A Whole New World

The sun was halfway down, causing blood-red and bright orange cascades in the sky, stretching out and fading the further it went, until the sky had passed that crystalline blue into darker hues. I had just finished my coffee, feeling the heat of the liquid course down my throat and hitting my stomach, radiating the heat outward. The advancing night around me was frigid, the breath pluming from my nose, dissipating into the chilly air. The wind had just calmed, decreasing from numbing gusts into slight puffs. I tossed my empty coffee cup into the nearest garbage can on the street, a badly dented and slightly askew metal receptacle. Around me, the town was filled with men, women, and children retreating from the cold into vehicles, stores, or nearby residences. My motel room was more than five miles away, a cheap motel on the outskirts of town. I disliked the thought of trudging through the streets for five miles, but my two friends whom I'd come here with were out doing whatever and didn't answer my calls. Sighing wearily, I resigned myself to the long walk.

My mind wandered, as it usually did, this time to the events that had brought me to this small town in which I strolled. I was a recently freed man, unshackled from a demanding, and manipulative girl named Brenda. Brenda was a 5'7", 114 pound redhead with a great body, but a bad personality. Brenda and I had been seeing each other for almost a full year of college, and had even gone so far as to live in an apartment together. She must've noticed my yearning for freedom around seven months later, because she got it in her head that she'd fake a pregnancy to keep me tethered. She doctored the pregnancy test, convincingly so, in fact, that I actually believed her. My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach upon hearing the news and seeing the faked test. Unfortunately, my conscience prevented me from running, and I unhappily accepted my fate. However, when she insisted that I be absent from her doctor's appointments, I grew suspicious, and after the fourth time, I waited until she left, and called the doctor she said she'd been seeing.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't have any appointments marked for the person you're asking about," the doctor admitted, "In fact, I know most my patients, and I've never heard of this woman you're talking about."

Thanking the doctor, I hung up and paced the small apartment I shared with Brenda, cursing the day I'd met her.

When she showed up an hour later, I pretended not to have any idea what was going on, playing the completely duped boyfriend.

"How's the baby doing?" I asked, feigning ignorance.

"Huh?" it took her a second to recover, but she did, "Oh, it's fine. All signs point to a healthy baby."

"That's great. Look, we should probably start getting some baby furniture. I saw some pretty nice stuff at the mall that would work."

"Shouldn't we wait until we know if it's a boy or girl?"

Backing her into a corner, I pressed on, "The furniture I saw was oak, good for either a boy or girl. I hope you like it, because I've already bought it. It'll be delivered within the week."

Her eyes grew wide, and she protested, "What? I wish you'd wait and let me go with you to see it before you go and buy it!"

"Don't worry, I know you'll like it. It's really sturdy, and it comes with one of those changing stations."

I kept on pushing, changing the subject a little to throw her off guard.

"Hey, didn't the doctor prescribe you any prenatal vitamins? We've got to make sure the baby stays healthy."

Blinking, she stammered, "Oh, uh, I must've left the prescription in the car."

I nodded, having expected this type of answer, "Oh, okay, well let's go get it filled. I need to get some water anyway. We're almost out."

For sure, she must have been feeling the noose tightening by then. She shook her head, "Not now, I'm feeling a bit tired. I'll go fill it tomorrow."

"Nonsense," I smiled, "We can get it filled now, and you can take a nap when we get back. I'd do it myself, but I don't think the pharmacy would fill it if you weren't there."

I kept on and on, and finally she was in a corner.

She suddenly shouted, "NO! Stop it, okay? I lied, I'm not pregnant! Just back off me!"

I admitted, "Yeah, I kind of figured that out. I called the doctor, and he's never even heard of you."

I really wasn't enjoying watching her squirm, not a lot anyway. And now that the lie was out, I wanted nothing more than to be free of her. I began packing my things while she followed behind, sobbing, apologizing profusely. I ignored her, just forging ahead. I could've kicked her out; I had every right to. However, it just seemed easier. I managed to get a dorm room again, moved my stuff into it, and went on with my life. Then one night, while I was sleeping peacefully for the first time, she began pounding on my door.

"Let me in!"

I sat up, still half asleep, "Go away, Brenda! It's over!"

"Damn you, let me in now!"

I dragged myself to the door and opened it. She made a move to come in, but I stopped her, "I didn't say you could come in. What the hell do you want?"

