The New Sheriff in Town

At about 7 pm there is a knock at the door. I have just gotten off the toilet and am washing my hands. I dry them hastily and run to the door. Cautiously, I open it a crack and peek out. At first no one seems to be there. I open the door a bit more and then I see him, peering a little shyly back at me through the screen door. He is a thin man with precise features and twinkling eyes that immediately draw me in. I raise my eyebrows in a question mark.

Suddenly he breaks into a grin. "Sinthia?" His eyes sparkle under the porchlight.

I am intrigued yet befuddled. How does this person know my name? "Yes?"

His grin expands until his whole face is glowing. "I am the basement dweller."

My mind is racing now. The basement dweller? Who on earth comes to the door on a Friday evening, calls me by name, and introduces himself as the basement dweller? Suddenly I remember the basement apartment I'd wanted to rent in the building next door and realize that this must be the new tenant.

"Oh." My voice comes out a little breathily. He is still standing there, grinning at me as though he had all night to stand there on my deck. I realize that it is raining and I am being rude, so I open the screen door for him. He steps inside.

"Joe said you were having some problems with the sink and the stove?" I notice that he is just a little taller than me. His hair is slicked back, the streaks of grey giving him a noble and aristocratic look somehow. I cannot guess at his age. Maybe forty? His skin is weathered and I suspect he is a bit younger than he looks. I wonder if he smokes.

"Oh. Yeah." I try to gather my thoughts. He grins again, radiating a kind of shimmering heat.

"Well, I came up to take a look. From now on you can call me anytime you have a problem." He pauses, his smile widening. "I'm the new sheriff in town." His eyes sparkle.

I laugh. "OK. This is good news." I am feeling a bit lightheaded.

He is studying my face carefully now, and his smile softens a bit. He holds out his hand and we shake. "I'm Sebastian." His handshake is firm but not rough.

"Nice to meet you." I do not know what else to say so I lead him into the bathroom. I notice with chagrin the magazine still on the floor next to the toilet, and hope the room has aired out sufficiently. "The faucet's leaking and sometimes the water runs over the side of the sink and leaves puddles on the floor," I say, gesturing toward the sink. He strokes the faucet slowly, thoughtfully, with one hand. I am turning into a puddle on the floor myself.

"Have you checked the caps underneath?" he asks. I shake my head. He crouches down and opens the cabinet doors beneath the sink. I think of the boxes of condoms and organic cotton tampons in the cabinet and am embarrassed, but he does not seem to notice, or if he does, pretends not to. He reaches in and feels the pipes, humming softly to himself. Suddenly I am aware that I am not wearing a bra under my thin cotton blouse, and I wonder if it's obvious. He closes the cabinet and stands. "Yeah, it's done. I'll replace it."

"Thanks." I maneuver around him awkwardly and lead him into the kitchen, where I busy myself with pulling the cord out from behind the stove. "See... this one is bent." I hold up the cord for him to see. One of the prongs is bent at a 90 degree angle.

He takes it and smiles slowly. "Ah... I don't think these outlets in here are grounded anyway, so it probably doesn't matter..." In one smooth movement he expertly bends the prong back into place with his thumb. "But I'll see if I can run a cord behind the fridge so you don't have to stretch it across the room."

"Thanks." I smile up at him, catching a whiff of aftershave. I do not smell cigarette smoke... why the weathered face then? His eyes twinkle out at me from amidst the tired skin.

"Will you be around tomorrow?" he asks. I won't be, but I wish I could. "No, but Mrs. Godwin downstairs has the key. I don't mind if you come up while I'm not here."

"OK then." He grins again. "I'll get the key from Mrs. G."

We go back out to the living room. My cat is crouched in the corner, staring at him warily. He notices and crouches down, slowly offering his fingertips for her to sniff. She approaches him cautiously and smells him, looking as though she can't decide whether to run, bite him, or both.

"Hi, Kitty. I saw you in the window today." In a flash it comes back to me-- I saw him out the window earlier today, standing on the roof next door and throwing down assorted trash-- sandbags, palm leaves, and an old TV antenna. I had feared for his safety as he crept closer to the edge, seemingly oblivous to the rain.

He stands slowly. The cat is still eying him with distrust. I make a mental note of her reaction, wondering if she has caught on to something I haven't.

He grins at me again. "All right. I'll be back tomorrow. If you need anything else, call me. I'm the new sheriff in town." His eyes are all sparkles and they are burning into me. I grin back up at him. "All right. Thanks." He steps out the screen door and closes it gently behind him, then turns to flash that grin at me once more before heading down the stairs. His footsteps are quiet, nearly inaudible compared to the elephant stomps of most men who come up to visit me.

I close the heavy wooden door, my head still swimming. Did that really just happen? Suddenly I need to eat, badly. It is as though food is the only route back to reality. I return to the kitchen and set pasta to boil on the stove. While I am waiting, I pace back and forth in the kitchen. Why do I feel so strange? There is electricity buzzing around me and the air feels altered, as though I've tried to come out of a trance state too quickly. What effect has this man had on me?

The pasta is done. I carry the pot carefully to the sink and drain the boiling water. The steam rises and fogs the window, and I find myself peering out at the building next door. The stained glass windows of the basement glow blue and orange against the darkness, and I think I can see the shadow of the basement dweller moving about within. I stand for a moment, transfixed, until there is too much fog to see.