THE NIGHT OUT

by Cathy Rogers

"It's a crime," said Brenda. Evaluating her middle-aged frame from behind in the full-length mirror, she looked at her face as she spoke. "And it's a damn shame," she said watching the expressions on her face as she formed the words.

"What are you talking about," said her sister Bernice as she passed the open bedroom door she no longer had to share with her sister.

""I'm talking about aging and my ass, if you must know. Look at it; it's getting wider and lower every year. There should be a law against it."

"I don't think I have ever known anyone as preoccupied with her rear-end as you. Who cares anyway?"

With a cold stare, Brenda looked at Bernice and said, "That's the trouble. Nobody cares about my ass. Nobody cares about me."

"Oh, here we go again," said Bernice in the long-suffering affectation she knew Brenda hated. "Don't you ever get off the pity pot?"

"It's not the pity pot; it's my soapbox, smarty-pants. Anyway, I have a date tonight; maybe he'll have an interest in my ass."

"You are a vulgar girl."

"Maybe I am, but at least I'm out there looking. Now that Mom and Pop are gone, you should be too. The house is going up for sale and we don't have to take care of them anymore. We're free."

Watching Brenda lean over the vanity to apply her lipstick, Bernice turned to a serious tone and said,

"I'm not interested in going out like you do. And for your information, I meet a lot of men at church. At least we have a chance to get to know each other. How can you take any of the men you meet seriously when the only thing you have in common is that you both have a drinking problem? That's quite a foundation for a lasting relationship."

Standing upright again, Brenda walked toward Bernice. Neither blinked nor flinched, but looked into the others eyes.

"I really hate you. I can't wait until this house sells and I can get a place by myself."

"Truth hurts, I guess."

"Don't you have a church choir to join somewhere?"

Tilting her head up, Bernice grunted and continued down the hallway.

Taking a deep breath, Brenda relaxed her face into a soft smile, adjusted her bra strap and grabbed her purse. Surveying the house as a stranger might as she walked down the hall, she wondered if the floral wallpaper her mother put up twenty years ago would need to come down. By the time she reached the living room, she had dismissed thoughts about the upcoming sale; her mind had turned to her upcoming date.

Looking down at her watch, she estimated she could drive to the restaurant in fifteen minutes. Not wanting to arrive early, she took a few minutes to write down his information into the "Buddy Book." Since they were teenagers, their parents had insisted they leave details about their dates in a notebook by the front door. The habit lingered on as they got older believing that if someone else knew the man's name, telephone number, and where they were meeting, it worked like a good luck charm.

Dated a few days earlier, she saw Bernice's tight, well-formed handwriting listing a man named Harvey Gulick, address and phone number and in parentheses, retired, met in church. Brenda rolled her eyes as she thought what a live wire he must be. In her flowery casual handwriting, she wrote below taking up two lines: Alex Graves, tall and handsome, computer repair guy at the local Circuit Depot computer store. She had not confirmed that, she thought, but who would make up a boring job like that. Scrolling through her cell phone addresses, she found his name and wrote down his number.

Not that she would admit it to Bernice, but she felt an apprehension about Alex. Comparing her entry to the one Bernice had written, she realized she did not know where Alex lived, his home number or even what model car he drove. Meeting twice now at Peg's Coffee Shop downtown, tonight he was taking her to Clancy's Surf and Turf. She still had to meet him there although she suggested he pick her up at the house. Years of conditioning by their parents, now by Bernice, had made her wary of strangers and their motivations. After giving it more thought, she convinced herself not to place so much emphasis on the trivial. It was only dinner, for Heaven's sake.

***

After the waiter had seated her at a candlelit table by the window, Brenda kept her hands busy with a glass of Chardonnay. Judging from their last two meetings, Alex was prompt but still had not arrived. After fifteen minutes, she finished the wine and pulled her phone from her purse. A mix of emotions between embarrassment and indignation aggravated by the wine, she listened to the ringing of his phone echo beside her.

"I'm sorry I'm so late. Forgive me," said Alex, leaning in from behind her.

Flushed from her thoughts seconds ago and aroused by his breath on her ear and neck, she felt herself turning back into an inexperienced teenager.

"That's okay," she said. "I had a glass of wine while I waited."

"Good. I'm glad you're not angry. I was heading out the door at work when my boss called me back in."

