Walk With Me

©2000 Katherine Irving
All rights reserved.

Rain fell hard. Wind whipped the air like a slave master. Because the weather was horrible, it wasn't odd that a man would be dressed in a long coat. That would be acceptable - expected. What was not normal was the presence of the man.

"He must be soaked through. Wet to the bone." With her hip rested against the counter, cup of coffee steaming in her hand, Claire stared at him—a blurred shape through the kitchen window.

The man stood on the tree-lined embankment in the deadly drizzle, as if there was no storm. Heavy droplets pelted his face and head. Liquid beads collected on his eyelashes, then splashed onto his face when he blinked. Flattened hair, spread on his skull like an ink stain. Water dripped from his nose. Rain fell like tears onto the man's cheeks. And he stared at her.

Claire cuddled the coffee.

Walk with me.

He held his hand up waist high, rolling his fingers in and out. A slow, rhythmic, beckoning.

Walk with me.

Claire shook her head, 'No' and splashed coffee onto her fingers. "Ouch!"

"Now what's the matter?" Curtis' voice carried downstairs from the loft. Claire was already running her hand under a stream of cold water.

"I spilled my coffee. Burned my hand."

"Klutz."

"Well, thank-you, Mr. Compassion." After she patted her hand dry, she retrieved her cup.

"Do I need to call 911?"

"Knock it off, Curtis."

"Want me to run out and get you a tippy-cup?"

"Go away."

"Ah! To go away. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Claire dropped her head. "More than you know."

"I heard that."

"Good." Claire waited for a comment, but heard only the pattering of the computer keyboard. Curtis surfing the internet. Sounded like plastic rain.

Rain. She returned to the window. The man stood in the downpour and stared.

Walk with me.

His hands called to her. Long fingers curled and uncurled like tongues lapping rainwater. Mesmerizing. And his eyes ... like planets, dark and faraway, emotionless yet passionate. Lifeless, they boiled with energy. Cold, they steamed with invisible heat. A figment of her imagination, or the incarnation of her fantasies? Either way, the man sparked heat within. Not a comforting warmth, like snuggling close to a quiet fire; rather, a stinging excitement matching the thrill of a first kiss.

Claire shivered and watched him.

The rain increased, as did the wind. Water slapped his skin. Droplets shattered, multiplied and splattered again. Claire could almost hear the individual beads pound his face, head, and long brown coat.

Walk with me.

Weather battered and he persevered. The man stood his ground, lips pressed in a dry smile, fingers performing a water ballet.

Walk with me.

"What are you looking at?"

Claire jumped splashing lukewarm coffee onto her sweater. More coffee spilled to the floor as she spun to face Curtis.

"What's wrong with you? Sneaking up on me like that?" She swatted at the stain on the sweater, then pulled it away from her skin.

"What sneaking up? You haven't been listening to me at all, have you?"

"No. And you know why? Because I never know if you're talking to me or your screen."

"Aha. Good answer. Never thought of it that way. Tis true that I enjoy being with my computer more than I enjoy being with you. And do you know why?"

Claire didn't answer.

Curtis grinned. "Every touch of the keyboard ensures a response. A lot more fun than what my touch brings about with you."

"Take a walk."

"A walk?" He laughed. "Out there? Yuck! Nothing to look at but trees. Miles and miles of wood. How I hate wood. This house is made of wood. Coffins ... are made of wood."

"Shut up."

"That's the difference between you and me. You love wood, don't you, Claire? You feel all safe and secure in this highly mortgaged coffin we used to call a home?"

"Shut up!" Claire brushed by him and into the bathroom. After she slipped off the sweater, she threw it into the sink, turned on warm water and scrubbed the stain. Over the burble of water splashing, she heard Curtis rustling around in the refrigerator.

"Looks like I need to get groceries. Remember when you used to go to the store, Claire? You used to get groceries and shop and everything else normal woman do?" The refrigerator door slammed. The clank of condiment bottles and jars rang like out like shrill exclamation points. Footsteps sounded as Curtis took the stairs up two at a time, retrieved his keys, then bound back down. The front door opened and closed.

