True Heroes (18 page)

Finally moving to gather his pack, Caleb smiled. “Unconventional is the way to go with me. I’m in. Just give me the address and time and I’ll be there with a bow on my head.”

A chuckle filled the room emanating from Marion’s strong lungs. “Eight o’clock tonight.” She scribbled something down on a corner of a random paper and ripped it off for Caleb’s use. “Come to that address there, and don’t bother with the bow. Just bring your mind and your body.”

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Humming to a stop, Caleb’s car turned off about a block away from his destination. ‘I don’t know why she whistled at my house. Unless she lives in the servant’s quarters for this community, her house will be as big as mine.’ He checked his phone for time before shutting it off and sliding it into the cup holder while exiting the car. ‘Spring will be here soon.’ He sighed at the realization and frowned at the snow that was melting rapidly at his feet. ‘It’s getting sticky at night. Winter is the dry time of the year, but spring is a humid mess. Lake rains are already gathered, planning their attack on sunny days ahead. Start diging your flood trenches, people.’ He detected his surroundings while glancing between door numbers and his varied footpath. ‘The snow’s non-existent on the grass.’ Remnants of ice and snow drifts peppered the sidewalks and roads, but the grass was completely free of powder. As he turned the corner to Mrs. Drit’s street, he leaned down and felt heat coming from the trimmed, tamed blades. ‘A heating system? Wow. I guess when there’s nothing else left to spend money on, buy something stupid.’

Caleb smiled and continued walking with an unraveled  focus. ‘I hope this is the wrong neighborhood. I really, really hope she didn’t buy heated grass…. Speaking of, how does a teacher afford these digs? Must have a rich husband. Why am I here? What’s compelling me to join yet another club? Why the hell am I thinking so much about it? Whatever. If you don’t like it then back out. Simple as that.’ He glanced at a mailbox and saw the number she’d written down for him and turned to gawk at his destined arrival. ‘White, plain house…as boring as a statue. Probably took a while to chisel, but whoopty-doo in the end. Even the front door barely stands out from the rest of the frame thanks to a huge leprechaun sticker someone decided to honor St. Patrick’s Day with a week early.’ Trims and siding varied through shades of white and grey with the short chimney and few exposed shingles looking dormant and neglected from below. Taking a deep breath, he began to trek the walkway and let his nervousness slide away. ‘What could go wrong?’

His shoes ran across the brush on the top step before he rang the momentous-sounding gong that was the doorbell. In the second that followed, Caleb exhaled while releasing his power just slightly to remove any remnants of nervous emotions before the door opened and a smiling Mrs. Drit greeted him. “Welcome to my domain.”

Caleb smiled and quickly retracted his power. “Heated grass?”

She smiled and began talking fast. “Free service of the community. I never could turn down free things. C’mon in.” She stepped to the side and allowed Caleb to submerge into the overwhelming sensory experience that was her foyer. His ears were captivated by a distant music that didn’t seem familiar to him, his eyes were almost blinded by the rainbow splatters of color across a rotundus ceiling atop a circular fixture that aimed light towards the colorful explosion, his nose was guessing away at the perfume his teacher currently emitted, his mouth was tasting the food in the air and having a hard time of deciding whether to salivate or go dry, and his skin was now focused on the hand on his shoulder as his teacher pushed by. Caleb studied the rest of the room—‘Picture of man about her age on table,’—before hearing Marion’s voice. “Take your shoes off and grab a seat. Dinner shall be ready in a moment or two.”

Caleb didn’t move too fast. Exiting the foyer, he came to a narrow hallway that widened into a grand room up ahead. The floor was carpeted with a blue, flat material, but the faint echoes of wood could still be heard underneath. There were more frames full of the same man on the wall, one painting Marion and he in wedding attire. Just as he solved that mystery, the woman came into the hallway with her hands wringing themselves in front of her body. ‘High-heels under a splurge of purple and red sewn into a dress. Surprising, but not unpleasant at all.’ Despite its beauty—‘Especially considering who’s in the dress,’—the garment came dangerously close to being provocative. Her neckline dipped down to near cleavage level and the bottom was only slightly shorter than her skirt at lower-thigh level. She had noticed his quick, observing eyes and moved forward with a bright smile and a look as dangerous as her dress. “Looking at something?”