"We have the rest of the evening. This restaurant has a good reputation. I'm looking forward to it."

Asking herself if she were psychic or was there something strange the way he would not look her in the eye, she decided she should go easy on the wine tonight, just in case.

"Was anything wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

"At work. You said your boss called you back in so I thought there might be a problem."

"Nothing, really. It's just that stock has disappeared and management wants to figure out if it's customers or employees. They're asking everyone to volunteer to take lie detector tests starting tomorrow."

"Is that legal?"

"It's not mandatory," said Alex. "Anyway, let's not worry about that tonight. We're supposed to be here for a good time."

Brenda noticed an edge in his voice that told her to leave that subject alone, but no matter how well she tried not to, the idea nagged her throughout dinner. After a cup of coffee with their desserts, the waiter brought the check in its black leather bill holder and placed it in front of Alex before discreetly backing away. Reaching first into his right pant pocket, then the other, he felt in his jacket looking over at her with shocked surprise.

"I can't believe this. My wallet is missing," he said.

"What? Is it in your car?"

"No, I didn't drive my car here. Anyway, I remember I had it at work. I must have taken it out for the coffee machine and set it on my desk. Oh, my God. I'm embarrassed to ask you this, but can you pay for the meal? I'll write you a check. We can go over to my office right now and get my wallet and checkbook. Heck, I might even have the cash."

Was she psychic or did she have an internal bullshit meter she had never noticed before? Trying to keep her tone light and friendly, just in case he was not lying, Brenda said,

"No problem. These things happen," she said as she pulled out her wallet and slipped her credit card into the sleeve of the bill holder. Smiling back at him, she regarded his handsome features, knowing it would take little encouragement to fall into those deep brown eyes and lose herself for a few hours. 'Don't be easy, ' is what her father used to say to her before her dates. Funny that he had not said that to Bernice, but let that go, she thought. Tonight, if she were lucky, she would be easy, estimating how long it would take him to work off the $135.00 restaurant bill.

"While you take care of that, I have to go to the Men's Room. I'll be right back," he said going in the opposite direction as the waiter returned for payment. The waiter had taken her card and returned it to her before Alex returned. She left a tip, signed the credit card slip hastily and returned it to the waiter just as she saw Alex crossing from the other side of the dining room.

"Thank you, Madame," said the waiter before leaving the table. Brenda wondered if this was some 'man' thing, avoiding each other's faces: one because he was embarrassed while the other felt another man's embarrassment.

"Sorry I took so long. I made a call to be sure I could get into my office. I'd hate for you to drive me out there to find we couldn't get in." Reaching his hand from around his back, he pulled out a small box of chocolates.

"For me? Thank you. I love these chocolates."

"I remembered you said that. Look at this as my first attempt to make it up to you for having to pay for dinner. Have one and let me know what you think," Alex said.

Leaning toward her with his extended hand, she reached in for one, and then two of the soft-centered chocolates mounds.

"Yummy," said Brenda. "Good thinking. So, we're good to go?"

"Yep," said Alex. "Oh, wait a minute. Why don't you go out and get the car. I want to make a call to my brother and it's a little private. It'll only take a minute and I'll be right out."

"Sure," said Brenda, thinking that this was not turning out to be much of a romantic evening with the phone calls and forgotten wallets. What next, she thought. Taking refuge in chocolate, she ate all of the chocolates and after she licked her fingers said, "Much better."

***

During the drive to his office, Brenda felt the evening was finally getting interesting when she felt a warm hand reach around her neck and pull her into a kiss while they sat at a red light. Taking all of her self-control to return to the task of driving, she was happy when he directed her to turn in through the open driveway of a fenced property.

Situated inside a large industrial park with business condominium units mixed with warehouse offices, the road lead them to a massive brick structure surrounded by another tall fence topped with barbed wire. Stopping in front of the closed gate, Alex jumped out. From her perspective, she saw him working on something she assumed was the lock or a combination, until the massive gate began to slide to the left. Back in the car, Alex told her to drive through the gate and around to the back where the loading dock platforms lined up on the entire back of the building.

For a moment, Brenda had a vision of herself getting murdered in an isolated spot like this, but she shook off the thought. All this was a temporary glitch in what she hoped would be an eventful evening. Sure, she had had doubts when she had to pay for dinner, but he was going to make it right, the reason they were here, she told herself.