"Jerk." Claire dropped her sweater into the sink and left it to soak. Dressed in bra and jeans, she went back to the kitchen window. Drizzled landscape, slippery green trees outlined in a charcoal sketch of clouds. Pastel roses arched over, as if in prayer. Grey puddles spotted the muddy drive. The man was gone.

Claire sighed and went up to the loft to fetch a clean sweater. She missed him.

Had she lost her mind? It was possible. Why not? She'd lost everything else. Laid off from work, she'd started a home-based business that had drained their saving's account, then failed. Gone was her self-respect and what esteem she'd retained, Curtis had stripped away. Claire's world had become a melded mess of days and nights spent in a self-made cocoon. The longer she stayed at home, the more fearful she became of the outside world.

Curtis hated the changes in her. It was obvious. Their evenings together consisted of cool conversation over dinner, followed by a few hours of witless insults over the drone of television sitcoms and the nervous peck of the keyboard.

Curtis escaped to the Internet.

Claire had her man. He'd been gracing the bank outside the window more and more frequently the past few months as if cued to her loneliness. The first time she'd seen him, she'd screamed, called the police, reported a stalker. They'd found nothing. Curtis had mocked her. But the next day the man had returned. Staring. Eyes burrowing. Hands calling. It was then Claire knew he was something greater than a peeping tom or a pervert on the prowl. The man was there for her ... for Claire, unrelenting in his request. Walk with me. If only she could. Walk with me.

"I can't go out there. I can't."

Her voice echoed back, "I can't."

Curtis slipped into bed smelling of soap and toothpaste. A wisp of damp hair ruffled over Claire's shoulder before he rolled away from her.

She forced a calm into her voice. "Get out of my bed."

Curtis snickered.

"I said, get out of my bed."

He flopped onto his back and nestled his hands behind his head. "I won't."

"You've been gone since noon. It's three in the morning. You come home, take a shower to wash off the smell of sex and then expect to crawl into my bed?"

"My bed, Claire."

"Get out!"

"I pay the bills. It's my bed. You get out."

"Who do you think you are? This is just as much my ..."

Curtis swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood. "You better watch yourself. Maybe you forget who's supporting who around here."

"This isn't a business arrangement! This is a marriage." Claire jumped from the bed to face him. "Everything for you is a big tradeoff. You pay. You play. You don't want a wife. You want a servant, someone to service your needs!"

"Do you know someone like that? I'd like to meet her."

"You make me sick." Claire rushed to the dresser and pulled a sweatshirt on over her nightie. After she slipped into a pair of jeans, she fell onto her hands and knees in search of socks.

"You going somewhere?"

The edge in his voice turned her bowels to pudding. "I can't stand you. Can't stand to be in the same room with you. The same house." Socks in hand, Claire kicked her boots down the stairs.

"Oh! This I gotta see."

Claire was on the edge of the steps when Curtis called to her. "If you're really going to go, you'll need these." She turned and the car keys hit her in the face, slicing a line down her cheek. "You remember how to drive, Claire?"

A growl started in her throat, lifted her off her feet and Claire charged, wrapping her hands around his throat. They struggled for a minute that played out like hours, bare feet performing a war dance on hardwood floors. All the while Claire focused on her husband's eyes, bulged and distressed. It pleased her and she was about to tighten her grip when his look changed, showed fear. Curtis stumbled, wind-milled his arms. Claire let go.

The sound of his body tumbling down the stairs was louder than she could have imagined. He landed at the bottom with a resounding crack and then it was quiet. From where she stood, he looked comfortable, as if he'd chosen that particular spot to rest.

"Curtis?" Bare feet padded down the stairs with caution, testing each step. "Curtis?" He did not stir.

Finally Claire was beside him, heartbeat in her ears, bile swirling over her tongue. With quivering fingers, Claire brushed his hair. "Curtis?"

