The Crush

I was feeling a bit nostalgic, remembering all the old days back in high-school. It was Lane that had brought them all back. I was still shocked that he had called me after all this time, what had it been, fifteen years now? He and I hadn't even been particularly close, at least not once we got out of grammar school. Our parents had been best friends, so we had been thrown together a lot as children, but once we had gotten older we both went different ways. I had joined a few of the after-school activities, like quiz-bowl, and FBLA, and the yearbook committee, and made friends among those groups. Lane, well, he wasn't in any extra-curricular activity that I knew of, and he wasn't a jock, or a nerd, or a prep. He was poor like me, and he was sort of invisible. I couldn't remember ever seeing him with any friends, or at any of the school functions. And after high school, he had just dropped off the face of the earth. I hadn't moved from my small town until just two years ago, so I had heard about everyone in our small class of seventy-four. Even Lane's mother didn't know where he had gone. I suppose that was another reason why I was so shocked to have heard from him. I sat by my phone in the office, a little impatiently. I had been late for an important meeting when he had called, and had asked him to call back. He said he would, but now it was past time for me to be gone, and he hadn't called back.

With a sigh, I stood up and put my coat on. My daughter would be home soon, and I didn't want to be too far behind her. She and I had been fighting a lot lately, and I thought maybe it was because I was spending too much time away from home. I took my keys out and was getting ready to lock up my office when the phone rang. For a second, I debated on answering. I had a deeply foreboding feeling about the call. I left the keys in the door and took the three short steps to the desk, then stood there with my hand on the phone. On the sixth ring, I picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hannah?"

Hannah banana! Hannah banana!

"Yes, Lane?"

"I'm here in Chicago, Hannah."

His voice was so different. He sounded cold and distant. "Oh?"

"I'm only passing through, but I need a place to stay that isn't a hotel."

Dread filled my stomach, but what could I say? "Of course you're welcome to stay the night at my house Lane, I have an extra bedroom."

"Good, I will see you this evening." click.

I stood stunned for a moment, then dropped the phone in the cradle. Not a hello, or how are you, he hadn't even asked where I lived. Why had I offered him my guest room? That was idiotic. I picked up the phone and dialed home, but there was no answer. Sophie probably wouldn't be home for another fifteen minutes. If I hurried, I could make it fifteen minutes after her. I hurried.

At least I tried to hurry. I got all the way down to my car, and realized I had left my keys hanging in my office door. I hiked the quarter mile back to my building, then back up the elevator to the thirty-sixth floor and made my way through the maze of cubicles to my office along the back wall. I jumped and gasped when I saw the man standing over my desk going through the drawers, but a second look told me he was a janitor.

"What are you doing?" I demanded storming in.

He jumped and dropped whatever he had been holding. He looked around at me as he shoved the drawer shut. "I...excuse me, I was just looking, I swear."

"Get out of here!" I demanded angrily as I entered the room. The man left at a run, and I picked up the phone and called security. It was another half hour before I was in my car and on my way home, and it was another half hour before I turned onto the street I lived on. Dread filled me again when I saw the primer gray pick-up truck in my driveway, but to my relief, Sophie was sitting on the front steps, scowling at me. She stood when I turned the engine off and hurried to the door.

"There's a man in our house, he said you invited him."

I stared at the front door in worry. "Soph, I want you to spend the night with Jenny tonight."

"Why? Who is that guy? He's scary mom."

"He's an old friend from school."

"Not one that I've ever met. He told me to be quiet."

"Lane left right after high-school. "

"You've never talked about him."

"Well, hon, to be honest, I hardly remembed him until he called today."

"He's creepy mom."

"It's good your staying with Jenny then isn't it?"

"You should make him leave mom. He looks like a serial killer."

"Don't be ridiculous. Lane and I were children together." But even as I brought the memories up, I remembered a quiet, somber boy who's favorite past-time was hiking through the woods. I did remember enjoying those hikes though. That was important wasn't it? I took a deep breath and got out of my Escalade. "Go pack Soph, and call Jenny."