"Pull over right here," said Alex, pointing to a dark parking area at the side of the building.

"This is spooky over here. Why can't I park in the lighted area?"

"When the security guard comes around, he might think you don't belong here and call the cops. By the time everything gets straightened out, our evening will be over," he whispered, reaching over to kiss her again.

"Okay. I'm convinced," she said feeling the heat returning to her face. "Just hurry. I've seen too many scary movies and I have a wild imagination."

"I'll remember that for later," he winked at her and left the car.

Leaning back, Brenda allowed her mind to wander around thoughts of later, when they would be at his place and the formalities of a new relationship were replaced with the familiarity of intimacy. Between the wine and the late hour, she decided to rest her eyes while she waited. When she opened her eyes again, she was not sure how long she had been waiting. Her watch display said 1:35 am, but she knew that had to be wrong. They had arrived close to 11:00. A quiet stillness surrounded her as she rolled down the window and listened.

Uneasiness came over her. In times like this, she had an inconvenient habit of doing the opposite of what hindsight told her should have been the right action to take. Trying to come to the decision about what to do next, she weighed her choices. The smartest thing would be to call "9-1-1" and let the police look for Alex. Or was that the smartest thing, she thought as she realized how suspicious her presence here was without Alex to corroborate. She could wait and do nothing, but that meant ignoring that something was wrong. Besides that, she had to pee. The obvious choice was to get out of the car and look for Alex. One problem with that was if someone had hurt Alex, they would be most likely to do the same to her. The other problem with that was she had no key to the building and had not seen the entrance he had used from her obstructed point of view.

What would Bernice do, she thought. The answer was quick: Bernice would not be here in the first place. Maybe she should call her. No, she would scold her and tell her to get the heck out of there. Looking down at her phone, she scrolled through her address book on the verge of calling her, but when she saw Alex, she selected his name instead, pressed the green phone key, and waited.

Ringing several times, Brenda felt anxiety wondering if he were ignoring her or if he was in no condition to answer. Breaking through her nervousness, she knew what she had to do. While she had misgivings about getting out of the car, she considered how wrong it would be to drive off and find out later that she left Alex to die. How would she feel if he would have lived if found in time? So much time had passed that she might still be too late. Speculation became reality, and she opened the car door and started to run around to the back of the building.

Checking each bay for unlocked entry, Brenda continued around the building until she came to an employee entrance. The thick glass door with metal threads crisscrossing its interior allowed her a view of the long interior wall. Surprised the door gave in to her push, she made the decision to walk in.

"Pssst. Alex, are you here?" Hearing her whispered voice in the echoing silence of the hall, she thought her voice sounded like it belonged to someone else. Clearing her throat, she called out in a louder voice, "Alex, please answer me. Are you in trouble?"

The interior remained still and silent; her interior was anything but that.

Moving forward into the sterile interior with its fluorescent light casting a sterile haze into every corner, she felt her heart in violent beats as sweat started to form in inconvenient places under her clothes. Reaching for the first doorknob on her left, she meant to call his name but no sound came out when she tried. That was when she realized she was petrified.

That was when she knew that if he were there, he had to be dead. She had called out his name when she came in and had heard nothing. Stands to reason. Not for the first time in her life would she talk herself into the easy way out. Deciding that Alex was not hurt, not there, and if he were there, he was already dead anyway, she started to back herself toward the exit.

Backing down the hallway, the distance felt greater and took longer than it did in reverse. Every fiber of her body was on edge, alert to every sound, aware of every shadow. With her nerves like bare live wires, the paralyzing fear that made her want to stay in one spot lost out only to the more rational concern that someone might find her there and harm her. With a burst of decisiveness, she ran down the short distance through the door and around the building to her car.

To her relief, the car keys were still in it. Turning on the ignition, she locked the doors and turned on the heat before turning the car around and leaving through the still-opened gate. The idea of leaving that gate open worried her, but this was a matter of life-and-death. That's the position I'll take if anyone asks me, she thought. Getting her story in order in case a security guard noticed her or stopped her, she was almost home before she realized how angry she was. Sure, she was mad as heck at Alex, but not as mad as she was at herself. If Bernice ever heard about this, there would be no end to her lording it over her for the rest of their lives.