Caleb chuckled and scratched at his neck in a sudden spike of anxiety. “I was just noticing how lovely you looked tonight. You should wear that to school someday.”

Her smile grew after a short laugh. “Nope, this is only for special occasions.”

“What’s the occasion?”

Her head turned so the right side of her face was clear under the dim light. “Business after dinner. I believe that’s the proper way to do things.” She extended her hand towards him in an open fashion. “This way.”

Caleb—‘Wait…too late go with it,’—took her hand and was lead into the sizable dining room. On the way, he’d looked down. ‘No wedding ring. Small indent though.’ That clue locked itself away as they went through a cave-like opening in the wall and arrived at their destination. She left to bring the food into the big, red area while Caleb extended his power to listen throughout the house. Besides the racket in the kitchen, there was no one else in the home. “Divorced maybe? Killed the husband and used his blood to paint the walls of this room?” A narcissistic smirk over his brand of humor spurned while his power faded. ‘The red really is that shade and clashes with the blue carpet and yellow ceiling. Ah, your talents do have an end to them Marion. Never decorate another room, please.’

A struggling at the door caught his attention, moving him quickly to help the woman juggling food in her arms. He smiled widely after setting everything down—‘Two lit candles,’—and noticed exactly what they were eating: two foot-long sub-sandwiches with freshly cooked turkey and ham, a bowl of potato chips, some celery and dip. A few short chuckles escaped him before he asked, “Is this like a romantic, candle-light dinner meets a half-an-hour lunch break?”

Marion laughed a few lines of a joyous chorus before regaining herself. “Well, I guess you’re not the only one that likes the unusual and unconventional. What do you want to drink?”

“Just water for me.”

She nodded quickly and backed out of the room. “Have a seat anywhere and dig in.”

Caleb did just that. He began with a handful of chips on his plate before grabbing one of the hot sandwiches and moving it to another empty spot gingerly. His hand shook away the painful heat as Mrs. Drit came back with his water and a large knife in a sheath. “Gonna kill me on an empty stomach?”

Another laugh exploded from her separated, whitened teeth. “No, that would just be cruel.”

She unsheathed the blade and carefully cut her sandwich while leaning next to where he was. Her perfume clashed with his meaty sandwich and gave his stomach a sickening sensation, and his heart a flutter. After that, the interest of the dinner was almost non-existent. They ate quickly and spoke very little between huge bites and sips of water and red wine, respectively. ‘We’re both nervous. We wanna impress one another. Her because she thinks I’m a thirty-something in a teen’s body and me because she deserves it. She’s so impressive. We could be friends outside of school. I want us to be. What does she want, though? Is she just sucking up for my future? That outfit flatters the entertainment of her interest in something, but there can’t be interest. She’s a teacher, stunning in every aspect and I’m just me. Damn it this chair is killing my back.’

After finishing their meals, Caleb followed her into the kitchen carrying what she couldn’t and rubbing his back with his free hand. It must have caught her attention at some point because she asked, sounding genuinely concerned, “Did that stupid chair hurt your back? I’m sorry it does that to a lot of people. I should’ve warned you. We’ll get started in the guest room so you can relax that spine a bit. I’ll pay you back for not telling you with a massage, sound good?”

“Sure,” an off-guard Caleb responded. Her hand was resting on his lower back as he set everything down, her fingers moving in small circles; by time he turned, he could do nothing to offer resistance. No thoughts or voices told him to stop and his power stayed nestled wherever it stayed and offered as little hesitation as he did to her roving hand.

That sample of warmth lead him into the living room and sat him down on a foot stool. She exited to the kitchen, and Caleb suddenly felt light-headed. Something in the air was weakening his limbs and making him feel exhausted. ‘Room looks like a Valentine’s Day theme gone wrong. What is that? Arms are heavy….’ The walls were a lighter shade of red than the dining room but stood as the only partial similarity you could make between here and the rest of the house. The carpet was rather thick, white shag from wall to wall with a few truffles of white material probably half way up his shin. All the furniture, including the stool his buttocks were melting to, was a bright, candy pink that appeared hazy because of the thick air. He took a deep breath to try and detect any kind of drug, but nothing came to mind. ‘Can’t think.’ He leaned back on the foot stool and stared at the white ceiling until all the clamoring from the kitchen stopped. Marion seemed to strut into the room as Caleb leaned up. In a low, drowsy voice, he attempted to spit out a question, “Are we gonna start whatever we’re going to start?”

