It’s that asshole from the canteen,” Ralph answered, as William stirred in his sleep.
“What the fuck is he doing here?”
“Maybe he’s stalking us, or maybe he’s stalking Alison!”
“Hey you little fucker! Wake up!” Tommy yelled, banging on the to the the car.
“Wh...?” William’s eyes flew open, heart pounding, as he saw the angry faces of Tommy and Ralph, looking in at him. “What do you want?” he managed to say.
“What do we want Tommy?” Ralph asked.
“I don’t know, what do we want?” Tommy repeated.
“We want to know whe fue fuck you’re in our parking lot, and why you’re stalking Alison?”
William managed to sit up, pushing the blanket off of himself, “Who’s Alison? I don’t even know anybody by that name, and I’m certainly not stalking anyone! I was just...sleeping.”
“I was just sleeping, I don’t know any Alison, I wasn’t stalking anyone,” Ralph mocked.
Ralph looked over at Tommy, “Maybe he wasn’t stalking Alison, maybe it was you he was staring at the other day.”
“The fuck?”
“Yeah, remember when we thought he was getting off on watching Alison? Maybe it was you he was getting off on; maybe he’s a queer! Maybe he’s stalking you!”
Tommy’s face turned beat red, “Get the fuck out of the car!” he yelled through the window.
William shook his head.
“Faggot!” Tommy yelled, bringing his fist down on the top of the roof of the car again.
“I’m not a...and I wasn’t stalking anyone, I was just sleeping,” William stammered.
“Why were you sleeping in your car? HERE?”
William just shook his head, looking down.
“Your boyfriend kick you out?”
Ralph spotted a large piece of broken cement, and picked it up, handing it to Tommy with a nod.
Tommy held up the piece of cement, showing it to William, “Either you get out of the fucking car, or we’re coming in!”
William looked around at something he could use to defend himself, but there was nothing within reach.
“Now, asshole!” Tommy yelled, smashing the piece of cement into the window nearest William, not hard enough to break it, but causing a spider web of cracks to appear.
“Okay, okay,” William said, as he unlocked the door, and opened it with a feeling of helplessness that made him ashamed.
Rough hands, pulled him out, and threw him against the car, “Talk, why are you out camped out in our dorm’s parking lot?”
William looked at the two men. Both were probably almost ten years younger, taller, stronger, and more athletically built than him. In his mind’s eye, he could almost envision them in another century, the type that always made sport of him. Not physically, once he was older, but the results were nearly the same, his shame and humiliation; and to the victors, went the spoils.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
7:35AM
Professor Wittman turned into the campus, taking a shortcut behind the student housing. He was earlier than usual today, but he had to give his lesson plans to one of his colleagues, who had agreed to take over his morning classes. He glanced down at his watch. Just barely enough time to write them up, then pick up his wife for her doctor’s appointment at Scripps Medical Center in La Jolla.
As he made a right turn to cut through the parking lot of Harrington House, he saw a couple of men hitting another, smaller man, who had just crumpled onto the ground. He pulled his car up, and jumped out, grabbing a small retractable club he kept with him ever since he and his wife were mugged a couple of years ago.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Okay, talk faggot, before we get a little rough!” Tommy said, his breath reeking of alcohol.
“Maybe he likes it a little rough,” Ralph sneered from the other side, “isn’t that how you faggots like it?”
“I’m not a...I’m not,” he said, eyes downcast. Why should he tell them why he was there? What difference could it make to offer up any explanation?
“Well?” Ralph demanded, his face only inches away from his.
William looked up bravely, “I’m not giving you anything, explanation, or otherwise.”
The first punch to the stomach knocked the wind out of William, and he doubled up, his hands automatically going to his middle, at the same time Tommy stepped forward, punching William in the face, knocking William back against the car. He slumped to the ground, as they continued to hit and kick him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Stop that! Get off him, this instant!” Professor Wittman yelled, brandishing the club to use if necessary.
The two men stopped for a moment, ready to ignore the intruder, or give him a beating as well, when they recognized the professor.
“William! Sweet Jesus, are you alright?” Professor Wittman pushed forward, kneeling down by William and helping him into a sitting position.