Sophie ran ahead and I followed more slowly. Where was he? Why hadn't he come out to meet me? The bad feeling came back three-fold as I entered my house. I set my briefcase down by the door, hung my keys on the key-hook, and hung my coat up, all slowly and quietly, listening. At first, I heard nothing, then faintly, I heard talking. A man's voice. I followed the voice, not to the guest room, but to my room. I stood outside the door, listening quietly, but he was speaking to quietly for me to understand through the thick door. I took a deep breath and steeled myself before opening the door.

My first thought was that it wasn't Lane. The man was huge, and Lane had always been skinny. Not only that, but this man carried himself differently than Lane ever had. Lane had always hunched, and been closed in on himself, even to look at. This man stood tall with the confidence of ten men. Ten dangerous men. Lane turned and looked at me when I entered, but kept talking on his cell-phone. He had three large duffel bags, one open on the bed, and the other two sitting on the floor next to my bed.

"...won't be there until Monday. No. No." He was silent for a while after that, obviously listening. I could hear the buzz of the other voice on the line.

I took another step into the room as he looked me up and down casually. Even his face was different, and his unruly mop of curly brown hair was replaced with a shaved head. His dark eyes regarded me distantly as he listened.

"Lane..." I began, but he took one long quick stride and put his fingers over my mouth to silence me. I stepped back against the wall, and he followed, hovering close over me. He had been my childhood friend, but I was frightened of him now. I wanted to ease back out the door, but the way he had himself planted in front of me made moving all but impossible.

"I'll be there." he said finally, then flipped the phone shut. He looked down at me as he slid the phone in his pocket and planted his hand on the wall next to my head. He leaned in close. "You've not changed. Not at all."

"You have," I said faintly.

"That girl, is she your daughter?"

"Yes."

"She doesn't look like you."

"She looks like her fathers mother."

"More's the pity. Where is her father?"

"Vegas, maybe. I'm not sure. I... Lane, you.."

"Good."

"Lane, I was a little surprised on the phone earlier, perhaps I wasn't clear. The guest room is down the hall, you.."

He reached up and put his hand on my lips again. This time I got mad. "I never stopped thinking about you Hannah. Not even after I left."

That shocked me. "O-oh?" I stammered, unsure of how I should respond.

"No. You never thought of me though, did you? No one even noticed when I left."

"Of course we did. We asked your mother but she didn't know either, at least she said she didn't."

"We?"

"Well, I. I asked."

"Was she sober?"

I looked down at the ground. His gaze was too intense, and I was ashamed for him. He lifted my face back up so I was forced to look at him. "No, I don't think she was."

"She wasn't sober the last time I called either."

"Lane..., Lane, your mother died last year. There was an accident. The firemen said she probably fell asleep with a lit cigarette. The whole trailer burned to the ground"

His expression hardly changed. There was no grief in his eyes. If anything, his look became harder. I was more afraid now than I had been. What sort of man didn't care that his mother had died?

"Look Lane, maybe this isn't a good idea, I think maybe.." His hand came back up, his fingertips pressing against my lips.

"It is my plan to leave in the morning, early."

"All right Lane, but this is my room. The guest room is down the hall."

"I am aware of the location of your guest room Hannah, and I am also aware of where I will be spending my night. Did you send the girl away?"

My stomach clenched. "She is leaving..." I answered slowly. "Why... what... um. What brings you into town Lane?"

"Business, Hannah.," he said planting his other arm on the other side of my head and leaning in closer. "So you became an architect."

"Yes, what... what do you do Lane?" I was still terrified, but trying to act calm. Was he trying to scare me? Why was he so intense?

He cocked his head slightly as he looked down at me, his gaze taking all of me in. I felt myself blushing as the seconds passed and he didn't answer my question. When he finally spoke, it was obvious he had forgotten my question completely. "So this is what you've dreamed of all your life? A perfect house, a little girl, a perfect job, two cars and a dog? Do you have everything you hoped for Hannah?"

There was condescension in his voice, and I felt sick. He actually sounded disgusted with the normality of my life. "I'm happy," I answered finally.

"Happy even though Derrick is gone?"

I squirmed. He knew my ex-husbands name? Why shouldn't he? He knew where I lived and where I worked. I guess the internet is a marvelous thing for people who know how to use it.