His head rolled to face her, then Curtis opened his eyes wide and snarled. "I'll get you." A feral growl followed the threat.

Claire screamed and tripped over her feet.

Slowly, Curtis tried to stand. "You stupid ..." He grabbed the stair rail, "... crazy," lifted his body from the floor, "bi ... " then screamed and dropped. "My leg! My God. You broke my freaking leg!"

Claire took a step back.

"You idiot. My leg! I can't believe you did this." He curled his body around the leg and kept screaming at Claire. "What are you doing standing there? Help me! Call an ambulance! Do something!"

Finally, Claire ran to the phone. One sharp beep for the number nine. Another beep sounded for the number one.

Walk with me.

Her finger hovered over the buttons and Claire looked up to the bank outside the window. Hands called to her like waves on the ocean.

"What are you doing? Hurry! I'm hurt!"

Walk with me.

Claire stared, wished the man inside.

Walk with me.

He wanted her. His persistence was a promise.

Walk with me.

"Claire! For the love of God, help me!"

Walk with me.

Claire dropped the phone, moved to the back door, turned the knob and opened.

"Damn you. Help me!"

Walk with me.

Carried on a stinging breeze, rain peppered her face. Claire put one bare foot outside and stopped.

Walk with me.

His eyes locked on hers and she moved forward. The mud was thick and she fell.

Curtis yelped for her. "Claire!"

She stood up and walked to the embankment. It was steep, drooling and slick.

Walk with me.

Dropping onto her knees, Claire crawled. Halfway up she slipped and was about to slide back down when the man grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her up beside him.

"For God's sake, Claire!"

Claire looked up at the man; the moon lit up his eyes and her fears melted away.

She was ten feet from her house, farther than she'd been for over a year and she was not afraid. Her body was covered with mud but Claire stood proud as if dressed in furs. Tears streamed down her face and she was happy.

"Claire, help me!"

Her husband's cries pattered her ears and she felt nothing for him. Claire's focus was on the man.

Walk with me.

With a giggle she answered, "I will."

And the man smiled for the first time—the radiant pledge a new day. After he drew his hand softly over Claire's cheek, he took a step back and began to unbutton his coat. Slowly, one at a time, he worked his way down. Watching his fingers move, Claire felt faint with excitement, a virgin's anticipation bubbling in her gut. As the man slipped the last button through the hole, the coat flaps opened slightly, allowing a flash of bright light to leak out.

Claire gasped and teetered.

"Claire! Help me! Please!"

The man wrapped his fingers around the material and pulled, opening the coat wide to a world where Claire would never have to be afraid again. Silvery-white, glittery dust swirled softly over her feet. Shimmering particles showered over Claire like evanescent fire transforming her to beautiful. She reached her hand into the mist and stardust warmed her fingers.

"Claire?"

She looked over her shoulder and found Curtis lying in the doorway, his eyes an odd jumble of angry and sad. Grinning, Claire turned away and stepped one foot into the man's secret universe. A gust blew over her tugging her hair away form her face, drying her tears, rippling the fabric of her shirt. It was a feeling she had never felt before nor could have imagined. Freedom. And love. And safety. The man was the answer to her prayers, the metaphysical realization of paradise. Claire inhaled a deep breath and slowly slipped away into the coat, disappearing into a glimmering cloud.

"Claire!"

Starbursts flashed on the man's coat and his eyes burned like bright white flames. He lifted up his arms and light streamed from his sleeves in phosphorescent columns. He threw his head back and a loud retort pierced the night air, cracking the quiet like a rifle shot.

The rain stopped.

"Claire?" Curtis crawled over the threshold.

The man closed up the coat, turned and slowly walked into the woods. Trees lit up around him like lamps. Swirling trails of glistening lights cut a path for his feet.

"Don't go." Curtis cuddled himself and watched the man walk away.

Soon, dense trees blocked his sight until all he could see were a few flickering dots, dipping and twirling amongst the branches like fireflies.

The wind whistled past his ears and Curtis thought he heard laughter.

"Claire?"

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