“Mr. Smith, Mr. Hauer, what were you doing to him?” Professor Wittman demanded, recognizing them as well.
“This asshole was out here stalking Tommy’s girlfriend,” Ralph answered, breathing heavily.
“I highly doubt that,” Professor Wittman said, disgust in his voice, as he turned back to William.
“What happened?” he asked softly, noticing not only the cuts and bruises William had just suffered, but his general disheveled appearance, too.
“Ask him why he’s sleeping out here in his car, in front of Alison’s dorm then?” Tommy interrupted before William could say anything.
Professor Wittman looked at William quizzically, but before he could ask him anything, the campus police pulled up, sirens blaring, followed by an ambulance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
William reluctantly answered the questions of the campus police, while a medic checked out his face and ribs. A gash over his left eyebrow was attended to, and the bleeding stopped by an application of liquid stitches. He declined going to the campus clinic or nearby hospital.
Although he refused to press charges against Tommy and Ralph, the police filed them on his behalf. William just wanted the whole humiliating nightmare to be over.
Before being taken to the campus police station, Tommy asked the officer if he could talk to the professor for moment.
“Make it quick,” the officer warned.
“Um...Professor Wittman?”
Professor Wittman was standing by William when he heard his name. He turned around, “What is it Mr. Smith?”
“I was wondering if I could possibly ask you to not count me absent this morning, er...due to the circumstances.”
“Let me get this right; you want me to excuse your absence from my class because you started an altercation with an innocent man?” Professor Wittman said, disbelieving.
“He’s not so innocent,” Tommy said, defiantly.
“Unbelievable,” he said, looking over at William. “No Mr. Smith, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“That’s not fair! You know I would’ve been in class, if I didn’t have to go down to the station!”
“Fair? You have the audacity to talk about fair...even if that were so; I would’ve askeu tou to leave my classroom the moment you walked in smelling like a brewery. I’m afraid you made your bed, and now you have to lie in it.”
“You’re out of the class, Mr. Smith, both you and Mr. Hauer. Feel free, however, to take it again next semester. Preferably with another professor,” he said, and with that, turned back towards William.
“You’ll regret that,” Tommy said softly, under his breath.
“That’s enough,” the officer said, grabbing Tommy’s arm.
Hen tun turned to the professor; “Did he just threaten you? Because if he did, I can add that to the charges of harassment, assault, public drunkenness, and property damage, as well.”
Professor Wittman shook his head, “Just get him out of here; get them both out of here.”
The small crowd, which had gathered when the police and ambulance had arrived, started to disperse by the time they pulled away with the two boys. Do yDo you want me to call Elizabeth for you?” Professor Wittman gently asked William, who was now standing by his car, looking at the damaged window.
“No,” William answered, a bit too quickly, “I’ll be alright.”
Professor Wittman pondered William for a moment, “William? If you don’t mind my asking, why were you sleeping in your car out here?”
William slumped into the front seat, wincing as he did from his bruised ribs. “I don’t have anywhere else to go,” he said.
“You and Elizabeth aren’t together?” he asked, shocked.
William shook his head, his eyes looking somewhere in the vicinity of his feet.
“Did this have something to do with the young lady Mr. Smith mentioned?” Professor Wittman asked, trying to make sense of the situation. He knew how much William adored Elizabeth; he’d spoken so lovingly of her, how they were planning on marrying, even. Though he wasn’t privy to their private affairs, he just couldn’t fathom what could hprecprecipitated this drastic change in William’s situation.
William’s head shot up, “God no! I don’t even know the young lady. I just saw her with those boys last Sunday in the canteen. I think I might have been staring at them, when her and the one who talked to you, the one called Tommy, were kissing.”
“I was only looking at her, because her blonde hair reminded me of...Elizabeth,” he said, eyes averted from those of the professor’s. “The other chap took offence to what he perceived was my staring; he said some things, and that was that. I left the canteen, and never saw any of them again, until this morning, that is,” he added, ruefully.
“And you’ve been sleeping in your car since then?”
William nodded, “Well, one night I did sleep in the library.”
The professor arched his eyebrows.
“Don’t ask.”
“I won’t,” he laughed softly, eliciting a small smile from William, as well.
