The Ghost on the Corner

The rain pelted the window, making sleeping impossible. I stared up at the ceiling, and under the rhythmic sessions the storm produced above me, I prayed that a pause would come. It didn't matter how long; it was just something that would help convince me that this unyielding pummeling of water had an off button. It made me thirsty. l needed something to drink, so I arose, threw on the tattered robe, and found myself in the kitchen, the trip I knew well, which, in the dark, could be done with my eyes closed. It was the middle of the night, and as I finished the glass of water, I quietly returned to my study and bedroom to escape.

I looked out onto the street below me, the rain producing a shimmering glow, the street lamp reflecting itself. Several cars sped by in this brief interlude. A pounding bass emanated from one, causing the window I was looking out of to rattle. Another car crept along, a lady puffing away nervously, probably lost, releasing a cloud of smoke in a slightly vented driver's side window. 

I was thinking about another shot at sleep, as the rain seemed dying down, when I noticed a movement across the street. I turned and caught the tail end of a tan raincoat flapping in the cold wind behind the lamppost. Soon, a person appeared from the grey shadows, wearing a raincoat and a hat, a derby that settled on his face, nearly over his eyes. The hat seemed out of place; however, I remember having one many years ago. "What would somebody be doing out in this?" I thought. The wind suddenly picked up, and his hand flew out of the pocket to grab his hat; in it was his phone. As he secured his hat, the face under it shifted up and, without care, seemed to scrutinize me, staring unafraid, challenging me to call the cops.

I was starting to feel a little uneasy; this person seemed to be saying something, and my first idea was maybe he needed help, but then he had a phone and could handle anything himself. Being on the second floor looking down, the distance would make it difficult to know

if I knew him, but he seemed to know me. Still locked on me, I see him using his phone, hopefully, to call for a ride. It was now raining harder, but he didn't seem to notice. The rain followed the wind, and the man turned against it when he made his call.

As I observed this insane man standing in a deluge, my mind drifted with thoughts of my events slated for tomorrow at work when I remembered I had to pick up my son from school tomorrow. I had forgotten before, something my ex-wife never forgot, and raced to get him after the school called. He had been standing in the rain waiting for me until a teacher, who was leaving late because of a parent conference, found him and brought him back to the school to dry off. I sheepishly walked up to him; he was eight years old and looked frightened, a child left alone, a look I will never forget. I would never repeat this, I vowed.

Naturally, my wife found out, and soon, I was firing off apologies. It's like never again to her, and there's no tomorrow to me. So tomorrow is another opportunity to show some form of responsibility—a last chance, so to speak. One thing I don't need is to have my time with my son taken away. Tomorrow, I have an important call to make to one of our clients, and I need to be alert, so sleep is required.

I was thinking about this call when my phone, which was in the pocket of my robe, rang. This caused a jumping reflex action, fumbling and nearly dropping it, and then a bead of sweat gathered on my forehead as I tried to recognize the number and locate the answer slide. The number looked familiar. I peered outside to help calm me down. The man was still there, looking up at me, holding the phone away from his head, then back to his ear. He wanted me to answer.

"Hello," I answered

Nothing but static or rain.

"Hello!" with more emphasis and a little more shaky

More static and a voice that quietly and steadily says, "I know you." in a very silent and hard-to-understand mode.

"God Damn It," I didn't have time to deal with this. 

I walked to my desk to remove my old revolver from the drawer. It hadn't been fired in many years, so I hesitated to bring it out. I found the shells in the back of the drawer where they had sat for ten years unmoved, the box old and collapsed, with the shells rolling out when I picked it up. I walked over to the window, and the man was gone. 

The sun was out, morning had arrived, and the remnants of the rainstorm weaved into the earth and ponds. Through groggy eyes, I found my car and drove to work. It was a long day, and my mind was thinking about last evening and wondering if it had occurred or just my imagination. My phone showed a call coming in, but there was no return number. I worked until I needed to go pick up my son, and as soon as I walked out, it started to rain again.

The rain was wreaking havoc on the roads, and an accident caused cars to stop and not move several miles from the school. I tried to phone the school, a private brick building with a guarded gate and a large man with a handgun on his side. His unsmiling face usually greets me, and he won't let me get by without showing my ID and identifying my son. It's never an easy process and usually takes time. So I called the school again, and there was no answer. I had a date that night, and that was now in jeopardy.

After sitting and not moving for an hour, I managed to get the car over to the side of the road and park it. A desperate father's face helped after explanations and begging the cars to slightly move up or back as I reached space on the side. I soon sloshed past the stalled cars with rain pouring down my face and down the raincoat, which I took to work as a last thought. The trek was demanding; keeping the rain out of my eyes and not tripping on curbs was my prime objective, besides capturing and returning my son to his mother. But roads were getting more challenging to navigate. My sight was not good, and the school wasn't where I was positive it was supposed to be.

I continued trailing the roads, block after block, but I still couldn't locate the school. I decided to walk into a pub, the rain pounding down, and found a restroom to dry off. A man walked up to a urinal. After wiping my face and seeming to reestablish my vision, the man, after washing his hands, asked me if I was lost. I told him my predicament, and he showed me how to use the phone app for directions. I felt like an idiot. I had used this before, and I might have remembered if it wasn't raining.

Once again, I was back into the storm, with several fronts ahead of me to deal with: my wife and the school. I followed my phone's path; somehow, I had wandered far south of the school. Once, I thought I recognized a building and, excitedly, almost got hit by a car as I stepped off the curb. A homeless man came out of the shadows and persistently begged for money. Smelling like a wet stray dog, the man hustled up against me, almost dragging me down with the breath of alcohol and decay flowing out his mouth. 

"You're a worthless son of a bitch," he cried out while returning to his cardboard shelter.

I then found a dog following me, hoping I would have something for it to eat. After a couple of blocks, he gave up limping to a garbage can for a saturated treat.

The time to pick up my boy has passed. No call from the school may have meant he found a ride, but my ex-wife will be unsatisfied. My call to the school went unanswered as I continued in the direction of the phone and seemingly got into more unfamiliar territory. The rain came down in buckets. My phone would soon quit working; the workings inside could only bail out water for so long. I was panicking, wondering how life could get any worse.

I was on a street corner, my head down, leaning against a signpost, the street light shining down upon me. I looked up and shockingly discovered my home; my studio window was before me. Son, a man appeared in the window. I couldn't tell, but I swear he looked like me. I took my phone and called my number. His hand went to his ear, and he answered.

"Who are you, and what do you want with me!" the phone shouted back at me.

I thought about answering but knew I wasn't prepared for this and whatever it brought. I turned and walked back into the darkness, back into a curtain of water with whatever life gave me beyond.