"Happy despite," I answered, starting to duck underneath his arm. He quickly lowered it, blocking me again. "I want to say goodbye to my daughter before she leaves."

"You will see her tomorrow. She'll be fine."

"That's not the point," I began, but again, he pressed his fingertips to my lips.

I was starting to think it was time I got out of the house. Lane was not the same person he had been, and I was starting to think he may not even be sane any more. He certainly wasn't trying to disprove my theory.

"I often wonder how many people go through life not knowing someone out there is thinking of them. How many girls who grow up to be women, who don't even remember all the friends they once had, or even once consider what their life might be like now."

"I stay in touch with all of my good friends from school Lane. They were my friends for a good many years after, and I still consider them friends."

"All of them?"

"All of them."

"What about the ones you forgot while they were still under your nose? The ones you became too good for?"

"Lane, that's not fair. When our mothers quit talking, we only saw each other at school, and you went your own way."

"Did I? I don't recall you ever making the effort to say hello to me while you walked in your little clique, talking and laughing. Like everyone else, I became invisible to you. How long until you asked about me? How many years Hannah?"

I swallowed hard. "Two. Two years Lane. I...I saw your mom at the gas station, and I asked."

"And if you hadn't ran into her, you never would have thought about me, or wondered where I went."

"Where did you go?"

"You married in 01, had a child in 02, divorced in 03, and you haven't heard from him since. You went to college though, and had a full time job besides. You graduated college, then after a couple of years working for the local firm, you got an offer here in Chicago, but you didn't take it right away, not until your daughter began having trouble in school."

I felt even more sick. How did he know all of that? Those weren't things you could find out on the internet. "I... I want to go say goodbye to my daughter." I said and started to push his arm out of the way. His nostrils flared as he looked down at my hand on his arm. I pushed, gently at first, so he would get the point, but when he didn't move, I pushed harder, as hard as I could. Still, he did not move a muscle. He looked back at my face, at my eyes, and I could see his jaw clenching and unclenching. I let go of his arm and truly began to panic. "Lane," I said softly, fear causing my voice to raise a few notches., "you're starting to scare me. Is this why you came here? To accuse me, confront me? To what end? You never said hello to me either Lane. You let go as much as I did."

"I am here on business," he said his eyes still intense. "And I couldn't approach you, not with all of your new friends, not without fear of ridicule, not without fear that the words may actually come from your mouth. As long as you did not speak the words, I still had hope."

"So all of this time you have been harboring ill feelings, and keeping tabs on me?"

"Ill feelings? No, I moved on with my own life, but I never forgot you, and yes, I even kept track of you."

"If you have no ill feelings, then why all of this? Get out of my way dammit! Are you trying to scare the hell out of me?"

Lane didn't move. He stayed right where he was, leaning close and staring down at me. It was still a shock just to look at him. He had changed that much. His arms and shoulders were thick with muscle, and the rest of him was as well, but the sheer size of him seemed impossible, compared to the skinny little boy from school. Even his voice was deeper, though now that I thought about it, I couldn't remember him talking where I could hear during our high school years. I swallowed hard and did my best to glare up at him.

So quickly that I jumped, he shoved away from me and the wall and spun to his bag on the bed. I was still blinking when my bedroom door opened and Sophie looked in. Lane was calmly rummaging through his bag as if everything was just fine.

"I'm leaving mom," Sophie said frowning at Lanes back.

"Have fun chick," I said with a shaky smile, and quickly went to the door to follow her out. I was trembling, but Sophie didn't notice as she gave Lane's back a final glare. I followed her out to the living room to the front door and opened it for her.

"Was he your boyfriend before dad? Is that why you never talked about him?"

"No!"

"Why is he in your bedroom?"

"He made a mistake is all, he'll be in the guest room in ten minutes."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"I still don't like him mom. He's creepy as hell."

"Soph! Watch your mouth!"

"Well he is."

"Have fun at Jenny's. Here, here's a twenty in case you guys go out."

"Thanks mom. When's that guy leaving?"

"Early in the morning."