She pleaded, "I want you back."

"Haven't you done enough damage? Go find some other poor guy's life to fuck with. I'm done with you."

Her icy blue eyes brimmed with tears, "Please, I'm sorry. I was just desperate, and a friend of mine suggested that I try that. I just wanted you to stay."

Smiling humorlessly, I replied, "Yeah, and it worked out just great, didn't it?"

The first of her tears spilled down her freckled cheeks, and she cried out, "I'm sorry! Can't we talk about this? Just let me come in, and I'll make you feel better. I'll do whatever you want!"

Other guys might've jumped at the opportunity to take advantage of this situation. I just responded, "There's nothing to talk about. You screwed up bad, and you'll just have to deal with it."

Still convinced that she might have a chance, she asked, "Won't you just let me in for a few minutes? I'll do that thing you like. I'll put it all in my throat, and I don't care if it gags me. I'll let you do whatever you want to me."

It took a bit of willpower to stay focused on all the crap she put me through, but I managed just fine, "Brenda, it's too late. You really need to leave."

I shut the door in her face, and for once, she listened. I heard her stomp down the stairs, and I lay in bed, ignoring the arousal that her words had brought. I managed to get back to sleep. A month later, a few friends of mine suggested a vacation. They were talking about going hunting for a week, but I needed to stay close, since my next semester in college would be beginning in less than a week, so we settled on a nearby town, with access to the woods and a plentiful amount of game.

So here I was, plodding along, chilled to the bone, my coat doing little to protect me from the bitter nip of the February air, the sun below the horizon, dragging with it all the light. I was still so wrapped up in my memories that I didn't hear the car. It had apparently been following me for a block, and I jumped and whirled around when the driver honked the horn, the bleat reverberating off the closed shops. With the headlights glaring in my eyes, I couldn't see the driver, so I moved closer to the car. The passenger window went down, and the driver leaned across, calling out the open window. Her voice was throaty, rolling off her lips like silk, "Would you like a ride?"

I hesitated for a second, and then nodded, "Sure, thanks."

I opened the door and got in. The driver was rolling the passenger window up even as I closed the door, operating it from a set of switches on her door panel. The heat was rolling steadily out of the vents on the dashboard, and my chill gradually subsided. As my eyes again adjusted to the lack of light, I could see her better, dimly illuminated by the instrument panel in front of her. I could see that her hair was dark, either brown or black, wavy and short, barely past her slender shoulders. She wore a bulky parka, but I figured that her body was probably petite, considering her face and neck, and her jean-clad legs below the parka. I noticed that she appeared to fill her jeans nicely. Her eyes sparkled as they fixed briefly on mine.

"So," she began, "What are you doing out here in the cold, especially past sunset?"

I shrugged, "I was just walking back to the motel. I appreciate you picking me up, by the way."

She smiled, revealing a white set of teeth, mostly straight, "Don't mention it. It's dangerous to be out in the dark, you know? Are you just passing through town?"

Twice in a row, she'd mentioned the danger of being out past dark. I filed that in my mind, and answered, "I'm here with a few friends. We're supposed to be hunting, but they took off somewhere, so I decided to get a cup of coffee."

She nodded, "Do you like to hunt?"

I hesitated for a few seconds, and then decided to be honest, "No, not really. In fact, I usually shoot to miss."

She laughed, but it seemed not derisive, but appreciative, "I know the feeling. My father used to take me hunting, and he never told me, but he was the same way. I think he just liked being out there in the woods."

She grew quiet for a minute, and then asked, "Say, I know a bar that stays open for another couple hours. Do you want to grab a drink? I can drop you off at the motel after."

I considered the offer, and then decided to accept, "Sure, I can use a drink."

She continued to drive for a few more minutes, and then came to a stop next to a rustic lodge-style building with the typical neon beer-signs alit. She parked the car, and we both got out. As we entered the bar, the heavy aromas of beer, liquor, and stale smoke greeted us. The woman led me up to the bar, where I could now see that her hair was indeed dark brown, and her eyes a milk chocolate. Her lips were slightly pouty, complimenting her feminine cheekbones. She was almost as tall as me, about 5'8", and as she shrugged her parka off, I noticed that she was petite, with curvy hips, a generous bust, and long legs. She slung the parka onto the barstool and sat on it. It was then that I realized that I had no idea who she was. Was she a local, or passing through? I watched her curiously as she ordered a beer from the tap. She looked back at me, waiting for me to pick my poison, but it took me a second to snap back to reality. When I did, I cleared my throat and picked a beer not on tap. The bartender, a thin, bald man probably in his forties uncapped my choice and set it in front of me.

