Beyond the Black Curtain

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Ever moved the phone to the floor next to the warm glow of the gas heater, as was her habit during winter months, and sat down as though to stay a while. She dialed the number which was by now committed to memory. One ring, two, three, and the machine picked up. The outgoing message was committed to memory, also.

“I’m unable to come to the phone right now. Please leave a message and I’ll call back...”

That was all. She anticipated the beep, already prepared to set down the receiver, but the beep did not sound. The OGM continued.

“Ever, if it’s you, please don’t hang up. Leave a phone number and we’ll talk...”

The personalized message scared her and she hung up immediately.

***

One week later, out of nothing more than curiosity, she called again to see if the message had been changed or augmented. To see if he’d given up on her. It picked up on the second ring, but it wasn’t the machine.

“Hello?”

Ever hesitated and hung up, her heart lodged somewhere in her throat. His voice was so unexpected after all this time and the comfortable anonymity of the machine. She didn’t actually want to TALK to the man. Did that mean she wanted to talk to a machine? That was absurd...but no more absurd than repeatedly calling to listen to the recorded message. No more absurd than dialing the man’s number and hanging up in his ear simply because he answered.

It was childish behavior and she knew it. Why had she kept dialing his number? She probably really did want to talk to him. Dinner. That was all he’d proposed. There was no one in her life. No reason not to accept a dinner invitation. Well, certainly no reason she couldn’t at least hold a telephone conversation with the man. Hanging up on him was plainly rude. She should stop this nonsense, call back immediately and apologize.

Yes. That’s why she was now on her feet, clear across the room, staring at the phone as though it might somehow sprout legs and pursue her. That’s why she turned her back and went to the kitchen for a suddenly much needed glass of wine. She was sipping from the glass as she returned to the living room in search of her cigarettes, having already made a firm, if unconscious, decision not to call him again.

The phone rang just as she raised the lighter to her cigarette. Her thumb slipped off the lever, suffocating the flame. The phone rang again, as though in defiance of Ever’s accusing stare.

Of course, it was ridiculous to suspect it could be him. He did not have her number. Actually, hardly anyone had her number. She led the most anonymous of lives and phone calls were rare – except from telemarketers. They all had her number, even if they did call her by a name that was no longer really hers. But that was one of the hazards of calling from old lists. She ought to know. After all, she was one of their breed. The phone rang again.

Oh well. The diversion would be perfect just now. The sound of another human voice. She took a moment to light her cigarette before crossing back to the phone, now on the fourth ring.

“Hello?” she said, half hopeful it was someone familiar who had remembered her, and half fearful it was a stranger encroaching on her private existence.

There was a minute pause. “Is this Ever?”

Ever’s heart jumped into her throat again.

“Hello?”

“Yes,” she said in a near whisper.

“This is Stroud.”

“Stroud,” she repeated, knowing yet not quite comprehending.

“You’ve been calling me.”

The ash from her cigarette was getting dangerously long. She glanced around. The ashtray was on the dining table. If she hung up now, she could probably reach it in time.

“Please don’t hang up.”

“I never gave you my number,” Ever said, more to herself than Stroud.

“I have Caller ID,” he said.

Caller ID. She’d heard about that, but it wasn’t a thing that people actually used, was it? Apparently it was. Perhaps she should have her phone disconnected altogether. Or at least find a way to afford an answering machine.

“I hope you’ll forgive the presumption,” he continued, “but this mysterious number has appeared repeatedly. I had my suspicions, but I wasn’t sure. When you called just now and hung up, I decided to take the initiative.”

“I see,” Ever muttered. She had to move now, or clean up the mess later. She wedged the receiver between her ear and shoulder and walked the phone over to the dining table.

She missed the ashtray by one inch, depositing a small column of ash on the oak table top. She stared at it in muted distress then realized she’d left her wine glass on the floor by the heater.

“It’s probably better this way,” Stroud was saying as Ever carried the phone, ashtray, lighter and cigarettes back to the wine, wondering if her instincts about the implications of his remark were correct. She sat down on the floor near the warmth of the blue/gold flames, her security blankets around her like a protective wall. She swallowed some wine and cleared her throat.

“Are you there?”

“Yes. Sorry.”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d call,” he admitted.

“Well, you gave me your card.”

“I’m glad you kept it.”

Ever sighed softly. “I confess, I did call before.”

“There were no messages.”

“I didn’t leave any.”

“You’re one of those people who hate message machines,” he guessed.

“No. That’s not it. I just...”

There was a pause.

“You were reluctant to contact me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You’re a complete stranger.”

Stroud chuckled softly. “I’d like to change that.”

Ever didn’t know what to say. Her hand was damp around the receiver.

“I’d like to take you to dinner,” he said.

“Yes. You mentioned that.”

“Would you like to?”

“I suppose dinner would be alright.”

He laughed again. “Well, I hope we can converse a little, too.”

Ever huffed softly, relaxing slightly. “I know it seems like I’m being a little...”

“Cautious?”

“Yes.”

“What woman in this society cannot afford to be cautious these days?”

“None,” Ever answered.

“I understand. It seems a little abrupt. A strange man accosts you under unusual circumstances.”

“Not so strange,” Ever allowed.

“Well, thank you for that.”

Ever smiled slightly.

“It’s just that sometimes, when an opportunity presents itself, one must simply seize the moment.”

You are so very right, Ever was thinking.

“Are you free Friday night?”

“I think so,” she said, knowing so.

“We can meet for a drink. Then, if we feel like it, we can go somewhere to eat.”

“Alright,” she heard herself say.

“Good. Perhaps you can suggest somewhere convenient for you.”

It would have to be somewhere very convenient. Ever didn’t own a car and she seldom ventured out alone after dark. But somewhere local would mean inviting him into her territory. She had no idea where he lived, but it was safe to assume it was nowhere near her neighborhood. Of course she didn’t have to give him her address if they were going to meet somewhere. But where? What kind of place nearby would be suitable to meet a man like J. Stroud?

She mentioned the name of a place downtown she’d seen but never been to. There was a bar and, as it turned out, a restaurant.

“That sounds fine,” he said.

“Is it too far for you to come?”

“No. Give me the address.”

Ever paged quickly through the phone book for the address and read it to Stroud.

“Seven o’clock?” he suggested.

“Seven thirty,” Ever said.

“Fine. I’ll see you then.”

“Yes,” Ever said, feeling suddenly weak.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Stroud said.

“I realize I don’t know your first name,” Ever said suddenly.

“Stroud is fine,” he replied. “Friday, seven thirty,” he affirmed and they hung up.

Ever’s wine glass was drained and there were three crushed cigarette butts in the ashtray. You’re mad, she thought to herself. Stark raving mad.