"Good," she said as she left. I watched her all the way out to the corner. Jenny only lived three blocks away, but I still worried about her. I stood at the door for a moment, looking out at my car and wondering if I shouldn't leave to. I felt uncomfortable, Jenny was right, he was creepy as hell. I looked over my shoulder to my key hook, and saw Lane leaning on the wall right next to them. I jerked involuntarily.

"You spoil her."

"I don't, and it's none of your business if I do."

"You hand her money, let her say what she wants, and let her run wild."

"Do you have kids Lane?" He smirked like I had said something obscene and he thought it was funny. "I'll listen to your advice when you do," I said turning away from him. I closed the door reluctantly.

"You don't have to be a parent to know a recipe for disaster when you see it."

"Whatever," I said going to the kitchen. He didn't know my daughter, and I wasn't about to try and explain it to him. I wasn't surprised when Lane followed me, but it still unnerved me.

I grabbed a bottle of water and circled around to look in the pantry. Really I was putting distance between he and I and leaving myself an opening. If he blocked one way, I could go the other. I grabbed a granola bar and closed the door. He was right behind it and I gasped with a little jump and squawk. Probably the most humiliating sound I had ever made.

"Why don't you date?" he asked, hovering.

I went the other way. "No time, I concentrate on Soph."

"Do you? So you are aware she has been skipping at least two days a week for the past month to ride the bus to see her boyfriend?"

"Her what? Sophie doesn't have a boyfriend, she is only fourteen!"

"And he's nineteen. Lives with roommates. You better get her on the pill pretty quick."

"You don't know what you are talking about!" I said angrily, refusing to believe what he was saying.

"No? Call her friend in an hour. See if she is there or if she has taken the bus to Justins. Justin Summerland. Works at the Best Buy part time. Small time pot dealer part time. You really are clueless and she knows it. You work, you imagine you have this happy little home and daughter and life. She is acting out because she has daddy issues of course. She even calls Justin 'Daddy'."

"Shut UP!" I screamed. I ran to the front to grab my keys, to go and see if what he was saying was true. My keys were gone from the hook.

I turned and he was behind me again, looking smug. I slapped him. I intended to slap him. He caught my wrist six inches from his face and his nostrils flared again. He grabbed my other wrist and twisted me rapidly, shoving me against the wall. He shoved so hard it knocked the wind out of me.

"You attack me for telling you hard truths, Hannah?" he hissed in my ear. "I knew you had changed, but what kind of woman would let her daughter pull the wool so far over her eyes unless she was trying to be blind to it? Is that it Hannah? You didn't want to know? Stop struggling! It doesn't matter now. You can find the little bitch and talk to her tomorrow. Tonight we are going to catch up, you and I. You are going to make a few of my fondest memories a reality. Stop struggling."

"What fucking memories you asshole? Let me go! I need to find my daughter!"

"Your daughter isn't doing anything new, nothing she hasn't done dozens of times over the past month. She is fine. She will keep till tomorrow. My memories. My memories of the fantasies I had every night. The ones where you realized you missed me and were madly in love with me and you snuck me away to the supply closet to suck my cock. The ones where you begged me to fill your cunt with my cum over and over again. The ones where you crawled on the floor, begging me to forgive you and offer me that tight ass to fuck. The ones where I parade you through the school with nothing but a collar, a ball gag and an anal plug so big you can only waddle. They got darker as I got older, the more you ignored me. Until finally you were just an ornament. A coffee table in my living room, all holes open and ready for me at all times, or a place to put my feet up. I think we will start with the cocksucking though."

"You are out of your goddamn..." I began as he started to release me, stepping back.

Pain bit into my hip, sharp and overwhelming. I may have screamed, but the other noises seemed to fill my ears.

I looked up at him from the floor, trying to regain focus in my eyes. My muscles all ached. He smiled and held up a cattle prod, letting the ends zap a few times. I shuddered and tried to wiggle away on my back.

"I want you to imagine, Hannah, what that would feel like if I shoved it into your cunt before turning it on. Can you imagine that? You won't have to imagine if you raise your voice to me again. No yelling, no screaming and you best start thinking about trying to make me happy. Come on," he demanded, grabbing me by the hair and dragging me down the hall.

I whined and grabbed his wrist, but I did not scream or fight. He drug me to my bedroom and shut the door before releasing my hair.