He looked at the woman next to me and asked, "You want me to set up a tab, Clara?"

She nodded, "Sure, Hank."

Hank looked from her, to me, and then back to her. He arched an eyebrow, "You picking up strays tonight?"

She smiled, "Oh, come on! He seems like a nice guy, don't you think?"

He chuckled, sounding more like a wheeze than a chuckle, "He better be."

With that, Hank went to tend to some of the few other barflies. Clara took a swig of her beer, and I was helpless but to watch her throat muscles work as the beer flowed down. Then she was looking right back at me, a small smile playing on her lips.

"You keep staring, I'll have to charge you a quarter per minute."

I jumped as if I'd been smacked upside the back of my head, "What? Oh, sorry. I was just thinking that I know nothing about you."

"I could say the same about you."

"I'm Lewis Creighton."

She raised her eyebrows in mock surprise, "Are you now? Where're you from, Lewis Creighton?"

"Jasper, North Carolina. I'm enrolled at college there."

"College, huh? What's your major?"

I admitted, "I'm not really sure at this point. Lately, I guess it's been Criminal Psychology."

She nodded, "That sounds pretty heavy. Honestly, it doesn't seem to fit you."

"You're right, it doesn't. Now, how about you?"

"I'm not in college."

I laughed, "No, what's your name?"

"I'm Clara Beckwith."

I took a long drink from my beer, trying to take care of a dry mouth. I never was really any good at talking to women. I managed, "Do you live around here?"

Nodding, she answered, "Yeah, about three blocks from here."

"I don't really understand; why'd you pick me up? You don't really even know me that well. I could be a killer, for all you know."

"Are you a killer?"

"No."

"Would you tell me if you were?"

"Probably not, if I was."

"Okay, so what good is wondering?"

I struggled to keep up, "So why did you pick me up?"

"Because you looked like you were cold."

"But I could be a killer."

Her eyes sparkled, "I thought we already went over this."

"You don't really know me."

"I do too. Your name is Lewis Creighton, from Jasper, North Carolina, enrolled in college there, majoring in Criminal Psychology, though you're not sure what you want to major in. You're here hunting with some friends. Does that about cover it?"

I sputtered, "Yeah, but you didn't know me when you picked me up."

"Well, how could I? I just picked you up."

"Exactly."

"So how could I learn anything about you if I hadn't picked you up? It's not like you'd just start answering questions walking out in the cold."

I was quickly falling behind in this conversation. I stubbornly continued, "I'm just saying, if you didn't know me from Adam, why'd you pick me up anyway?"

"Because I didn't know you from Adam, that's why. And what's Adam have to do with anything?"

"Huh?"

"I know a lot of Adams in this town. What do you have to do with Adam?"

I blinked dumbly. Were we even having the same conversation?

"Anyway, how could I learn anything about you if I hadn't picked you up?"

I may not be the smartest guy around, but I know when I should concede defeat.

"I guess you have a point."

We ordered another round, and as I took a swig, Clara continued, "Okay, let's turn this conversation around. How come you got in the car? You didn't know me. I could be a killer."

I laughed, "I don't see you as a killer type."

"Oh really? And I suppose you look like a killer?"

She was right. At 5'10", and 163 pounds, with short, brown hair and bluish eyes, I suppose I don't really fit the killer profile.

She asked, "What makes you think I'm not a killer?"

"Are you a killer?"

"No, but if I was, I most likely wouldn't tell you."

"So, then what do you do?"

"I work at the Veterinary Clinic."

"That doesn't sound like the dream job of a killer."

"Maybe it's a cover."

"Then should I fear for my life?"

"No, I'd much rather catch you by surprise. It's more fun that way."

This woman, who was over 21(considering that she could drink in this bar), but not by much, was by far more intriguing than any I'd ever encountered. For once, I'd met a woman with a personality as pleasant as her physical appearance was stunning. But for all our banter, I still knew little about her past that. I didn't realize that I'd fallen silent and had begun staring again until she reminded me.

