With my increasingly nonessential husband at his customary Friday night poker party and my baby girl tucked in for the night, I was snapping my fingers to the Everly Brothers as I danced into the end of my work week.
 

Clad in a Jacquard print towel, I swiveled and swayed through the bedroom into the bathroom where I flipped on the light so I could properly appraise myself in the harsh bathroom mirror. 
 

Putting the dance routine on hiatus, I monkeyed around with different styling techniques for my ratted and lacquered black hair with its premature silver strands.  Coming up with nothing alluring, I settled on a foolproof ponytail as the style for this evening’s gaity. Running my fingers through my hair until its stiffness was loosened; I gathered it together at the back of my head and stuffed it all into a rubber band.

Reviving my jitterbug for the trip from the bathroom to the bedroom where my costume was laid out for the evening, I dropped the towel on the bed and picked up the pajama top.  In no time I was all dolled up in the best of the hideous lot of pajamas my mother-in-law made for me, after she stumbled upon closeout yardage at a crazy days’ sale. Thankfully they were just as comfortable as they were ugly.

I’d worn my single strand of “genuine imitation” pearls to work and decided to leave those on.  They seemed to lend just the right touch of sophistication to the homespun pajamas.  Getting a glance of myself in the full length mirror I was quite sure that I would be a colorful old lady with the great start I already had.

Softly humming, I flicked off the bedroom radio before jiving down the hall from the bedroom to the kitchen where I gathered up my party snack of dill dip and potato chips and popped open a cold can of beer.  Setting those on the coffee table where they would be within reach I sprawled on the fashionable nubby gold and brown striped couch ready to be entertained by the Tonight Show.

I giggled along with the studio audience as Johnny and Carol Burnett play-acted a sketch together.  Johnny had forgotten most of his lines and every time Carol spoke her part Johnny would put on his smirky face and ad lib some hilarious response. Carol, not to be outdone, would shoot back her own retort and pretty soon both Johnny and Carol were cracking up and just couldn’t continue.  I was laughing so hard my stomach hurt. 

Abruptly my attention was snapped away from the TV as I thought I heard a faint noise over the din of the TV and my guffawing.

Cocking my head I asked out loud, “What was that?”

Propping myself up on my elbow and furrowing my brow in bewilderment I wondered what had caused my merrymaking with Johnny and Carol to come to such a sudden stop.  No longer spellbound by the show, I was being hounded by some nagging invasion of my peace and solitude.  Something I couldn’t identify yanked me away from the television and shoved me towards something alien that somehow threatened me.

Spawning a full-blown attack of the willies, I sat straight up and anxiously looked around to see if, without my knowing it, the boogieman had sneaked into the room.  There was no boogieman. Next I turned the volume on the television set way down and intently listened for more strange sounds, but there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

Ticking off a list of possible causes for my apprehension my daughter, Lauren, topped the list. Thinking about Lauren’s safety propelled me into action. I flew off the couch and trotted down the hall to Lauren’s bedroom mindless of staying in the shadows.

The hall light was on as it always was as long as someone was up.  Reaching Lauren’s room I pushed open the door that was already ajar. Softly illuminated by the hall light, my one year-old daughter was sleeping in her usual position, on her back with her arms flopped overhead.  Smiling I tiptoed into the room to stand by the crib for a minute just admiring the wonder of my baby girl.  Kissing my fingers, I gently touched her cheek and whispered, “I love you, baby”. Satisfied that Lauren was safely in the Land of Nod, I resumed my sub rosa status silently tiptoeing back down the hall towards the television. .

On the prowl for the invader of my harmony, I paused in the hallway outside the living room and peeked in.  An overwhelming urge to enter the room overcame me. As if being guided by an invisible hand, I was drawn to the draped window looking out on our backyard and the creek separating our house from the trailer park across the way.  Flattening myself against the wall in the dark living room I made a peep hole in the corner of the drapes and inconspicuously stared at the trailer court across the creek lit up by its powerful yard lights.  With my gaze steadfastly fixed on the trailer court the uneasy feeling turned to panic.  Something was definitely wrong and it was out there.    

Pulling myself away from the window I darted into the family room to grab my cigarettes. Working one out of the pack, I lit it and took a long draw before clutching the burning cigarette and an ashtray swiped from the coffee table and scurrying back into the dark living room.  Once more, I hid in the shadows peering through the peephole in the drapes but this time I smoked with a shaky hand while I inspected the scene for anything unusual.  There was nothing.  It was a quiet, empty, peaceful view of our backyard, the creek and the trailer park nestled on the other side of the creek.

“See there is nothing out there so what are you afraid of?” I asked myself out loud.  My unsettling answer came from a thought that said, “There is something out there. You just can’t see it.”  

Sucking on the cigarette until it was just a butt; I stubbed it out in the ashtray, tiptoed into the kitchen, looked up the telephone number and dialed the phone.

“Hello”.

“Hi, Brian, it’s Paige.  Is my husband around?”

I tried to sound as upbeat, cheerful and nonchalant as possible so as to hide my embarrassment from Brian.  No one wants to be the hysterical wife pleading with her husband to come home to protect her from ghosts and goblins and things that go bump in the night.  But there I was doing exactly that.  

