The House Behind the Footsteps Chapter 2

Time seems to me like a footprint in the sand. You can slowly dig your foot into the grains of the earth, but after a few seconds, all traces of your toes will have vanished. The water rushes in and erases all that you have done. For some time you stare at the point in the earth where your foot once stepped, but you cannot remember what it looked like. All of the bribes in the world cannot make you remember what that footprint looked like. It has been washed away, for all time. Now, only the sand remains.
I think this to myself as I walk down the street to Doug’s house. After the Christmas party, he seemed to come around more often. My mom eventually toted me along to the weekly Back Alley Bridge tournaments, and instead of playing cards with the complaining women, I sit with Doug and watch television in his small living room.
Time has passed so quickly, but time has been so kind to me. I realized that Doug is more than just a guy I know through my mother’s card partner, he is my best friend. He has become the person that I want to talk to about everything.
The street treats me as it usually does; hurling bumps and lumps at me in order to stop me from going further. My boots can hardly take the abuse. My mom strolls nearby, but she hardly pays attention to where she walks. She uses the time to worry about my siblings and file her nails.
When we reach Doug’s house, I quietly search for him in his television room. I hear his aunt hoot and holler at my mom. All of the women are ready to play cards and drink iced tea, which is their usual routine. The women never drink alcohol. Their husbands would have a fit, and the women would do anything to avoid a fight.
Doug smiles at me, and he points to the empty cushion of the couch. He turned up the television volume so that we couldn’t hear the slapping of the playing cards.
“What are you doing tomorrow? I thought we could drive a bit to the drive-in uptown,” he suggests.
I make a sound of disgust and disappointment. “I have to babysit Debbie and her brothers tomorrow. You know the schedule; I babysit them almost every night.”
He nods slowly, as if to comprehend and come up with a deeper idea. “Well, I could always drop by Debbie’s house. I’ve spoken to Mrs. Harn before, so I don’t think she would really mind.”
I laugh at the ridiculousness of this plan. There is no way I can bring a boy into the home of someone I babysit, and especially not a boy that almost the entire town knows I like. I look at him and start my chortle once again.
He stares back at me and slightly lifts the corner of his mouth, but he does not find his plan as silly as I do. He must really want to see me. At this, I decide that Debbie’s mom wouldn’t mind.
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August 15, 1967
         The summer is nearly over. It has been a fun time, so I can’t say that I didn’t enjoy myself. I made about fifty cents an hour lifeguarding on the days that I didn’t babysit Debbie and her brothers.
         Doug followed through with his ideas, and he convinced Mrs. Harn to allow him to come over with me to babysit. He never takes any of the money I make. I really appreciate him being there. I no longer have to bring Susie with me or worry about calling one of my friends to chat with when I get scared.
         The days have gone by so fast. I can’t even believe that just nine months ago, I was standing in the middle of the town fire hall wishing I could open my mouth wide enough to speak a few words to Doug. Now, he helps me babysit almost every night.
         I don’t feel ready to go back to school. I am going to be a junior in Carmichaels High School. It’s going to be weird this year because Brian has been held back. Normally, he is a year ahead of me. He was so excited to be a senior, but because of his pneumonia, he’s been put into the junior class. It’s very awkward. I feel that all of my classmates aren’t going to know what to do with two Dennys in the grade.
         Lifeguarding will end in a few short weeks. I have to start classes in September. Doug will be a senior this year. It seems so odd to me that Doug has become the entire reason I work. I see him wherever I am: at the pool, Debbie’s house, or my house. He puts up with my rowdy brothers and snippy sisters.
         Debbie’s brothers love Doug. I think they prefer him to me.
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August 30, 1967
         I have no walked through the path to get to Debbie’s house in months. Doug always drives me now. I definitely feel safer, and it’s much quicker.
         School starts in just a few short days, but I am babysitting all day today. Luckily, as usual, Doug has agreed to tag along.
         I walk into the house without knocking, for knocking in Carmichaels just seems out of place. I know the Harns too well to knock at the door. Debbie wouldn’t answer the door anyways, since all children are told to avoid strangers at the door. Debbie always does as she is told.
         Debbie is sitting at the round, hard plastic kitchen table. She has her hands filled with colorful crayons and markers. I cannot see the drawings splayed in front of her, but she seems to be enjoying herself. Doug makes his way upstairs to find Michael and David. He always finds them either in a fight or intense game of war.
         Debbie lifts her head slightly without averting her eyes to the guests. She knows it has to be me. “Did you mom already leave, hun?”
