“Yes. And they found nothing. I doubt they are back to search for more of the same.”
“You’re not home. You said they like when you’re not home.”
“Yes. I said a lot of stupid shit. I’m sure you would’ve known by now if they were in the house.”
“They?”
“It’s a figure of speech. Don’t worry. I’m here. And there’s a baseball bat behind the door in the living door. Go there, get it, and make sure you clock someone if you find them in the house.”
Frantic, I look around the room.
There is no baseball bat. And I’m hiding behind the door. Emboldened by Raven’s words, Giana sets herself in motion.
All right…
I spin around, move away from the door, and crouch behind the couch. I can see my house from where I hide.
If for any reason something draws her to the windows, I’m done. There’s nowhere I could hide. And why isn’t the baseball bat where it’s supposed to be?
Giana searches for it.
“It’s not here, pumpkin.”
“What??” Raven retorts.
That’s not good.
“Yeah. It’s not. It smells good in your house, though.”
I’m livid. I bury my nose in my V-neck sweater. It smells like musk and pine trees.
“Like what?”
“Winter. Pine wreaths.”
“I don’t know why.”
“Air freshener?”
“I haven’t had one in months. Have you found the baseball bat?”
“No, I’m looking for it. It’s not here. Do you think it’s under the couch?”
“Never mind. It doesn’t matter. The issue is moot now. We’ve been talking for ten minutes. I doubt there’s someone in the house. Keep your eyes open and scream as loud as you can. I’ll call the police.”
“You have a way to make me feel at ease…” Giana murmurs, heading to the stairs.
I breathe out a sigh of relief and wipe away sweat from my brow.
Footsteps resonate upstairs while Giana walks into the closet. It doesn’t take long, and she returns, holding a hanger with a dress I’ve seen on Raven before.
There's urgency in her step. She can’t wait to get out of Raven’s house, and that’s the best news tonight.
She collects her things, doesn’t put them on––except for her boots––turns off the lights, and walks out.
A moment later, she locks the door, and tucks the key into the wall outside.
Still talking on the phone, she scurries away, and later I see her through the living room windows.
A tiny silhouette getting swallowed by the snow before vanishing in the car. She turns on the engine, flicks on the lights, and makes a U-turn.
I breathe properly when she’s no longer in my line of sight.
And then it dawns on me.
We were so lucky.
She didn’t even realize the door was unlocked.