My folks wanted to watch the news. It was their bedtime ritual. But I nixed that idea and hid the TV remote control. No good would have come of them seeing me branded a criminal on all four network affiliates, even my own.
Finally, I had time to shower away the smell of jail. I warned my mom and dad not to answer the telephone or the door while I was upstairs. I wished some special soap was invented that could wash away humiliation, or at least the vulgar image of that intoxicated inmate vomiting next to me in the holding cell.
A half hour later, I wrapped a towel around my head, threw on my frizzy bathrobe, and went to check on my parents. Dad was reading what few car ads remained in the newspaper.
“Where’s Mom?”
“She went out to the pickup to get her sweater.”
I wished she’d stayed inside, away from possible paparazzi. But through the window, it looked like all the live trucks had pulled cable and left, now that the newscasts were over. So the path to the curb was probably clear for her.
I was just filling a glass when suddenly we heard a scream that sounded like Mom. Then another scream that didn’t. I dropped ice cubes on the kitchen floor as I rushed outside. Mom stood empty-handed in the driveway. I speculated that someone might have grabbed her purse. Dad followed seconds later because of his bad knees.
“A tall man,” she said. “He jumped out at me.”
“What did he look like?” I asked.
“It was dark. I couldn’t see. He was really tall.”
“Where did he go?”
She pointed down the block. “He said we had unfinished business.”
I wondered what he meant. And then I wondered if, perhaps in the dark and because I lived alone, he’d mistaken my mother for me.
His next actions made his intentions and identity clear.
“Then he turned on a flashlight and pulled down his pants,” Mom said.
“He what?” I asked.
“It was like he wanted to show me his … you know.”
Any guy who’d walk naked in front of a live television camera would think nothing of flashing a woman on a street corner. But this was my mother, so Buzz was going to hear plenty from me.
“It wasn’t anything special,” she said. “I’ve seen many men over the years.”
“Don’t say it like that, Mom. You sound like a prostitute.”
She was a retired hospital nurse, dating back to the days when they wore white caps.
“Well, it wasn’t anything special,” she insisted. “You’d think such a tall man would have a bigger—”
“Mom, I don’t want to hear about it.”
“Then he shined the light in my face, and that’s when he started screaming, too.”
Buzz must have been watching the news, elated that all the channels reported which corner I lived on and showed what my house looked like. I could only imagine his dismay when he realized his throbbing manhood was face-to-face with someone old enough to be his grandmother.
All Dad could muster was, “It could have been worse.”
And he was right. I had a nagging suspicion that Buzz Stolee might not be the only thing lurking in the dark, waiting for me.