The Night Wanderer (9 page)

“But . . . Tony?”

“I'll be right back. Promise. Go talk to some other people. Let them get to know you.” Tiffany was about to shout louder, but her objection ended up dying in her throat. As angry as she was, Tiffany was far too self-conscious to draw more attention to herself.

Instead, she watched Tony run up to the girls, who hugged him, planting many kisses on his cheek. Six in all. Tiffany counted.

Again, Tony had taken off on her. In fact, Tony had been spending an awful lot of time away from her side all evening. Three trips to pee, the toke session, one trip to look for some additional beer. And he never invited her to come along. Tiffany could understand not coming on the bathroom trips, but why not the others? In the two hours she'd been there, Tiffany had met no new people. Am I overreacting? she wondered as she sat alone.

Ten agonizingly long minutes passed before Tiffany managed to work up the nerve to mingle. Summoning up her courage, she walked toward that group of boys by the fire. Gripping the beer in her hand, she struggled to project an air of confidence.

“Hey, what's up?”

The three boys looked at her. The one Tony had called Dave seemed surprised. No one spoke as Tiffany stood there, waiting for some kind of response.

Finally, Dave spoke.

“Hi.”

Again silence.

“Tony tells me you guys know each other.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

More silence. Tiffany could feel herself beginning to shuffle back and forth on her heels, something she did when she was uncomfortable.

“Oh. From where?”

All three boys looked at one another. It was difficult for Tiffany to figure out what they were thinking.

One of the cousins spoke up. “Uh, we've never seen you here before.”

“Yeah. It's my first time.”

“You're from Otter Lake, right?”

She nodded. Perhaps a little too vigorously.

“Don't get a lot of Otter Lake people here.”

“Is that a problem?”

They were oddly silent, as was Tiffany. Then Dave shrugged.

“We gotta go.” And like birds in the air, they turned at the same time and walked away. Tiffany couldn't decide if she was insulted or relieved.

Tony was driving faster than normal because he could tell he was in deep trouble. Tiffany was talking without even looking at him. “It's not that I don't want you to hang out with your friends. But you didn't have to leave me sitting on the hood of your car all night. You could have taken me with you, you know. You could have introduced me to your friends.” Ahead of them was only blackness as Tony's car cut a path through Jap Land to his girlfriend's house. And Tiffany's mood was just about as dark. As with many relationships, the stirrings of puppy love had given way to the growling pit bull of reality.

Annoyingly, Tony seemed slightly amused. “Hey, I saw you talking to Ralph and his cousins. See, you didn't need me.” Just ahead, a rabbit darted across the road.

“I don't know them. It was so useless. It was like talking to a lilac bush, except a lilac bush would have been a lot more pleasant. They were rude and I felt so embarrassed. I was there with you! Is it that you don't want to be seen with me? Is that it?” The fight she had avoided earlier seemed to be making a belated appearance.

Again a small smile touched his lips. “No, that is not it. Hey, I took you, didn't I?”

“You took me but you certainly weren't with me. Tony, I'm getting the feeling some of your friends aren't exactly thrilled with the fact you're with an Otter Lake girl. Is that true?”

The smile left his lips. “Why? What have you heard?”

“I haven't heard anything. But the attitude I've been getting says a lot. It's kinda obvious.” This time, Tiffany looked at him expectantly, wanting an answer.

For a moment, his handsome features were lost in the dark, then he finally spoke. “Yeah. Nothing specific, just stupid talk. Even my parents. But who cares, right? That's their problem, not ours.” Again he smiled, and the gloom lifted ever so slightly in the dark car.

For no reason, Tiffany found herself saying, “My mother lives with a white guy.”

“Oh.” The car seemed to eat up the miles as silence once again descended. “I get the impression your father ain't too pleased with me. For a lot of the same reasons. I mean, that's life, right?”

Looking out into the night, she went quiet once more. The drive was taking forever. For a few minutes, the only sound was the occasional moth hitting the windshield.

“And where were you all that time with Julie? You disappeared once you got to the cars. You said you'd just be a second. That was one long second. In fact, it was seventeen minutes.”

This time Tony responded with a laugh. “You timed me? Come on, Julie and I are old friends. We've known each other since grade four. You're mad at me. That is so cute.”

Tiffany would normally love being called cute. It was a pretty safe compliment. But that was at the best of times. This was not the best of times, and calling her cute during the slow burn of her anger was perhaps not the best way for Tony to placate her. She gave him the coldest stare she could muster, which unfortunately was lost in the darkness of the car.

“I am not cute. This is not cute. I'm
very
mad at you.”

“You know, I took you to that party. I didn't have to. I wanted to. Okay, so things didn't work out as planned, but I did try. How many parties have you invited me to in Otter Lake?” If there was one thing Tiffany hated in an argument, it was somebody daring to throw a log of logic into the angry fire.

“That's . . . that's . . . different. And you're changing the subject.”

He smiled smugly. “Uh, huh.”

“I don't go to a lot of parties in Otter Lake.” Then Tiffany remembered that she was supposed to be partying it up with Darla and Kim tonight. That was a party. Was she lying to her boyfriend? Christ, how many more things could go wrong tonight? She just wanted to get home. The rest of the ride passed slowly as Tiffany stewed.

Upon their arrival at the house, Midnight was oddly silent. Tony noticed something else too. “Hey look, there's a car in your driveway. It's the Camry we saw.”

The guest. In all the stress, she had conveniently forgotten about the guy from Europe . . . what was his name? L' Error or something. It had been a difficult night, a worse ride home, and now she had nothing to look forward to but sleeping in the basement. The only thing that gave her comfort was the belief that things couldn't get any worse. Then again, the basement had been known to flood during rainstorms . . .