I could hear the laughter and voices in the background as Brian responded, “Sure, Paige, I’ll get him.”

The phone was laid down and I heard Brian shout, “It’s Paige, James, checking to see if you are really at the every-Friday-night poker party.”

All of the guys joined in the razz and loud catcalls accompanied the chant “James is in trouble! “.  

“Hey, what’s going on?”  My husband picked up the phone, acknowledging me in his most irritated tone of voice

“Something.  I’m not positively sure what but you need to come home.” I spoke softly and cupped my hand around the phone’s mouthpiece as if I was telling a secret not to be overheard by the evil that was lurking close by. 

“Are you kidding?”  James’ tone had changed from irritated to full blown annoyed.

“No, I’m not.  Something is wrong and you need to come home.” I actually stomped my foot when I said that.

He could tell from the change in the tone of my voice that I wasn’t joking around and reassuringly, although reluctantly, said “I’m on my way”.

I scrunched up in the corner of the sofa smoking and swinging my right leg that I crossed over my left leg until he got home. 

“Hey, Paige, what is it?” James solicitously asked as he came into the family room via the door from the garage where he had stowed the car for the night.

“I think the East Area Rapist is very close by.”

The rapist had been active in our area for months and the entire population was on edge waiting for his next attack which, historically, would transpire mere days after his last attack.  The police had no solid clues at all.  Women were terrified and I had even arranged for a self–defense class to be given at work.  I learned how to use my elbows, knees, feet, and teeth as weapons and was firm in the understanding that you gained the upper hand once you’d gouged out your assailant’s eyes.   

After my bold prophesy, my husband spent a few seconds quizzically looking at me before he dramatically marched through the family room, flipped on the backyard floodlights, unlocked the patio doors and, in perfect John Wayne mimicry, swept through the doors into the backyard.  I didn’t make the least effort to act interested in his heroics as I had seen the display before and they were purely and simply showboating.   My husband was much more the class clown than the jock.

That was exactly the reason why I had been head over heels in love with him.  He was a hoot.  He provided day in and day out laugh out loud entertainment.  It was only later that I realized that some parts of life need more attention than a slapstick routine, and that a comedy act was the sum and substance of  the resources my husband could provide in dealing with any issue at all. His John Wayne imitation was designed to lighten the mood not to actually protect his wife.

Returning from his investigation of the backyard with a flourish he announced that the all clear had been sounded and he was heading for bed with a baseball bat at the ready.  I managed a weak smile and said I was going to have a stiff drink myself.  He certified drinking to be about as effective at handling the heebie-jeebies as anything else, and with that, he gave me a little toodle-oo as he headed off to bed.

My fear vanished as I had anticipated it would once James was home.  To date the East Area Rapist only struck in homes solely occupied by women.  I had a complete sense of security knowing that I had a man in the house even though that man was sound asleep. 

When the test pattern came on the TV I realized that certainly was as clear a signal as I would get that it was time to go to bed.  Tucked in but wide awake, I tossed and turned and tried to make the pillow more comfortable with no success.  My runaway thoughts refused to be tamped as I listened to my husband peacefully snore for the remainder of the night.  

 

                                                           ************

 

On this, the Saturday afternoon following my sleepless night, I’m a stumble bum.  Doing as little as possible so there is less chance of hurting myself, I am doing that dab outside.  I had high hopes for the fresh air slapping some life into me but so far no go.

 “Paige!” “Paige!” James has returned from his trip to the neighborhood hardware store. 

“I’m out here on the patio.”  I hollered back.

James blasted through the patio screen door and stopped stock still. Looking up from planting a marigold in a pot, I stopped what I was doing when I spotted his somber frowning face.

Blurting out¸ “He hit at 4:00 o’clock this morning in the trailer park.” James nodded at the trailer park across our creek.  “A mother and a daughter.”

The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up and my stomach started flipping.  I glanced at Lauren in her playpen next to me.  She was no longer cooing to her teddy bear but was now a frightened little girl with a quivering lip as she paid strict attention to her parents’ jitters.

Cupping Lauren’s face in my hands I reassured her, “It’s okay, honey.  It’s okay.”

My reassurances were rewarded with a wan smile and the disappearance of the quivering lip allowing me to turn my attention back to my glum husband.  James was quick to add, “You were certainly on his wave length last night.  That’s kinda’ freaky.”

Raising my eyebrows I offered that I thought it was extremely freaky.  I squeezed my eyes shut trying to make total blackness replace the vision of the rapist in the trailer court. Reopening my eyes, I shook my head as I looked at James, He let out a sigh, turned and went back into the house.

Left alone I wondered how I was able to figure out last night that not only was danger lurking, but that danger was the East Area Rapist?  It startled me when I realized that he was probably already in the trailer park biding his time as I was looking out the window.  Although I couldn’t see him I wondered if, even as well as I was hidden, he could see me.   This thought made my skin crawl. 

“Come on, Lauren, let’s go inside and find something to eat.  I’m hungry.”

As I lifted her out of the playpen I glanced over my shoulder at the trailer court across the creek. It looked just like it had last night, quiet, empty and peaceful. I forced my thoughts to turn to peanut butter and jelly sandwiches rather than a rapist in a trailer park only a creek and a rickety fence away.