I was feeling a bit nostalgic, remembering all the old days back in high-school. It was Lane that had brought them all back. I was still shocked that he had called me after all this time, what had it been, fifteen years now? He and I hadn't even been particularly close, at least not once we got out of grammar school. Our parents had been best friends, so we had been thrown together a lot as children, but once we had gotten older we both went different ways. I had joined a few of the after-school activities, like quiz-bowl, and FBLA, and the yearbook committee, and made friends among those groups. Lane, well, he wasn't in any extra-curricular activity that I knew of, and he wasn't a jock, or a nerd, or a prep. He was poor like me, and he was sort of invisible. I couldn't remember ever seeing him with any friends, or at any of the school functions. And after high school, he had just dropped off the face of the earth. I hadn't moved from my small town until just two years ago, so I had heard about everyone in our small class of seventy-four. Even Lane's mother didn't know where he had gone. I suppose that was another reason why I was so shocked to have heard from him. I sat by my phone in the office, a little impatiently. I had been late for an important meeting when he had called, and had asked him to call back. He said he would, but now it was past time for me to be gone, and he hadn't called back.
With a sigh, I stood up and put my coat on. My daughter would be home soon, and I didn't want to be too far behind her. She and I had been fighting a lot lately, and I thought maybe it was because I was spending too much time away from home. I took my keys out and was getting ready to lock up my office when the phone rang. For a second, I debated on answering. I had a deeply foreboding feeling about the call. I left the keys in the door and took the three short steps to the desk, then stood there with my hand on the phone. On the sixth ring, I picked it up. "Hello?"
"Hannah?"
Hannah banana! Hannah banana!
"Yes, Lane?"
"I'm here in Chicago, Hannah."
His voice was so different. He sounded cold and distant. "Oh?"
"I'm only passing through, but I need a place to stay that isn't a hotel."
Dread filled my stomach, but what could I say? "Of course you're welcome to stay the night at my house Lane, I have an extra bedroom."
"Good, I will see you this evening." click.
I stood stunned for a moment, then dropped the phone in the cradle. Not a hello, or how are you, he hadn't even asked where I lived. Why had I offered him my guest room? That was idiotic. I picked up the phone and dialed home, but there was no answer. Sophie probably wouldn't be home for another fifteen minutes. If I hurried, I could make it fifteen minutes after her. I hurried.
At least I tried to hurry. I got all the way down to my car, and realized I had left my keys hanging in my office door. I hiked the quarter mile back to my building, then back up the elevator to the thirty-sixth floor and made my way through the maze of cubicles to my office along the back wall. I jumped and gasped when I saw the man standing over my desk going through the drawers, but a second look told me he was a janitor.
"What are you doing?" I demanded storming in.
He jumped and dropped whatever he had been holding. He looked around at me as he shoved the drawer shut. "I...excuse me, I was just looking, I swear."
"Get out of here!" I demanded angrily as I entered the room. The man left at a run, and I picked up the phone and called security. It was another half hour before I was in my car and on my way home, and it was another half hour before I turned onto the street I lived on. Dread filled me again when I saw the primer gray pick-up truck in my driveway, but to my relief, Sophie was sitting on the front steps, scowling at me. She stood when I turned the engine off and hurried to the door.
"There's a man in our house, he said you invited him."
I stared at the front door in worry. "Soph, I want you to spend the night with Jenny tonight."
"Why? Who is that guy? He's scary mom."
"He's an old friend from school."
"Not one that I've ever met. He told me to be quiet."
"Lane left right after high-school. "
"You've never talked about him."
"Well, hon, to be honest, I hardly remembed him until he called today."
"He's creepy mom."
"It's good your staying with Jenny then isn't it?"
"You should make him leave mom. He looks like a serial killer."
"Don't be ridiculous. Lane and I were children together." But even as I brought the memories up, I remembered a quiet, somber boy who's favorite past-time was hiking through the woods. I did remember enjoying those hikes though. That was important wasn't it? I took a deep breath and got out of my Escalade. "Go pack Soph, and call Jenny."