Two o'clock and pulling into the driveway, Brenda left the car in front of the garage. If she opened the garage door, Bernice would be sure to hear it and come out to interrogate her on coming in so late. Creeping along the side of the house to the entrance by the laundry room, she calculated she could go in unnoticed since Bernice slept on the other side of the house. Just as she had settled onto her bed and was taking off her shoes, her cell phone rang. Her choice of ring tone sounded like a reveille as it resounded throughout the house. Making a note to change it in the morning, she grabbed it quickly and flipped it open.

"This better be good," she said in cautious intensity.

"Listen, babe. I'm sorry to have left you there, but I had no choice," said the sensuous voice.

" You are a dirtbag. Don't call me up and try to give me some sweet talk. You've got a nerve is all I can think," said Brenda. Humiliation had surfaced to replace worry now that she realized he was not hurt. Almost feeling suffocated by her emotions, she could not speak without the worry of crying.

"Maybe I am a dirtbag, but I have to let you know what happened for your own good."

"What are you talking about? I hope you're not going to tell me you left me alone in a deserted parking lot to go fight vampires and aliens."

"No. I'm telling you that my friends and I robbed the place last night. I put sleeping pills in your candy and I didn't imagine you would wake up before I got back. You were supposed to be my alibi. Since you did wake up and left, I thought I should tell you in case the police contact you."

"Are you kidding me? You really do have a nerve!"

"I don't care what you think. Tell the police what you want, like it will do you or them any good," Alex said before hanging up on her.

Holding the phone away from her ear, she glared at it as if it could give her an explanation.

"Holy Mother of God! What have I gotten myself into?" she said to her reflection in the vanity mirror.

Tired and worried, she looked at the mascara smudges under her eyes, her disarranged hair, and pasty skin tone and felt the onset of depression. She had held high hopes for the night out with Alex. Maybe even something bordering on a long-term acquaintance. Now, all she felt like was an old woman, gullible and unwanted.

Expecting a knock on the front door any minute, she took a little blue Valium she had saved from her dental work. Crawling onto the bed with all of her clothes and make-up on, her tired eyes felt crusty and swollen from the residual mascara. Exhausted, she fell into an uneasy sleep.

***

With aching sinuses and bloodshot eyes, Brenda wandered into the kitchen around ten o'clock. Bernice, still sitting at the window reading the paper, gave her a disapproving look but did not comment. Brenda poured herself a large mug of coffee and set the sausage in the cast iron skillet to cook. Sitting across from Bernice, she took the remaining news sections and started to read the local news.

"Looking for your obituary?" Bernice said.

"Kiss my ass," said Brenda.

"Don't you think you're a little old to drag yourself home at two o'clock in the morning?"

"Spying on me again? Why don't you get a life?"

"It's not spying when you get woken up by a jingling keys, creaking doors and cell phone call. I would prefer not to know how my sister is managing while she is going through her second childhood. Do you think we've lead repressed lives because we lived here with the folks and now you're trying to recapture your youth?"

"Kiss off. I don't owe you an explanation for anything."

Bernice tilted up her chin and grunted.

After looking through all the sections of the paper, Brenda finally found a small story on the burglary the night before. Forcing herself to read it, she felt relief to learn there were no witnesses and no leads. This was owed chiefly to the malfunctioning security cameras and the absence of the security guard who had been in a car accident on his way to work. The security company was taking responsibility for their faulty equipment, but the police did not suspect duplicity. The focus of the investigation was the employees because there was no sign of forced entry.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Brenda was thankful no one saw her there. Giving private thanks for that, she took a moment to look inwardly at her recent behavior. As unpleasant as it was to admit, Bernice knew her well and there was truth to what she had said. For all that she had expected after their parents had died, she had experienced more frustration and doubt about herself than she had all of her life. All the adventures she wanted to experience looked better on paper than they did in action, not to mention the hidden risks she had not considered. Humility was not one of her qualities, but she knew that annoying person across the table had been right about her the whole time. She had barely escaped last night with her dignity and freedom and was grateful for the feeling that someone up there was watching out for her.

"Mind you, I'm not admitting anything, but I think I'm the one that needs a church choir to join, don't you?"

Reaching over to touch Brenda's hand, looking compassionate rather than judgmental, she smiled and said,

"I know just the place."