"You're up to seventy-five cents, Lewis."

Grinning sheepishly, I managed, "Sorry."

She grinned back, "Well, I'll admit that it's pretty flattering. How long are you in town for?"

"Maybe a week, I guess. I think my friends will probably want to stay longer, but I've got to be back in time for next semester."

"Right, so you can continue to wonder what you'll major in."

I sensed a bit of disappointment in her reply.

Shrugging, I sighed, "I've got to learn how to catch killers like you."

"What, and ruin my fun? Talk about a buzz-kill!"

I laughed, "Believe me, I'm not eager to get back to all that drama anyway."

"Oh? What drama is that, college?"

"Um, I'd rather not get into it. It's kind of crazy."

"Come on, don't hold out. What drama are you trying to get away from?"

I confessed, "My love life."

Her smile slipped, "Girlfriend?"

"She was."

"What happened?"

I hesitated a second, and then answered, "She faked a pregnancy to make sure I didn't leave her."

Her eyes widened, "That's horrible!"

I agreed, "Yeah, well I think she might've flipped out, and got desperate. So my friends convinced me to come hunting with them, you know, to forget about all that for a while."

"I can understand that."

"Well," I was eager to change the subject, "Enough about that. So…have you killed anyone lately?"

We talked about less dramatic things, like movies. She shared a similar interest in movies, although she was more inclined to listen to country than to the types of music I listen to. Before I knew it, it was getting late, and the bartender interrupted to let us know that it was almost time to close.

"Drat!" she finished her beer, "Well, I guess we should go. You said you're staying at the motel?"

Feeling a little deflated, I nodded, "Yeah, the one at the edge of town."

She stood up and donned her parka, "Well, let's go then…unless…you'd like to come back to my place."

I suggested, "I could call my friends and tell them not to wait up…"

"Good," she smiled, "I'm not quite ready for tonight to be over."

I tried to call my friends, first one cell phone, and then the other, but they didn't answer. I left a message, telling them not to wait up for me, and hurried to catch up with Clara, who had abandoned her car.

"I don't want to get busted. Sheriff Cronin is a stickler for things like that."

We walked close together, still talking as we walked, sharing what warmth we could generate.

"I've spent my whole life in this town," Clara explained, waving her hand at the town, "I grew up in one house, even after my folks died. It's paid off, so it seemed a waste of time to leave."

"I'm sorry," I mumbled. It never seemed to be the right response for learning that one's family or friends are deceased, but it's always the first thing to come to mind.

"Don't be. I like the old place."

I had to stifle a laugh, "No, I mean about your parents."

"Oh. Yeah, they died about eight years ago. I was at work when I heard about it. They were hit head on in the car when a truck driver fell asleep at the wheel. The truck crossed into oncoming traffic, and they were right in the way. Sheriff Cronin told me they were killed instantly. I was old enough that I didn't get put in some crappy orphanage."

"Were you and your folks close?"

I could see in her tear-brimming eyes that they had been close. She nodded, "Daddy was always joking with me about all the boys he had to chase off. He said he ought to start setting out traps to get rid of them. Mom was the most patient person I knew. All the trouble I used to get into, some of it serious, and she never lost her patience with me. Well, it was tough for a while, but I'm alright now. How about you, are you close with your folks?"

I shrugged, "Not that close, I guess… my mom and dad split up when I was nine. My dad moved to Pennsylvania, and I really didn't have much to do with him after that. My mom worked full time at the Laundromat, and I barely saw her until late at night when she'd drag herself through the door, smelling of laundry chemicals, and go straight to bed. We scraped by, but without my scholarship, I wouldn't be able to afford college."

Clara listened as we walked, the growing wind snatching at our breath. When I had stopped talking and turned to stare at her again, she grinned, "You're at about a dollar and twenty-five cents now."

I laughed, "I can't help myself. It's something about your eyes."

"Yeah, right, my eyes. Okay, Lewis, you keep lying to yourself."

We stopped in front of this two-story, neatly maintained house with a chimney on both ends, blue painted exterior, a large, wrap-around porch, and a small patch of front yard.

"Wow," I breathed, "And it's all yours?"

She nodded, "I rattle around in there like a pea in a can, but yeah, it's mine."

"Seems like a perfect place to raise a family."