“I don’t wish to pry, but in all seriousness, why didn’t you stay in a motel, or with a friend?”
William closed his eyes for a moment, realizing once more, how truly pathetic his situation was. “I didn’t have enough money to stay someplace. As for friends,” he said, sighing, “I don’t really have any.” Not anymore, he thought miserably to himself.
“What about that fellow that you mentioned before? The one who lived near you?”
William shook his head, a small, mirthless laugh escaping.
“Could you excuse me for a moment, William?”
William shrugged.
“Just stay there, I’ll be rigack,ack,” he said, walking off to his car. He picked up his cell phone from the passenger seat, and made a phone call.
Professor Wittman returned in a few minutes, having called both his wife, and the Lit department, asking if they would just assign someone to take over his class, and telling them where his notes were; it would have to do for now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
OCTOBER 4, 2009
SATURDAY
3:00AM
William turned away from the window to once again look around the apartment, that he was supposed to now consider home. The very apartment, which he had helped to clean a couple of days before him and Elizabeth, were supposed to leave on vacation.
That was the last full day he could claim innocence of the former life he’d lead. Innocence and ignorance not just about himself, but of the evil in the world. Up until that point, he’d only known of it intellectually, not intimately. Or so he’d thought. Dru had seen to it, to correct thittlittle omission, that tiny bit of truth, which Elizabeth had tried to hide from him.
Professor Wittman had brought him back to his house that morning. Despite William’s protestations that he hadn’t the money for rent, and didn’t want to take their charity, the professor and his wife Ingrid, had insisted that he stay in the apartment above the garage for as long as he liked.
“I don’t think you’re in any shape to argue right now, young man,” Ingrid had gently said to him.
Reluctantly, he’d agreed to stay for a couple of days, until he could come up with something.
At least for now he had a bed to sleep in, a place to feel safe.
Safe?
He laughed bitterly, at the thought. His hands clenching into fists as he thought of his meekness in the face of bullies both past and present, and over his being victimized by Dru. His rage and sorrow was further fueled, when he thought of the lies he’d been fed like so much pabulum by Elizabeth and the lot of them, pretending to be his friends.
Angrily, William kicked at a chair, sending it careening into the far wall of the living room before it toppled over. Holding himself in check, before further destroying something in the apartment that didn’t belong to him, he paced the rooms like a caged animal, before his emotions were finally spent.
Walking into the bedroom, he looked around at the bleak space. The only thing that remained was a mattress and box spring lying upinstinst the wall, and a broken blind on the window. He pulled the box spring over to the middle of the room, against the wall opposite the door, and set it down, then repeated the same with the mattress. He grimaced in disgust at the stains on the mattress, and turned it over. The other side wasn't much better, but it would have to do. He covered the dirty mattress with a set of clean sheets Ingrid had brought him earlier. She'd also brought him a blanket and pillows from the house. He put the blanket on the bed, then lay his own on top of that. The pillows he didn't use at all, preferring his own. A small lamp on the kitchen counter was put into service next to his bed, an upended carton, as a night table.
He picked up the chair he had kicked earlier, into the bedroom, and put his clothes on it.
"Crap," he said, hearing things falling out of his pants pockets, as he laid them over the chair's back. Squatting down, he picked up change, some odds and ends, and more importantly,
Elizabeth's necklace and ring, grateful, that in the midst of all that had happened to him that day, it hadn't fallen out of his pocket and been lost forever. Carefully, he set it on the night table box next to his bed, before lying down.
Unbidden tears sprung to his eyes, as he smelled the unmistakable scent of her. Since first laying his head on the pillows Elizabeth had brought him, he'd realized one of them was hers. He'd pondered how she could have gotten the two mixed up, as the pillowcases had been different. Yet, when he received them, they were the same matching ones that had been on his bed, before he’d left.
Had she washed both sets, and that’s how they got switched? Unlikely, as the smell of the lotion that she used before bedtime, (which was called pear, but smelled like honey) was still very much in evidence. If it was intentional, then why?
Too tired to think, William lay his head down on his own pillow, while burying his face into hers, trying in vain to find comfort in her lingering scent, where there was no longer any comfort to be had.
* The House of Night by Philip Freneau (1752-1832)