Nightline by Brian Jackson

Brian Jackson is an amateur writer who is trying, like many others, to get his words read. He is retired and lives with his wife, Melanie, a published author, in the sierra foothills. Brian is the editor in cheif of DRR.

Lori sat in the alcove of her small downtown apartment, head leaning against the window pane, using the cool glass to ease the pain and swelling of her battered face and forehead. Rolling her head from side to side, she tried to focus on the rain falling outside. The hot tears running down her cheeks raced the cool drops of rain coursing down the window. The weather this evening was wonderfully dark and ugly, matching her mood to a tee.

The one source of comfort she allowed herself lay in her lap. Her hands were draped gently upon it. It was neither companionable pet nor warm beverage, but instead an inexpensive telephone handset. As she watched the rain fall she waited for the phone to ring. Turning her head impulsively to the clock on the wall she noted that it was not yet time. Her mind wandered and she recalled when the phone calls had first begun.

The first call had been an annoyance. She was cooking dinner, and rather than burn the chicken breast she was frying she had hung up on the caller after receiving no answer to her repeated greeting. The second call came two nights later and in this case she actually took the time to vent her frustration with the caller before hanging up. The third call arrived the next night, later in the evening. She put her fist to her face at the memory of apologizing to the caller for the lecture of the previous night.

The following night she told the caller of the bad day she had experienced, all the while hearing nothing but the soothing sound of breathing in reply. The phone calls continued, arriving nightly around eleven o'clock, and with each call she talked longer and revealed more of herself, her thoughts, and her life. Ultimately she revealed more than she had ever revealed to any person face to face. She could no longer remember how long it had been since she fell asleep with the handset to her ear only to find the familiar, rhythmic breathing awaiting her when she awoke the next day.

This evening had begun well enough - a simple blind date setup by the girls at the office. The girls had been chiding her that she needed to get out more. The phone number that was handed to her was one that had been slipped to one of the girls at a club the night before. Lori was assured that the man it belonged to was gorgeous.

She was greatly surprised when she opened her door to meet her date for the evening. He was handsome and muscular, well dressed and groomed, well mannered and personable -- not at all the type that Lori had expected to show up for a blind date. And definitely not the type that would typically ask her out on a date. The dinner went well, Lori enjoying the food and conversation, but in particular she enjoyed the attention being lavished on her and the rare feeling of confidence that accompanied garnering the uninterrupted focus of such a man. By the end of a wonderful dinner, while sharing a third bottle of wine, Lori found herself drunk on life and shivered as her date ran a finger up her arm then raised one of her hands to his lips to gently kissed it.

The look in his eyes was unmistakable. Lori had already decided earlier in the evening that with the slightest prompting this man was getting lucky tonight. He remained a gentleman as he helped her from her chair and guided her through the restaurant to retrieve her coat. He simply slipped an arm around her waist as they waited for a taxi to arrive, huddled under his umbrella against a light drizzle. It was once in the cab that the dam retaining his passion broke and her date was revealed to be something beyond the gentleman he had so effortlessly portrayed. Lori had no sooner taken her seat and heard her date bark an order to take them to his hotel then she was smothered by his desire. At first she responded enthusiastically to his kisses and helped guide his hand toward the parts of her which were inflamed with desire, but as he became more aggressive she realized that he was hurting her. As she transitioned from full involvement in the experience to simply tolerating his attention she began to wonder whether she would have to force him to stop before they arrived at his hotel. Fortunately, the trip was a brief one.

Once outside the cab, her companion was again the gentleman. Although now in an obvious hurry to get inside, he once more guided her with a gentle hand, trading jokes with the doorman as we entered the hotel. Sharing the elevator ride with another couple, Lori could feel the desire pouring off of him as he again restrained himself. She felt the heat of his desire bring her own internal fires once more to a blaze.

He hit Lori for the first time the moment she turned after having entered his hotel room. The next blow drove her to his bed and he was on her. Her dress and undergarments were ripped from her body without sustaining so much damage that they could not be repaired later in the evening. Additional blows rained down as the episode unfolded.

Lori simply allowed what happened next to run its course; after all, it wasn't as if this was the first time she had been raped. This wasn't even the first time that she had been struck by a man. What hurt the most was the confusion - why would this man do this to get something that he was going to get anyway, something that we could have shared?