         “Yeah. She said sorry, but she had to leave earlier than she expected, and when she called you weren’t home,” Debbie said.
         “Oh, goodness, I went to Doug’s house before coming here. I am so sorry. Were you alone long?”
         “Nope. Only twenty minutes.”
         I still feel rather guilty. I’m sure Debbie’s mom didn’t even worry about leaving her children in an empty house. It’s daytime, and no one ever comes far enough into the woods to make any sort of intrusion. I’m not sure people would even know how to get to the Harn home unless given very strict directions or by stumbling upon it by accident. It took me several walks with Mrs. Harn herself to find the exact path that designates one to Debbie’s home.
         “Can I color with you?”
         Debbie giggles and tosses some crayons towards the empty space of the table. I love to color. Out of all the childish games I don’t play, coloring is the one activity I will participate in. It may seem silly, but I find it very relaxing. Debbie likes when I color with her, too.
         The day seems to pass by quickly. Hours fade when one focuses on coloring within the lines. Debbie can color for days. I’m sure Doug has entertained the boys with his rendition of George Washington at war. If not that, he has probably told them some random and silly stories about himself as a boy. Doug always has some idea of what to say and when to say it. He tells the perfect stories at the perfect moment, and he always has a plan. I have never met someone that prepared for anything that comes his way.
I put together some pasta with store bought off-brand spaghetti sauce for dinner. Everyone finishes their plate and heads to the family room. Debbie’s mom was able to buy one small television, and the kids crowd around it directly after dinner to watch their favorite weekly cartoon.
I grab the red-smeared plates and take them to the sink. Doug looks at me questioningly, wondering if I need help. I smile and nod towards the television. Debbie and the boys always want him to sit with them. He heads into the room after winking at me.
I slowly rinse off each individual dish. I want Debbie’s mom to have no housework to do after getting home.
The open window by the sink shows the setting of the sun. I see a dark shadow fill my peripheral vision, and I peer up to find what obstruction is blocking the burning sun.
I drop the plastic plate as I find myself staring at the back of a man with grey hair. He has blue jeans and a cheap black shirt. He is bent over attending to something, and I don’t think he even knows I am watching him. I slowly back away as the blood rushes into my brain. The corners of my eyes start to blacken, and I can no longer feel my senses.
How did he get here? What is he doing? My breathing starts to get heavier as I step away from the kitchen. Doug calls in to me, “Are you okay? Was that a dish?”
The man hears his loud hollering and turns his head into the home. I find myself gazing into the man’s eyes. I look at him with panic and disbelief. I can’t even find my lungs. My hands are trembling by my side, and by now I have backed up as far as I can go.
My back has reached the counter, but I am still facing the kitchen sink window. He simply looks back at me, and then without warning he bends down to finish attending to what he was originally working on.
Due to the response of my fast breathing pattern, Doug jogs into the kitchen. He looks out the window, following my gaze. The man has just started walking down the path. Doug says, “Who was that man? You must have seen him.”
“I don’t know who it was. If I knew, he would’ve come in, don’t you think?”  I was angry at Doug for this question. He didn’t even sound worried.
“Well, maybe he just got lost.”
“He was fixing something outside by the door. He stared at me and then went back to working on it. I don’t know what he was doing, but he looked like it was important. I don’t know how he knew to come back here. And stop talking so loud, I don’t want those kids to hear. They’ll get really scared and tell their mom about this.”
“We should tell her about this!” Doug glanced at me with a look of worry.
“What are we going to tell her? That a strange man was fixing a weed in her garden? I don’t know what he was doing, but it was on the ground.”
“We have to tell her that a strange man was lurking around her property. They should lock the doors or tell Mr. Daniels or something.”
Mr. Daniels is one of the town policemen. We only have two.
“I’m not saying a word. If he was out at the house, he probably knew Mrs. Harn. When he figured she wasn’t home and I was here, he walked away. I’m not saying a word,” I defiantly answered. I picked up the plastic plate and continued to rinse it off.
Doug stepped outside and looked around the garden. He came right back in, but he didn’t say anything to me. When Debbie asked why he went outside, he replied, “Your mom’s plants needed some water. We don’t want them to die, now do we?”
Debbie smiled up at his face, and shook her head. The kids forgot about the entire incident, but Doug and I did not. We did not speak about it the entire ride home. He did not tell me what he saw outside, if he saw anything.
I told Mrs. Harn that the day and evening went great, and everything was in order.