As night began to fall, the car was still there, so I decided to go over anyway. Perhaps it was just me being curious about who was visiting for so long, but I had waited long enough. I knocked and waited for her to come to the door. There was no answer, which worried me. I knocked again, and when there was still no answer, I turned the knob to see if the door was locked. It came open and I stepped inside to look around.
From the corner of my eye, I saw someone scurry across the room. My heart raced. Had someone come in here and done something to her? Were they still here? Looking around, I reached for the first thing I could lay my hands on, the pair of fire tongs by the mantle. The security light outside allowed only enough light for me to note that the poker was missing, but not enough to see around the rest of the room. I debated turning the light on, but thought the element of surprise might serve me better if there was an intruder.
My god, who was here and what had they done to Rain? My fear quickly turned to anger again as I rushed across the room toward the figure I had seen move into the darkness. Raising the long-handled tongs above my head, I once again called out to her while reaching for the nearby switch to flip the light on around me.
“Rain? Are you in here?”
“Jesus Christ, Jon!” she screeched, stepping out from behind the kitchen door with a fire poker raised above her head.
We looked at each another and slowly lowered our weapons in confusion.
“Why are you hiding behind the door?” I asked.
“Because someone was beating on my front door like they were trying to knock it down, and then I saw the doorknob turning. I grabbed the first thing I saw and ran behind the door. What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk to you.”
“And you just let yourself in when I didn’t answer?”
“Well, I saw a strange car here and then you didn’t answer. I thought something might be wrong.”
“It’s my car, Jon. I traded Grandma’s Volvo in for it.”
“Oh,” I replied, uncertain of what I should say next.
She took the tongs from me and put them and the poker back into place before looking at me with an exasperated expression.
“You can’t just come into my house like this.”
“I just wanted to talk to you, and then I thought something might be wrong. I told you that.”
“All right. I don’t want to talk, and I’m fine. You can go.”
“Rain, I think we could work this out if you would just talk to me.”
“I can’t trust you, Jon. You knew that loan was important to me, and you interfered.”
“I interfered so that you would get the loan because I knew it was important to you. How can you be mad at me for that?”
“Because I told you I didn’t want your help, and you went behind my back and did it. You even kept some very important information from me. Now I have a little over three weeks to come up with the money to pay off that lien or lose what I’ve worked so hard for.”
“Is that why you sold your grandmother’s Volvo and bought that crappy old Toyota Corolla out in the driveway?”
“Yes, and I’ll probably sell some more things before it’s over with, but that’s how it goes. I don’t need you to save me. I’ve never needed you or anyone else to save me, and I don’t want to be in your debt.”
“You mean like you are in debt with your ex-fiancé.”
“No, I don’t mean like that.”
“Are you sure, Rain? Because it sure seems like I’m paying for your mistakes with him.”
“That’s not fair. Don’t you dare try to psychoanalyze me right now. My entire life is in the crapper. My grandmother died, I broke off my engagement and am going to lose the clinic I worked hard to build, my aunt is still trying to take this property from me, and the one person who should understand how much pressure all that is putting on me is being a gigantic asshole.”
“Rain, I’m just trying to help.”
“Then help me. Stop putting all this pressure on me, and just go home. I need room to breathe. I need you to leave me alone. You cloud my head every time you come into my life.”
“Is that really how you see me?”
“Yes.”
I didn’t try to argue with her. If that was really how she felt about me, there was nothing else to say. Instead, I just turned and walked out the door, back to my truck, and left. I found myself pulling into the Green Apple, a bar that sounded much posher than it was. I sat at the long wooden counter in the dimly lit place inhabited by only a handful of drinkers and ordered a whiskey, then another, and so on until I lost count. When I was ready to go, I found myself facing the bartender, who didn’t mind overserving a guy desperately in need but refused to let me drive home.