Marion produced a deep smile and flashed eyes that Caleb didn’t care to notice in his lucid state. “I believe I owe you a back massage first.” She walked casually through the forest of shag and resituated his body and the foot stool so she was behind with him between her legs. Caleb couldn’t care less as her hands connected with his neck muscles first and moved in gentle kneads in eventuality to his lower back. Marion’s whisper accompanied the arrival. “Does that feel good?”

Something in her voice partially snapped Caleb out of his daze. “What are we going to talk about again?”

Marion’s hands moved with a curious motion up his back; it wasn’t quite gentle but not quite rough. The dual movement was just enough to give him a tingling sensation throughout his arms and neck. ‘Carol did that once….’ Her hands re-clasped his shoulders and gently pulled them until Caleb’s head was resting on her right breast. A state of shock came over him, mixing with the drugged air filling his lungs, offering no tools he could use to fight the lips of his teacher as they met his. One of her hands dipped under his chin and cupped his face while their kissing continued to dive deeper into a pool of lust. She pulled his body off the foot stool and onto the carpet while her tongue pierced his mouth and began feeling its way around in alienation. Her hands moved into his hair and grabbed hold while his fingers actually began feeling their way around her hips. As they lay side-by-side, a shout was coming from inside his head. It wasn’t enough to change the movement of his lips, but he then felt this eon of pleasure was turning to pain. The electricity between their lips began to sting his entire body like with images and feelings from other moments. ‘A blue star…Carol’s amazed look…the blank slate of snow helping us start something together…something new…something warm in the everlasting cold…Marion…. No, not Carol…this is Mrs. Drit, and she is not Carol.’

Sinking into his power slightly, Caleb pushed her away and quickly rose to his feet. She tried to follow but was cut down with his voice. “Mrs. Drit this isn’t right. You’re married and I have my girlfriend. And…and there’s just no justice to what we’re doing here. Trust me, if we were single I’d have a lot harder choice, but right now, in this life, there is no choice. There is no chance. I’m sorry.”

His teacher’s head was ducked down in total defeat. Caleb’s own guilt caused him to drop to a knee and put a hand on her shoulder, but she quickly pushed it away. “You don’t know what it’s like.” Her head began to shake and twitch as it looked up at him, a powerful look jumping from her face. She shocked Caleb by springing forward suddenly and hugging him with everything she had. He could hear her nose sniffling and feel the tears dripping onto his bare forearms before being startled again by her blood curdling shouts into his chest. “You don’t know what it’s like! To be second to a husband who’s never even around to complain to! To know that even though he’s a ghost he still matters more in this world than you do!” She pounded on his stout chest a few useless times before calming her volume slightly. “To know that every mistake you’ve made in your life has locked you in a hell where your every move makes you more and more insignificant. I’m the thing I’ve despised my entire life. I’m a second rate school teacher. I’m just like everybody else, and nobody gives a rat’s ass!” One of her hands reached up and gently caressed his cheek. “That’s why I needed you. You’re going somewhere in this world, Caleb, and I wa-needed you to take me with you. You’ve got everything going for you and will always have it that way, so tell me: how in the world could you know what I’m going through right now?”

Caleb moved his face out of her grasp and just sat back to gather his thoughts. ‘I…don’t know how to help her. This went to hell so fast. One second, everything was fine, calm, and even pleasant and the next, everything changed; everything took a turn for the worse even when I thought I was in complete control. What could I really say about failure and mean?’ His eyes still wandering for an answer near his venting teacher, he tried to spit out something resembling a response. “I don’t know what you’re going through, but…but we all start out with nothing.” The more he spoke and thought aloud, the more sense he was making to himself. “Maybe you’re still starting off. Maybe this isn’t where you’re meant to end up.”