Sophie ran ahead and I followed more slowly. Where was he? Why hadn't he come out to meet me? The bad feeling came back three-fold as I entered my house. I set my briefcase down by the door, hung my keys on the key-hook, and hung my coat up, all slowly and quietly, listening. At first, I heard nothing, then faintly, I heard talking. A man's voice. I followed the voice, not to the guest room, but to my room. I stood outside the door, listening quietly, but he was speaking to quietly for me to understand through the thick door. I took a deep breath and steeled myself before opening the door.
My first thought was that it wasn't Lane. The man was huge, and Lane had always been skinny. Not only that, but this man carried himself differently than Lane ever had. Lane had always hunched, and been closed in on himself, even to look at. This man stood tall with the confidence of ten men. Ten dangerous men. Lane turned and looked at me when I entered, but kept talking on his cell-phone. He had three large duffel bags, one open on the bed, and the other two sitting on the floor next to my bed.
"...won't be there until Monday. No. No." He was silent for a while after that, obviously listening. I could hear the buzz of the other voice on the line.
I took another step into the room as he looked me up and down casually. Even his face was different, and his unruly mop of curly brown hair was replaced with a shaved head. His dark eyes regarded me distantly as he listened.
"Lane..." I began, but he took one long quick stride and put his fingers over my mouth to silence me. I stepped back against the wall, and he followed, hovering close over me. He had been my childhood friend, but I was frightened of him now. I wanted to ease back out the door, but the way he had himself planted in front of me made moving all but impossible.
"I'll be there." he said finally, then flipped the phone shut. He looked down at me as he slid the phone in his pocket and planted his hand on the wall next to my head. He leaned in close. "You've not changed. Not at all."
"You have," I said faintly.
"That girl, is she your daughter?"
"Yes."
"She doesn't look like you."
"She looks like her fathers mother."
"More's the pity. Where is her father?"
"Vegas, maybe. I'm not sure. I... Lane, you.."
"Good."
"Lane, I was a little surprised on the phone earlier, perhaps I wasn't clear. The guest room is down the hall, you.."
He reached up and put his hand on my lips again. This time I got mad. "I never stopped thinking about you Hannah. Not even after I left."
That shocked me. "O-oh?" I stammered, unsure of how I should respond.
"No. You never thought of me though, did you? No one even noticed when I left."
"Of course we did. We asked your mother but she didn't know either, at least she said she didn't."
"We?"
"Well, I. I asked."
"Was she sober?"
I looked down at the ground. His gaze was too intense, and I was ashamed for him. He lifted my face back up so I was forced to look at him. "No, I don't think she was."
"She wasn't sober the last time I called either."
"Lane..., Lane, your mother died last year. There was an accident. The firemen said she probably fell asleep with a lit cigarette. The whole trailer burned to the ground"
His expression hardly changed. There was no grief in his eyes. If anything, his look became harder. I was more afraid now than I had been. What sort of man didn't care that his mother had died?
"Look Lane, maybe this isn't a good idea, I think maybe.." His hand came back up, his fingertips pressing against my lips.
"It is my plan to leave in the morning, early."
"All right Lane, but this is my room. The guest room is down the hall."
"I am aware of the location of your guest room Hannah, and I am also aware of where I will be spending my night. Did you send the girl away?"
My stomach clenched. "She is leaving..." I answered slowly. "Why... what... um. What brings you into town Lane?"
"Business, Hannah.," he said planting his other arm on the other side of my head and leaning in closer. "So you became an architect."
"Yes, what... what do you do Lane?" I was still terrified, but trying to act calm. Was he trying to scare me? Why was he so intense?
He cocked his head slightly as he looked down at me, his gaze taking all of me in. I felt myself blushing as the seconds passed and he didn't answer my question. When he finally spoke, it was obvious he had forgotten my question completely. "So this is what you've dreamed of all your life? A perfect house, a little girl, a perfect job, two cars and a dog? Do you have everything you hoped for Hannah?"
There was condescension in his voice, and I felt sick. He actually sounded disgusted with the normality of my life. "I'm happy," I answered finally.
