In the Dark

Since I had no bags I moved quickly to the Taxi stands. I didn't have a driver's license so I couldn't rent a car. I did have the passport I was given in Japan so I was able to get a room for a couple of nights.

Since it was 11:00 at night, I waited until morning to dial my old home phone number. The lady who answered told me she had gotten the number three years ago, but did get occasional calls for Ken, and some guy named Diego.

I next called Ken's work number to find that it belonged to some used car lot. The man said he had never heard of Emerson and Sons and told me that if I wasn't looking for a Dodge to go fuck myself.

The last number I tried belonged to Sandra and Dale. I got a woman speaking Thai and I just about had a panic attack. I then realized I was getting nowhere on the phone and decided to hire a car for the day.

The hotel concierge lined up a car for me and off I went. My first stop was a bank to cash my draft and convert it to American Dollars. After I had my money, I had the driver take me past Ken's office. I was shocked to see a movie theater complex standing where his office building had been. The driver told me that they had built the theater about five years before.

Then I had the driver take me to my old neighborhood. I recognized my street right away. All of the houses were still there and the same old Ford pickup was parked in front of John Willis' house. The biggest shock came when we drove past my house.

It wasn't the Mustang in the driveway or the rusty Honda motorcycle on the lawn, although both went fully against Ken's taste. It was the Mexican flag hanging in the window that made me despair.

I couldn't tell anything from Dale and Sandra's house so I had the driver take me back downtown where I spent the afternoon trying to get my legal status in the US cleared up. Once that was done I went and got my driver's license. Through a quirk in the system my license had only been expired for three months so I was able to pay a fine and get a new one. From there, I went and bought a cheap reliable Kia from a used car lot and went back to the hotel to rest.

That evening after dinner I drove to my neighborhood again. Now there was a low rider Lincoln in my driveway. I saw lights on in Dale and Sandra's house so I went and knocked on the door. An African American lady answered the door and asked if she could help me. I told her who I was and told her that I had lived next door.

She told me that she and her husband had owned their house for six years. She said the house next door was vacant when they moved in and the Gonzales family had only moved in there four years ago. She had no clue as to where Dale or Sandra lived now.

"I never met them. They moved about six months before Sherman and I bought the house. I had heard of some misfortune with their kids or something."

I thanked her for her time and walked to my former home and mustered up the courage to knock on the door. I wondered what had happened to Sandra and Dale, or to Jeff or Shane. Shane had been two years older than Jeff and was enrolled at Stanford when I was here last.

I was about to knock a second time when a young woman answered the door. I explained to her that I had lived there before and was wondering what had happened to everyone. She was brushing me off and almost had the door closed when an older man came to the door and shooed her away saying something to her in Spanish.

I retold my tale as he listened, then something flashed across his face.

"I know who you are. Please wait here." he said as he closed the door. About a minute later he reappeared with an envelope in his hands. "Darlene Ingalls it says on here. It was on the mantle when we bought this place with instructions to give it to you if you came by."

I thanked him and returned to my hotel for the night. When I got in, I opened the envelope. There was a business card from with the name and address of a self-storage business in San Jose along with the number of the storage unit written on the back. There was also a note in a woman's scrawl stating that the combination to the lock was my birthday.

I laid awake until three in the morning trying to figure out how I was going to find Ken so I could prove my worth to him, and wondering what had happened to Dale and Sandra's family.

At nine AM I found myself standing in front of Bollard Self Store unit number 365 dialing my birthdate into the combo lock. I was surprised when I opened the door and saw just how much was in there. There were boxes stacked to the roof along the back of the unit, and they tapered down to just a few items near the door.

Nearest to the door was the dining table that my grandfather had built for my mother when she married my daddy. It was perhaps my most cherished possession. On the table were three things; a large manila envelope, a bottle of pinot noir from a small Napa Valley winery, and a pair of panties.

I picked up the panties and recognized them as mine. They had the initials "D I" embroidered on the front panel. I had owned three such pairs, one blue, one gray, and one pink. This was the pink pair. I looked at the bottle of wine and for the life of me couldn't recall it.

Finally I opened the envelope. Inside was my copy of the divorce paper work and a cashier's check for $15,000 with a sticky note on it. The note was written in the same scrawl as the writing on the back of the business card explaining to me that the check was my share of the proceeds from the sale of the house and my car, plus my share of our savings.

My first thought was that Ken had let the car and house go for next to nothing for my cut to be so low. When I looked at the divorce decree I saw that Ken had originally offered to give me 5 percent of everything. The judge had rejected that and amended it to 10 percent. I figured they did that because I wasn't here to fight.

Three days later I had an apartment in Sacramento and was looking for a job. I was writing an interview appointment down in my calendar when the date struck me. I knew how I could find Ken without having to spend all of my money on a private investigator.

