The Ink Well Prompt
This week's prompt: "I think I'm being followed!"
The Ford Pickup
"So we'll get that part ordered for you, Mrs. Gordon, and give you a call back," I said bending down to take off my shoe covers off with a clip board in my hand. I tucked the shoe covers under my arm pit and handed her the clip board. "Here, could you just sign here acknowledging the work we did today." She politely nodded as her eyes scanned the paper as she lifted the pen from the clip. I looked at my phone while she did this: 4:33 PM. I'm getting out early today. This happy thought made me enthusiasticly grab the clip board from her hand as she handed it back.
Was it a pizza night tonight? I pondered this as I walked down Mrs. Gordon's porch steps toward my truck. I sat in the truck and scribbled some notes from the recent repair in my work notebook. I ended the note with a pronounced period by forcing the pen into the paper a little harder because Work. Was. Officially. Over. But as I fumbled to get my notebook back into the binder, I heard a sound that made my heart sink. A phone ringing. I didn't have to look at who was calling. I knew.
"Hello," I said with a flat, yet familiar tone.
"Ty," my boss said in a buttery tone that indicated he was about to ask for a favor.
"Yep." I said this with sardonic curtness that told him to just get it over with, because we both knew what he was about to say.
"I need you to go check out a sump pump issue over in Penshaw. Probably something with the valve. I don't think it'll take that long."
"I'm all the way in Mournstead. Isn't Davis in that area today?"
"Davie Boy..." he tried to remember. "He was over that way this morning, I think, but he left early today. Had to get the truck looked at"
I shook my head. "Alright. Text me the address and have Jessica e-mail me the papers."
"You got it," he resumed his buttery tone. "Thanks, Ty.
A simple farm house with an enclosed front porch sat to the right of the gravel driveway. The large yard was surrounded by a cornfield that enclosed the property. I parked where the driveway ended, in front of a gambrel roof building with one of its garage doors open. A light was on inside, and because it was getting dark, I could see someone was in there working on something. I stared at the barn to see if someone would look up to see I was here.
"Hi!"A voice coming from the other direction startled me. She saw me wince. "Sorry," she said with an awkward laugh.
"Hi," my eyes watched her come out of the dark and she appeared under the light. "I --" My jaw slightly dropped as I saw her eyes widen out of recognition. We both let out a pithy laugh of disbelief."
"Tyler?" She smiled, still a little unsure it was me. To me, she still looked the same; aside for some subtle crows feet starting to form at the corner of her eyes. Her face had somewhat lost the plumpness it had in high school.
"Gracie, good to see you." I was smiling sincerely and really meant it. "How have you been?" I had many deeper questions that swirled around in my head for years, but figured I would start with this. I stole a glance at the ring on her left hand, then looked up and saw she had caught me looking; a more sober expression on her face.
"I'm doing good," she said, trying to fill the awkward void. "Are you still in the area--"
"Hi, you here to look at the sump pump?" A tall built man, his large feet seemed to crush the gravel as her walked toward us from the garage with a wrench in his hand. His eyes alternated between us in confusion, as he realized he'd broken up a conversation. I looked at Gracie, expecting her to introduce me somehow. This is Tyler, we knew each other in high school. Instead, I was just met with an anticipatory gaze from her end.
I collected myself from the disappointment, and finally replied in my most professional voice "Uh, yep." I held out my hand to shake his. "I'm Tyler with Crossroads Plumbing."
"Great, I'll show you how to get in down here." He motioned toward the house. Then he gave both of us another puzzled glance. The conversation he interrupted was still on his mind.
All three of us walked toward the house; him and I toward the cellar door and Gracie toward the back kitchen door. As she walked inside, I heard the beep beep beep of the door sensor on the security system.
As her husband and I opened the wooden cellar doors and walked down the concrete stairs, I zoned out and recalled a particular night. I think someone is following me. My memory of Gracie's voice as she said this was vivid. Senior year. We sat on the cement block under the bridge that crossed over the Farnfoss river. She had agreed to my last-minute plans. I said something along the lines of that's all in your head as I continued to make plans to meet up with another girl on my phone.
She was laying in my lap, but sat up to look me in the eye. "No. No." She had never spoken to me so assertively. "There's this white truck. I've caught it parked outside of my house twice. And the other day as I was walking down the street," she said, shaken,"I saw it drive past. I know it was the same person who was outside my house."
"There's a lot of white trucks," I said. "Could've just been a coincidence."
"You're not listening to me," she said.
"You're a nutjob," I said to her nonchalantly. I didn't care what I said to her. I had this girl at my beck and call. "I don't want to see you anymore."
She looked at me, stunned, with her mouth open. She closed her eyes and began to cry, then got up and left. After that, I would occasionally see her out around town, since we had similar friends. But I never talked to her again.
My flashback was interrupted by Gracie's husband pulling the cord to the cellar light. "Here she is." He pointed to the sump pump. "Let me know if you need anything." He headed back up the cellar stairs.
Ten minute later, as I knelt down inspecting the pump, I heard the wooden doors to the cellar open. The footsteps that came down were meek this time. I looked up and saw Gracie with a flashlight in her hand. The lighting isn't very good down here," she said, holding out the flashlight. "This might help."
"Oh, thanks. I just realized I forgot mine in my truck," I said. She set it down on the table near me and walked toward the stairs. I looked up at her admiringly. In high school I was turned off by her niceness. Now that I'd been exposed to the cruel real world, I found it comforting. Now's your chance. Say something.
"Gracie." She turned around and stood before the steps. "I'm sorry for the way things ended between us. I know it's been many years. But, I just wanted to say that."
"Oh, pfft," she shook her head and laughed, making a dismissive gesture with her hand. "That was years ago. Don't worry about it."
"That truck that was following you... Did you ever find out who it was?" She looked alarmed by my question; amazed that I still remembered, and was validating it this time.
"Well, um," she laughed and then thought to herself as she recalled the event from years ago."It was a white truck..."
"Yea, I remember that part," I said.
"Ford with tinted windows, South Dakota license place I believe..." She stared down into thin air as she recalled the information from the back of her mind. "Never found out who it was, though." She looked up and caught my admiring her face. "I -- I'm gonna head back up. Let me know if you need anything." She smiled and began walking upstairs.
"Okay... thanks." I wanted her to stay.
I needed to replace a part of the valve, so I walked back to my truck to see if I had the part. The telephone pole light in the driveway shined down on my truck; the light reflecting off the wheel well above the tire. I need to make an appointment to rotate my tires next week I thought to myself. As I searched for the part I needed, my mind drifted. I'll have to leave work early... like Davis. He'll have to cover one of my jobs like I covered his. I imagined Davis sitting in the waiting room waiting for his truck to be serviced. His white Ford. His white Ford with tinted windows and his South Dakota license plate. And then it occurred to me. Davis.
Oh, Davis, you coward, I thought to myself as I shook my head and continued searching for the part.
Hi, good day. I somehow got confused in your story. What did David have in common with Gracie? Why was he following her back in their high school days??
They all lived in the same area as each other, and he used to stalk her in high school. The reason is unknown, but most likely for the same reason many stalkers stalk other people.
I think that what I find most striking about this story is the masterful narrator voice. I can "hear" it clearly as the voice of the character.
Fantastic and a pleasure to read