Rainstorm

After the woman disappeared through the casement window like a phantom from a bad nightmare, Rain slowly threaded her way through stacks of boxes and over to the couch on which the perfect stranger had supposedly spent the night. She studied it intently, but the old floral-patterned couch bore no hint that anybody had slept on it recently. Gingerly, she stepped forward and gently placed a hand upon the couch as if it might hold some telltale clue. But the couch felt like an ordinary fabric couch. She stepped back and inspected the area around the couch. Nothing unusual jumped out at her there, either. You’d never know the nutjob had been in the house, save for any possible footprints in the dirt outside the window and fingerprints. Then again, fingerprints weren’t likely. Generally an observant person—even in times of duress—Rain had noted that the woman had been wearing snug, silk-like black gloves. Rain slumped down upon the couch and placed her face in her hands. Strange that the woman hadn’t been afraid to show her face or to risk a strand of hair being left behind that would hold her DNA, but was afraid of leaving prints. Was the reason she had shown her face that she was planning on eventually killing her? The more she thought about it, the more she suspected the woman’s DNA profile wasn’t on record—but her prints probably were. If you’d never been in trouble with the law before or had worked a job in which you were mandated to submit fingerprints, then why would you worry as much about leaving prints behind if you thought you were clever enough not to get caught in the end? But just where was “the end”? Who was this woman, and why had she chosen her? Why did she need a place to sleep so badly, and what was she doing during the daytime? So many questions ran through Rain’s mind that her brain almost felt like it would explode with questions, confusion, fear, and indecision. She had no way to know just how serious the woman might be with her threats in order to know how to proceed from there. There was certainly no reason to trust the word of a madwoman who broke into someone’s house—but what alternative did she really have? If there was any chance there was a slight grain of truth to the threats, then why jeopardize Troy’s life? To tell or not to tell… that was the question she faced right now. But no matter how many times Rain thought of why she should tell versus why she should not, she was just as torn as far as what to do. It was the toughest decision she had ever made in her life and probably ever would make—assuming she survived whatever was to come. She decided in the end that her husband’s safety was much more important than a woman who insisted on using their presently unused couch, even if she had to succumb to her sexually until this thing played out. Just the thought of the woman’s hands on her made her want to cringe. Rain had been with women before meeting and marrying her husband nearly a decade ago. The gender wasn’t the issue. The fact that she was committed to her husband was the issue—and so was the fact that she wasn’t in the habit of having sex with crazy people who broke into her house, or with people she wasn’t attracted to. She had never been forced, threatened, or bribed into having sexual relations before, so she genuinely feared just what this one might do. She imagined her to be less than gentle. Just how brutal might she be? Rain wondered. And how long would this so-called “arrangement” go on? Despite the range of emotions Rain felt and the questions running rampant through her mind, she also felt too numb to cry. It was as if she were too stunned to shed any tears. Her mind still couldn’t believe what she had seen and heard. She sat on the couch for what seemed like an eternity, gently hugging herself and slowly rocking back and forth, lost in deep thought and fear. Suddenly, she realized she hadn’t yet started the laundry she’d planned on doing that morning. “Either pull it together and start acting like nothing’s wrong, or run upstairs and call the cops,” she commanded herself. Deciding one last time that Troy’s safety was more important, she took a deep breath and rose on shaky legs. Mechanically, she separated the whites from the colors and started the first load washing. She ascended the basement stairs. Her legs felt weak as hell. Simone greeted her at the top of the stairs, and for the first time, Rain found herself glad that the feline had no interest in going down into the basement. She went out into the cool, windy morning and ambled over to the side of the house from which the woman had exited. Smart side, too—it faced the woods, so none of the neighbors would have seen her coming or going. She approached the window, partially hidden behind the shrubbery, and looked for any clues or evidence left behind. She didn’t see anything suspicious. Gravel hugged the sides of the house instead of dirt, and that would make it harder to leave any footprints. Her frightened blue eyes swept from the window, across the expanse of grass, and into the woods. She assumed the woman had come and gone from there. If you went through the trees, you would end up on other streets much like her own. The woods weren’t very thick, and they didn’t stretch very far from what she’d seen on satellite images. She guessed the woman was parking her car on one of those streets. Maybe she even lived around here. The possibilities were endless. Rain racked her brain trying to think of whether or not she could be someone Troy had dealt with at one time or another at work. She hadn’t recognized her from anywhere, but the woman had to have gotten her information from somewhere. How else would she have known who lived in the house and when Rain would be home alone? The brisk wind penetrated her robe, and she shivered with the chill that came with it. She gazed around her, suddenly feeling very exposed. Although she knew she wasn’t any safer inside, she headed for the warmth of the indoors anyway. She dressed in sweats and went out for her morning run. It was all she could do to keep from throwing herself down in the middle of the street and screaming with the sheer helplessness she felt at the moment. She had hoped running would ease her mind enough to think of a safe and simple way out of the situation at hand, but it hadn’t. At least it would give her energy, make her stronger, and help keep her from gaining any more weight since she had hypothyroidism. Rain returned to the house and pulled the small, old cell phone she now only used to play music when running from the front of her purple sports bra. She placed it on the kitchen counter and, hoping she was still alone in the house, dashed upstairs for a quick shower. While she knew she was cleaner when she stepped out of the shower ten minutes later, it didn’t leave her feeling refreshed or rejuvenated at all. She spent the better part of the day online researching recent crimes in her area and looking at mug shots, but was unable to find anything that resembled the woman. Rain was constantly glancing at the clock. She couldn’t wait for her husband to return. Even though she had decided not to mention the woman to him, she knew she would feel much safer with him around. The day seemed to stretch on forever. Then finally, she heard the sound of the door opening downstairs. She was ready to lurch out of her chair and down the stairs into his waiting arms. But what if it wasn’t him? Rain froze just a few inches above the seat of her chair. Then she heard his voice and let out a huge whoosh of air as relief coursed through her. Willing her heartbeat to calm down, she descended the stairs and put on the act of her life—or so she hoped it was her best performance ever, anyway. “Hi, hun.” She forced a smile as she approached her tall, redheaded husband with the adorable spray of freckles he’d always hated so much. He always said they might be cute on little girls, but not on grown men. Troy was forty-five, a bit heavy, but definitely the center of her universe. She was glad they’d never had kids. More time to themselves, and well, supposedly less trouble—if you didn’t count a crazy woman breaking into your house and demanding a couch and sex. He smiled his award-winning smile, gray-green eyes twinkling. “Hey, how was your day?” “Uneventful.” What a fucking lie. But apparently, she’d been convincing enough, or else he would have questioned her further. “Oh, shit! Dinner. I’m so sorry! I got so caught up in my work that I totally forgot to make anything.” “That’s okay,” said Troy. “I can throw in something microwavable. I’m not really that hungry today anyway.” “You sure? ’Cause I can whip something up fast enough.” “I know you can, hun, but I’m fine.” Rain watched as he pulled a box from the freezer and tore it open. She didn’t want to be too close to him so as not to give away the fact that anything was wrong, but she didn’t want to appear to be avoiding him, either. “How was work?” “The same as always,” he said as he placed his food on a plate and put it in the microwave. After they both had a bite to eat, the afternoon melted into the evening, and although she did indeed feel a degree safer with Troy in the house, she was still glancing at the clock on a regular basis, dreading the moment it struck midnight.