“Yes,” I stammered, trying to digest everything she’d said.
“Thank you for calling The Farmington Penitentiary.”
Like my previous day’s mystery caller, I was so emotionally unbalanced upon hanging up, I had doubts I’d just spoken to a living, breathing human being.
With nothing but time on my hands, I plopped down on my well-worn couch and looked around for the TV remote. It was then I remembered how I had left for the pub with the television and lights still on. Now however, I realized both were off. I turned on the TV and VCR expecting to see images of the Tecumseh Motel massacre but the screen remained blank. I crawled across the floor to the entertainment unit, where I pressed the Eject button on the VCR. Again, nothing happened.
Where was the tape? I was sure I hadn’t taken it out of the machine. Then who had? I wondered.
I went to the phone and called the pub.
“Hello.”
“Dawn, it’s me—Steve, from the bar last night.”
“So you survived to see another day?” she asked playfully. “I was worried you might pull a Keith Moon or a Bon Scott—you know—the rock stars who choked on their vomit and died in the ‘70’s.”
“Yes, I got the reference,” I admitted, somewhat baffled how a girl so young would know such classic rock folklore. Before I could ask, she was telling me.
“I figured an old guy like you would remember them. A friend of mine is this huge music fan and he’s always telling me these morbid tales about bands my parents used to listen to.”
“Is this your boyfriend?”
“No, he hates music,” came the reply.
“So, this is the guy from the beach?” I ventured.
“Are you kidding?” she laughed. “He only likes techno music. No, this friend is much older.”
“How old?”
“I don’t know—thirty–five, thirty–six. You know—your age.”
“Ouch.”
“I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” she offered softly.
“I’m glad to hear that. Anyway, the reason I’m calling is to find out if you knew how I got home last night. Did someone call me a cab?”
There was a brief silence.
“You really don’t remember?”
“Wisdom usually comes with age, but from time to time alcohol kind of wrecks that notion.”
“I hope that’s the case because usually when I go home with a guy he remembers me in the morning.”
“You brought me home?”
“I didn’t trust the cabbie who showed up and didn’t think he would tuck you into bed like I could.”
It was my turn to pause.
“I’m pretty sure we didn’t,” I finally said, “but we didn’t . . .”
“What—get it on?” Dawn laughed. “I was lucky to get you through the front door and onto your bed. I’m not sure if you noticed or not but all your clothes were on when I left this morning.”
I was understandably confused. “Don’t you mean last night?”
“No, this morning. I had to work the day shift and figured I might as well crash at your place. I would have asked if it was okay but you were . . . well, not in a talkative mood, if you know what I mean.”
“I regret being such lousy company,” I said.
“That’s all right,” Dawn replied casually. “It was sort of fun playing mother hen for one night. Usually I’m the one passing out and being carried to bed. Unfortunately, I usually wake up naked.”
“Well, I also apologize for all the creeps who have taken advantage of you in the past.”
“You’re not mad that I didn’t take advantage of you, are you?”
“I’m furious,” I said sarcastically.
“Because that was a one-time thing. Next time, I’ll show you no mercy.”
“I don’t think there’ll be a next time.”
“Oh.”
I believed I heard dejection in Dawn’s voice. “What I meant was I don’t plan on drinking so much in the future.”
“Oh,” she said more enthusiastically. “So were you calling to ask me out or to see if I still respected you?”
“Neither, actually,” I said. “I’m trying to fill in a few blanks and apparently you’re the one person who can help me out.”
“You have to be quick. A bunch of businessmen are walking in for a late lunch.”
“Okay, here goes. How did you get into my house last night?”
“The front door.”
“Was it open?”
“No, it was locked. It took me five minutes to get the keys out of your pocket, because every time I tried you’d turn and say something funny like, ‘Hey, I’m not that kind of guy,’ or ‘You better stop before my neighbours call the police.’”
“Sounds like something I might say while inebriated,” I laughed. “So, when we stumbled into the house, do you remember if the lights were on or the TV was going?”
“No, everything was dark,” Dawn said immediately. “I fumbled for the switch inside the door and went from there.”
“But you’re sure the TV wasn’t on?”
“Positive. Now I’ve really got to go, Steve.”
“One last thing. After you put me to bed, did you watch any TV or put on a video?”
“You’re not asking me all these questions because you woke up and your TV was gone, are you? I didn’t steal it—I left everything just the way I found it.”
“The television is still here and I’m not accusing you of anything, I swear.”
“Good, because after you passed out, I was so tired I crashed in the spare room. I left for work this morning at seven,” she protested. “I even locked the front door when I left.”
There was nothing in her voice that made me think she was lying. I looked into the guest room and saw the outline of a petite body on the comforter. On the nightstand, I saw a gold watch.
“Do you want me to drop your watch off at the pub or would you rather pick it up here?” I asked.
“I knew I left it there. I feel lost without it,” Dawn admitted. “I get off at 3:30. Will you still be there?”
“I’m waiting for a long distance call from a high school friend I haven’t talked to since graduation. He’s supposed to call between 3:00 and 3:15, so drop by when you’re finished.”
“Are you sure? What if they call later and you start talking about your pimply-faced glory days? I wouldn’t want to interrupt you or anything.”
“This guy is very punctual and his present landlord is very strict about his phone privileges.”
“Then I’ll see you in a few hours.”
“Great,” I replied. “Before you go, Dawn, I’m sure you hear this all the time from your boyfriends