Tony parked the car and turned to her. “So, we okay?”

She mustered up all the self-confidence she had left after the night's events. “Tony, how do you feel about me? After tonight, I need to know.”

For a half second, Tony seemed to ponder her question with pursed lips. Way too much time to make Tiffany feel comfortable. She opened her mouth to question the time delay when he leaned forward, gently putting his hand on the back of her head, and drew her close. They kissed. Tony had many flaws but kissing wasn't one of them. It was as if her very essence, whatever it was that made her Tiffany, somehow was focused on her lips. The moment held for a few seconds more, then, reluctantly, their lips parted.

“Does that answer your question?”

“That's it? A kiss?”

Tony was perplexed. There was more to making up than kissing? This was news. “Ah, what do you want?”

Tiffany pondered the question for a moment, weighing options. “I want a new life, but I don't think you can give that to me. So I'll have to settle for . . . a promise to take me to dinner. Not a McDonald's but a real restaurant. Someplace with napkins and waiters that pour water and everything. A fancy place. An Italian place.”

Tony quickly considered his options. “And I know exactly where to take you. It's a date. It has an all-you-can-eat gnocchi bar.” To seal the deal, they kissed once more.

“Talk to you tomorrow?”

“You bet. Don't know when exactly, though. Gotta work, then run some errands for my father. Later, Tiffany.”

With a self-satisfied smile, Tiffany got out of the car. Midnight was watching her. She caught a glimpse of him as she closed the door. He seemed to be cowering in his doghouse. But right now, she wouldn't care if Midnight was tap-dancing on the top of his doghouse while juggling his water dish, food dish, and a rabbit. This night had turned out pretty good after all.

With a wave, she said good-bye to Tony. He drove off into the late-fall fog, and Tiffany watched until his taillights disappeared. Sighing deeply, she turned toward her house, or the dungeon, as she was beginning to think of it. On her way past the poplars, she leaned over to pet Midnight but he wasn't interested. In fact, he seemed too freaked out to stick his head out the door. The whole doghouse seemed to be shaking. Maybe he was sick or something. She'd have to talk to her dad about that in the morning.

For a second, Tiffany stood at the bottom of the steps. It was bizarre, but it was almost like she could feel she was being watched. Something in the woods had eyes on her. Having grown up here all her life, she knew the woods were alive with things she would never or rarely see. But tonight, it was different. There was a curiosity, an interest that she had never felt before. Even the insects had decided better of announcing their presence. Tiffany held her jacket closed and looked over her shoulder. She saw nothing but blackness and night.

“Boy, these woods can get spooky,” she muttered to herself. Running up the stairs, Tiffany discovered the latch on the screen door was stuck. It often did that when the temperature changed. It wouldn't open. She struggled with it, trying to be forceful but not wanting to make enough noise to wake the house. But the more Tiffany struggled, the more desperate she felt and she didn't understand why. She had struggled with this latch for most of her teen existence, but for some reason tonight it seemed inordinately important. She had to get in that house now. As if her life depended on it, she gave the stubborn latch one last strong tug and, miraculously, it came free. The door opened and she rushed into the house, closing it behind her so quickly there was a swift whoosh of air that sent the kitchen curtains billowing.

Once inside, behind the locked door, she thought she would feel better. But the house was more silent than normal for this hour. Even the sound of the ticking clock seemed strangely muted. There was nothing specific that Tiffany noticed, but something was different. There was an aroma, one that she could feel more than smell, though that didn't make much sense to her.

She took off her jacket to get comfortable, but the feeling of disquiet refused to go away.

TEN

T
IFFANY KNEW her father and grandmother would be in bed, sleeping soundly. Same with this European guy who had rudely intruded into her life. Asleep in her warm comfy bed. Still, she wouldn't let that ruin what she had managed to salvage from the evening. If she had to sleep in the basement, then so be it. She could and would live with it. She had Tony's kiss to keep her warm. But, knowing Tony's kiss would probably have no effect on the spiders, Tiffany snatched a fly swatter in case she had to do battle.

Making her way down the creaky stairs, she flicked on the light switch that was positioned by the third step. One of the peculiarities of rez living is the conformity that comes with any government housing program. Dozens of houses built in a few years, all from the same blueprint. Identical one- or two-bedroom places that differed only in how they were furnished or landscaped. Yet, every house had its own individuality, depending on the whims of the contractors. If a slightly out-of-place light switch can be called individuality. The lone light in the basement came on, almost but not quite flooding the cement and cinder-block palace she now called her room.

She entered her carpeted domicile only to see it furnished with some baggage she had never seen before. This was—

“May I help you?”

If Tiffany had been a cat, her claws would now be sunk into the ceiling rafters. Instead, she coughed up a slight scream of surprise and stumbled backward, her hand grabbing at the hanging carpet, tearing it from its stapled anchor as she fell out of the pseudo-bedroom. Crawling away like a demented crab, she scuttled directly into the furnace, hitting her head with a resounding thud that echoed in the cavernous basement. Her heart beating wildly, Tiffany struggled to stand, but the carpet had become tangled around her feet. She succeeded in rising partway up only to fall back into the furnace again. Once more hitting her head.

She grabbed at the furnace, desperate to stand, but it was a strong hand on her upper arm that lifted her up with surprising ease. Beside her, his face hidden in shadows, but with an almost halolike effect around his head from the lightbulb behind him, was a man. Above-average height. Thin. Longish hair. He stood in the basement like a shadow. Then the shadow spoke.