Ken's uncle Jerry was a pilot. Every year he competed at the Reno air race. Ken and I had gone every year to support him. That was how I came to find myself casino hopping on Friday night, hoping to see some member of the family.

Saturday morning I made my way to the airfield. Since I wasn't with Ken I had to stay in the audience area. I felt a wave of joy wash over me when I heard the announcer call Jerry Ingalls for his race. When the race was over I saw where Jerry parked. My heart caught in my throat when I saw Ken.

Ken and his Aunt Bonnie greeted Jerry as he got out of the plane. About that time two little girls ran up to them. As sudden realization washed over me that they were Ken's daughters, a voice from my past spoke from behind me. It was the voice of my long lost sister Louise.

"I see you're out of prison. You know, he felt bad that you were sentenced for such a long time. He only intended for you to get five years so he could divorce you without losing everything to your cheating ass. At least you made out better than your lover"

Suddenly the voice of my sister seemed to be coming from a long tunnel. The clues from the storage unit became crystal clear. The pink panties were the panties Jeff had ripped off of me during out first tryst.

"Somehow Ken found the panties and found out about Jeff and I." HE SET ME UP!" My mind reeled but I managed to hear my sister's parting words.

"We are happy Dar Dar. I won't let you back into our lives. Our daughters don't and won't know that you even exist. Leave now and let's avoid a scene, eh dear sister?"

Dar Dar, avoid a scene, dear sister. As she said these things the meaning of the wine in the storage unit struck me like a speeding truck.

Right before I met Ken, I was with a guy named Greg. Greg and I had dated on and off since our sophomore year of high school. During our off times Greg occasionally dated Louise. A month before I met Ken, Greg asked Louise to marry him. I was devastated when she told me.

A few days after breaking the news of her engagement to me, Louise came to my apartment with a bottle of pinot noir from that same winery and we spent the evening drinking it.

Even the storage unit was a clue. Bollard Self Store. Two years before I met Ken I was dating an old family friend named Hugh. Hugh and I had been engaged since our junior year of high school. The night of our senior prom Hugh and I got into a fight.

I smiled nice for the photos, I greeted everyone sweetly, I even sold Hugh on my façade of happiness. But every time Hugh would pull me close, he'd get an earful of poison. He got tired of hearing about it at one point and snuck out the back of the gym to sneak a drink with his buddies.

One of the girls in our class was dating a boy from San Jose named Frank Bollard. He wasn't the best looking guy there but she seemingly had abandoned him, so I pounced. I decided that if Hugh was going to be a dick, I was going to enjoy the night.

I danced a few dances with Frank. When Hugh had not returned by 11:30, I asked Frank for a ride home. First Frank dropped off Kelly Munroe, the girl he had come with, and then asked me if I was truly ready to go home. I told him I'd rather do other things.

"Other things" is how Hugh discovered Frank and I in the back of Frank's El Dorado, naked and sweaty behind the old drive in theater. Hugh beat Francis up and told me we were through. As far as I know Hugh never said a word to anyone. No one in school ever knew why we broke up. Louise was the only one who ever knew about Frank and I.

I looked back toward the hangar but three planes had pulled in blocking my view of Jerry's plane. I turned to speak to my sister only to find she had disappeared into the crowd. I made an attempt to enter the tarmac but a quite large policeman denied my entrance.

I knew from past experiences that the pilots and crews left from a different gate than the public. I went to my car and tried to go to that gate, but the police had the roads blocked to maintain security for the racers.

I tried again in vain on Sunday to see Ken. I even tried to sneak through a gate behind a concession stand. A group of three officers escorted me to my car and told me not to come back or I'd be arrested. I drove back to Sacramento knowing that I had never done anything to deserve the hell I was put through.

Ken was a vindictive animal and I called several lawyers to see if I could have him charged for doing this to me. All of them told me I'd need irrefutable proof and I knew I couldn't get that without spending money I didn't have on investigators.

A search of the internet turned up information on Jeff. Less than a year after I was imprisoned he enrolled at San Jose State and moved into an apartment near campus. Six weeks after school started three girls accused him of rape. The prosecution had DNA evidence and Jeff had no solid alibi. He was shanked in a shower while awaiting trial.

I'd had money, a great house, a nice car, and all of the clothes and jewelry a woman could ask for. I'd had a man who adored me, great friends and a face and body that made men tear neck tendons trying to get a look at me. Now I endure looks of revulsion due to the toll that the prison beatings left on my face.

I'd gone from a great neighborhood in a suburb of Oakland to a semi decent apartment in Sacramento. Of course it was better than my accommodations during my stay in Thailand. Some would say that I brought it all on myself. I, however, don't feel my small indiscretion warranted the loss of everything dear to me. Ken got to set me up and leave me with very little money while he was free to set up a new life with my sister, and I'm here bringing plates of meatloaf to grouchy tourists.

FIN