Story #98 - Homecoming

Homecoming

I glanced into the rear-view mirror before stepping out of the car, doing my best to push wiry hairs back into place and brush off the crusted dirt from my cheeks. The drive had been something out of a horror movie, with problems at every turn and issues on every straightaway.

It had started with a flat tire just after I left the city, and along a stretch of the highway coated in deep muck on both shoulders from a recent rainstorm. I'd spent the better part of an hour in the mud, getting myself thoroughly coated. Cars whizzed by, not one stopping to see if I was alright, or if I needed help as the clouds rolled in.

The truth was that I wouldn't have stopped if it had been someone else, but I felt put-upon nonetheless. The breakup had been bad enough; now I just needed to get out of town for a few days, and what do I get? A busted tire and a face full of mud.

Around the hundred mile mark, the car started overheating, something it had never done until that very moment. I'd had other clunkers that loved to do it, though, so I just took it slow and pulled over when I had to. My destination wasn't all that far away – or shouldn't have been, at typical highway speed – and I was determined to make it there before nightfall.

But despite my best efforts to keep my failing car grinding forward, I'd felt it losing power five miles back, and had pulled off into the first community I saw. The area was surprisingly attractive for a just-off-the-beaten-path kind of place, with tall houses and dark windows, along with fenced and gated yards that seemed as though they'd come out of a Gothic novel. With the clouds drifting down and a slow rain moving in, the whole scene was a bit surreal, but I didn't really have time to worry about it.

I needed help.

A few more swipes to my face and I gave up; I'd never been the most attractive guy, and the dirt was just smudging instead of actually moving anywhere useful. Being sincere and honest were my only options to procure help, simple things that had gotten me into – and out of – my previous relationship.

As soon as my feet hit the paved street I felt tension spike up my back. The neighborhood I'd landed in wasn't just quiet; it was silent, almost as though the world were holding its breath. For what, was the question, and just how bad would it be?

Though the houses all seemed well-maintained, only one on the block had a light on, and that only faintly in one of the upper rooms. I made quickly for its black-iron fence, but stopped as I got close enough to see the front yard of the place clearly.

How the fence was still standing, I wasn't entirely sure, as the bulk of it was rusted out and thin, bars and points looking like they would crumble at my touch. Sections of it were leaning forward and back from the straight line it had originally been, and the front gate hung open, its top hinge snapped.

The front yard of the place was no better, with patches of weedy grass the only green spots on the otherwise brown surface. No flowers grew, no trees bloomed and there was a fine white coating on everything in the yard, making it seem as though it hadn't seen the sun in years. The clouds had drawn in thickly, and a wind came up,leaving me no real choice but the move through the gate and head for the front door.

I pulled my phone from my pocket to check again; still no service. It had lost its signal five miles out of town and couldn't seem to find another. Betty had always given me a hard time about my “ancient” cellphone, but I honestly thought it would never matter.

The house was in no better shape than the yard around it, with peeling paint, hanging shutters and a general look of disrepair. Here and there parts of the foundation could be seen showing above low spots of grass, and cracks had begun to appear in its concrete surface. The place didn't have much longer to live, it seemed, but hopefully I would only be here for a few hours. Betty wouldn't be pleased at a call from me so soon after the end of it all, but she'd come get me if I were in trouble. I hoped.

There was no bell to be seen, so I pounded hard on the door, and in a moment I heard footsteps and a muffled yell.

“I'm coming!”

I steeled myself; a house like this would likely mean a similar owner, and I had to be as friendly and engaging as possible.

The young woman who answered the door engaged my interest immediately.

Curves in all the right places and smile that would make heads turn anywhere in the country, she was a vision in a cute t-shirt and yoga pants. My breath caught quickly as I looked down at her, and I struggled to keep my eyes where they should be. She was younger than I was, there was no doubt, but old enough she could have been the owner of the place. Maybe.

“Yes?” She said sweetly. There was no anger there, no irritation as being disturbed by the stranger on her doorstep.

“I...car. Broken,” I managed, and she smiled.

“Of course! Come in, you poor man, before you get soaked.” She opened to door and stepped back, and I stepped forward.

A palpable sense of dread washed over me, but I kept my eyes tight on her smile and stepped inside. “Thank you,” I said.

She waved me off with a dismissive gesture. “Slip off those wet shoes and I'll show you where the phone is. Flat tire?” Her voice was low and strong, sultry without being aggressive, and sexy as hell.

“Uh, yeah. And engine trouble. Not a good day.”

She frowned. “That's terrible! Come on, follow me.”

I followed her through the house; the inside was much the same as the outside, unattended and old. Tables needed dusting, furniture could use vacuuming and cobwebs hung in the corners. The only thing clean and youthful about the place was the woman in front of me, bouncing along as she headed for the phone. Maybe she was house-sitting for an older relative?

The phone was old, but still working, and I punched the number in quickly, before I thought the better of the call.

Of course, Betty wasn't home.

“Problem?” She was there as I hung up the phone, smile on her face.

“Yeah,” I sighed. “My ex-girlfriend is the reason I'm on the road, and the only person around I know, and she's not home.”

“Ex?” She said, reaching out a hand to touch my arm. “Aw, but you seem so sweet.”

She close before I knew it, and when I tried to pull back she locked her arms hard around my waist.

“Wait -” I started, but she sprung up onto her toes, and I acted without thinking.

Our lips met and I was flooded with a wealth of feelings, a storming wave of sensations that knocked my on my ass. I could feel my body going limp, my arms losing their grip and finally my legs giving out, and as I hit the floor I was sure I could see a form above me, looking down with a smile on its face. An old woman, wrinkled and knobby, in a cute t-shirt and yoga pants.

***

I look great, I've got admit. With rippling abs, tight biceps and a wide chest, I'm the best physical version of myself I've ever been. My face has moved along the spectrum to handsome from “interesting”, but it turns out looking in the mirror is about the best thing I've got going for me.

Sure, I can get to the front door, but I can't even open the thing, let alone step outside. I can't begin to guess at the history of this place, but I'm trapped, just like she was, waiting for a rainy day and a broken car to get me out of here.

Man, woman – I don't care. Just come knock on my door. I'm handsome, I'm friendly. You'll see.

- D