No words were spoken afterwards as Lori dressed and repaired her torn clothes. She spent some time in the bathroom attending to the bruises on her face. She noted that it felt as if one of her ribs was if not broken, at least bruised. When she stepped out she found her attacker holding the door to his room open and extending a sheaf of crisp bills.

"For the cab," was all he said.

Lori took the money and left.

Now she sat in her apartment after having showered the filth of the man from her and tried to will the phone to ring. Looking up once more, her heart caught as the clock struck eleven. Please, don't be late tonight, she pleaded silently. Don't be late tonight.

Danny stood in the far back of the elevator trying to blend into the woodwork so as not to draw attention to himself. He was thankful that he held a large bag of groceries in his arms that he could use as a shield. This kept him from having to try to avert his eyes from the couple who was making out beside him. Occasionally they'd bump into him, apparently a result of the ferocity of their attraction. This caused Danny to shuffle even further into the corner in response.

Although Danny was embarrassed by the episode, he couldn't help but peak over the eggs between the celery and donut box to catch a glimpse of the woman's leg. It had lifted off the floor to wrap itself around the man. The man held the woman tight and ran his hand up that leg to snake his fingers beneath the elastic of her panties. Danny could feel himself becoming aroused at the sight.

At the sound of a gentle bell the elevator came to a stop. The young couple got off leaving Danny feeling flustered and confused. He had half a desire to report the couple, or at least the man who he knew lived in the building, to the superintendent. Of course, the other half of him wanted the couple to be back in the elevator so that he could watch them, and feel their heat.

Feeling ashamed of himself, Danny got off on his floor and quickly scurried down the hall to his apartment. Removing his keys from his pocket, he juggled the groceries while slipping the key into the lock and opened his door. He was fast enough to succeed in avoiding further human contact.

Once inside he leaned his back against the door and immediately felt himself begin to relax. He stood there for several minutes before carrying his groceries into the kitchen to deposit them on the counter.

Danny put his groceries away neatly, each item had its place, then gazed up to the wall clock to check the time. It was quarter to eleven. Almost time.

Removing his coat and hanging it in the closet on a wooden hanger, Danny loosened his tie as he stepped into the living room. The room was lavishly furnished with contemporary furniture, looking every bit a swinging bachelor pad. Even though no one but Danny had ever been in his apartment. If the drapes had been drawn the windows would have revealed a panoramic view of the city. But the drapes were never drawn.

In the corner of the living room stood a simple wooden chair. The chair looked out of place amid all the chrome, leather, glass, and upholstery of the rest of the room. Beside the chair stood a small wooden table, and upon that table a rotary phone.

On the wall behind the table were hundreds of phone numbers written on the wall. Most of the numbers were crossed out, but a handful of them remained legible.

Danny returned to the kitchen to retrieve a plastic bottle of purified water from the refrigerator, then carried the water back into the living room to set it on the small wooden table. He took as seat in the wooden chair which creaked under his weight and sipped from the water bottle while he waited. At eleven o'clock he lifted the receiver from its cradle and dialed the first number written on the wall.

The receiver on the other end of the line was picked up before the second ring.

"Hello, is that you?" a female voice said impatiently on the line.

Danny didn't answer. He never answered. In fact, he never said a word during his phone calls. He just listened. He simply connected with the outside world the best that he could.

"I'm so glad you called," the voice said, sounding genuinely relieved. "I was afraid you were going to forget. You see, I've had an awful night. I have to tell someone about it and you're all I've got."

And the woman told Danny her story. Half way through the telling she broke down in tears. She told the whole tale with only a single break to blow her nose. Danny found that his hands clinched in anger at the telling, but still he didn't say a word. By the end the woman sounded winded as they shared a good long silence together.

She was the first to break the silence.

"I wonder," the woman began tentatively. "I wonder if I could ask you a special favor this evening." Danny felt himself tense at the mere suggestion. "I need to know that there's someone out there, someone who cares. Would you, could you, please say something?"

And there it was, at last. It had finally happened. This connection had lasted the longest of any of them, but tonight it ended the same as they all do.

Settling the handset gently down in the cradle, Danny felt a tear come to his eye as he picked up a pencil off the table and used it to cross the number off the wall using dark, angry strokes. He sat feeling numb for a time, then picked up the receiver and dialed.

"Hello, is that you?" a voice said on the other end of the line. "Thank God you called, I've been waiting."

© 2009 by Brian Jackson