Richard tucked into his sandwich as the rain crashed against the living room window. Stupid British weather.
The news channel was on TV, but he wasn’t paying much attention. He glanced at the time on his phone, wondering if the website had gone live yet. He was desperate to go online and check, but couldn’t. He thought about asking one of his neighbors if he could use theirs, but realized that he still didn’t know most of their names, and it had gone far too long to ask now. If only he had written them down when they first moved in, he could have saved himself a lot of hassle during Christmas when sending out cards. Ilene was the only neighbor he knew, but she was at least eighty with little to no chance of owning a computer.
He tried to use the Internet on his cell phone again, but it didn’t work. He even contemplated going to the library, but couldn’t face the six-mile drive into town. Not in the rain. There was never anywhere to park. No, he was going to have to face up to not knowing. He had eleven more days to go. How hard could it be?
The forecast on the news showed more sunny weather to come by the evening, going into tomorrow. He shook his head in disappointment. “What about now?” he shouted at the television, then switched it off with the remote control.
Picking up one of Nicky’s books, he started to read. By the third chapter, his eyelids weighed a ton. He fought hard to stay awake but couldn’t. Dropping the book on his lap, he slipped into a doze.
He dreamed of sitting at his desk, trying to finish the monthly reports, while Nicky stood by his side. He felt at ease knowing she was so close. He glanced up at her and beamed. Funny for her to be at work. She’s only been here twice before. Nicky smiled back at him. But then, standing in her place was a woman he had never seen before. She was drenched in sweat, with long, brown hair clinging to her face, down over her chest. She wore a white dress covered in stains, and had bruising on her arms. The woman was around mid-thirties, curvy, with a look of deep torment in her eyes. There was something unsettling about her, about the way she stared at him. Watching her lips as she tried to mouth something, he moved his head closer to listen. The sound was faint and inaudible, so he asked, “What do you want?” Still her words were muffled. He leaned in even closer, but as he did, her mouth opened wide as if to scream.
But nothing came out.
“What do you want?” he asked again, moving even closer to her. Then a screeching noise pieced his eardrums, forcing him to wake up. The racket was still there with him on the couch, in the living room, away from his dream. He put his hands over his ears to shield them from the howl.
It was the smoke detector again.
He leapt off the couch, almost tripping over the coffee table in front of him, and sprinted into the hallway to investigate. There was no smoke, yet again. Frowning, still a little disoriented, he climbed a few steps to get at it—and it stopped. Just as before.
This time he unhooked the plastic detector from the ceiling. Grasping its round shape, he twisted it and it popped off. He pulled out the battery and took it into the kitchen, leaving the detector on the stairs. Throwing the battery into the garbage, he found a new one in a drawer. He took it over to the detector and replaced it, returning it back up onto the ceiling. “Piece of shit,” he said, rubbing his ringing ears.
“Keep still!” Nicky ordered, huddled up to Richard on the couch. “I’m trying to watch the film. What’s wrong with you?”
Richard shuffled in his sitting position. “This couch is itchy, that’s all. I can’t get comfortable.”
Turning to face him, she scowled. “No, you can’t keep still because you’re bored.”
“That’s not true,” he replied, still trying to find a better position. “I’m not bored. And I don’t mind watching a film.”
“No, you’d rather be sat in front of that computer.”