True Story

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: January 31, 2019

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Submitted: January 31, 2019

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My buddy Lance was a trooper during my confinement at Straub. He came by almost every day.  If I told him I didn’t feel like seeing anyone, he stayed away. If I needed anything… a hotdog on July Fourth, or a phone charger, a change of clothes, he brought it to me. 

And he listened to my weird stories.

 

 

 

 

“Hey Lance. Have I ever told you my story, ‘Goldilocks and the One Bear’?”

“No, I don’t think so.”, Lance replied from his chair in the corner of the room.

“Okay, so a few years ago, I was getting ready to travel to the mainland. I had it all set up so that Brian would take care of the dog, and check the p.o. box while I was gone.”, I began. “But one night I came home from the restaurant, this woulda been July 3rd, because Ana had discussed the possibility of going to Hapuna Beach with her Mom and Dad on July 4th.  She was going to check with Patty when she got home, and give me a call to let me know the plan.”

 “When I reached home, the first thing I noticed was that someone had ripped the screen out of the door by the refrigerator and hung a t-shirt over the resulting hole. I figured maybe Myke had wanted something from my house.  This was the kind of finesse move that I had come to expect from my older brother.  My house was built in 1963. The kitchen door was one of those old style wooden doors that is half window/half screen, but never one hundred percent of either.” 

“Well, I knew that Brian had a key, and I had seen a pair of white flip-flops on the stoop, so I thought maybe we had gotten our wires crossed and he was here to take care of the dog, the mail and the house a week early.  But when I entered my house, I knew something was wrong.”

“You’ve gotta understand, I’m a bit of a slob.  I live alone. I rarely entertain visitors. So, at some point, I’d decided what the fuck is the point of keeping everything spic and span, when I’m the only person who’s ever gonna see it?”, I told my friend.  “When I came into the house, I immediately noted that someone had washed this month’s dishes.” My slovenly style called for just piling dishes, forks, cups, beer bottles, and whatnot in the sink, changing the water on occasion, as necessary, until I needed some utensil in the pile, at which point I’d wash all the dishes and start over. But tonight, all the dishes had been washed and placed in the dish strainer on the counter. The exception being a single wine glass sitting on the counter next to an open split of Late Harvest Riesling.”

“What’s a ‘split’”, Lance asked.

“A split is a half-sized bottle, 375ml I guess. Late Harvest Riesling is really sweet, almost like syrup. Some people call it Liquid Sex. The grapes are afflicted by a virus, botrytis, that sucks all the moisture out of the grapes, forcing the grapes to make more juice. Its really, really sweet and more expensive. So, they package it in smaller bottles. Kind of a dessert wine”, I explained.

I continued, “A glance to the left and I noticed that the ‘clean’ laundry pile, the one that I kept in a heap on the Lazy-Boy recliner in the center of the room, had been neatly folded and stacked.  ‘What the fuck?!’ I thought. “


“It was obvious that it wasn’t Myke or Brian that I was dealing with.  My old Nokia phone began to chirple, meaning the battery was going dead. So I went in to the bedroom to plug it in and wait for Ana’s call. When I returned to the living room I glanced around taking inventory. Everything seemed in perfect disarray, folding money and change scattered across the table top, my digital camera laying on the side kitchen counter next to the wine ‘fridge and my cd collection. Nothing seemed out of place.”

“I heard my phone ring once from the bedroom, so I went to answer. One of the strange things that has dogged me since I started dating Ana is that our phones never seem to be in sync.  I get a call from anyone else and it rings and rings and rings.  I get a call from Ana and it rings once and goes to voice mail. I’ve looked in the phone settings for a reason, but so far have come up empty.”

“Anyway, as I listened to Ana’s message… her sister was already asleep, she said so she’d call me in the morning to let me know what was happening.  As I hung up the phone and turned to go back into the living room, I noticed that there was a naked young woman asleep in my bed. I could tell that she was naked, although she was covered, because there was a pile of clothes at the foot of the bed that included blue jeans, a brassiere, a t-shirt, and panties.”

“My bed is a futon frame that sticks out from the large closet. There’s a small reading lamp on the right that was illuminating the face of my naked guest, so I knelt closer to gaze upon this sleeping face. ‘I’ve never seen this bitch before in my life’, I thought to myself.  So, still in kind of a mental freefall, I stood back up to consider my options. A few years ago, there would have been no hesitation on my part. I would have shimmied into bed and called it good. But this was now, Ana would be calling in the morning. This situation needed to be dealt with NOW.”

“Wait. Wait. Wait.”, Lance interrupted. “You’re telling me that you came home to find a naked girl in your bed?”

“Dude, If I’m lying, I’m dying. Honest to God”, I confessed. Then continued.  

I leaned down close to the naked woman in my bed shaking her leg under the blanket, ‘excuse me.’  She stirred a bit, but went back to her restful position, so I shook her again saying; ‘ excuse me’, a little louder this time.”

“She sat up in my bed rubbing sleep from her eyes. I didn’t detect any smell of alcohol. ‘Excuse me, but… ummm…just who are you? And what the FUCK are you doing sleeping in my bed?!’, I said, finally losing any semblance of personal restraint.”

“Uh…Kalani said it would be cool.” She murmured.

“Well, I don’t know Kalani. And this is definitely not cool”, I said. “Do you have any identification, by chance?” She went into her purse and fished out a red and yellow library card.  “I was thinking something a little more official, like maybe something government issue, with a photograph on it?”  This time she fished out a Hawaii driver’s license with a Maui address ….Monique something, something, something, something…I never have been much good at Hawaiian names. So, I said, ‘you need to get dressed. We need to talk.’ I waited in the living room while Monique dressed and collected her things.  I paced back and forth across the living room kitchen area, running my hands through my greying hair, trying to think of what I should do with this person who had broken into my home, washed my dishes, folded my laundry, and crawled naked into my bed. I was desperately trying to absorb the situation.”

“When Monique came out of the bedroom, fully clothed, carrying her purse, my mind was spinning.  I was definitely in uncharted territory.”

 “Listen, if you need a place to crash tonight, you’re welcome to sleep on the couch. But you have got to be gone early in the morning.  REALLY early.  My fiancé will be stopping by in the morning with her parents. If she finds you here, I’m not going to be engaged anymore. I LIKE being engaged.” 

“I was partying with my friends, we started out in Kona but ended up in Kalapana. I just want to get back to Maui.” She was kind of talking bubbles, but didn’t seem particularly drunk or high.

“Great! She was travelling with friends, I asked her, ‘Is there anyone you can call?’” 

“Monique …whatever her name was… pulled a cell phone from her purse and punched up a number. ‘yeah, tomorrow is the fourth of July. No, I don’t know what I’m going to do.’

I kept waiting to hear, ‘I’m in Pahoa. Can you come and pick me up?’”

“After a couple of minutes, strange as it may seem, I felt like I was eavesdropping on a private conversation, so I stepped into the bathroom to try to collect my thoughts.  I paced back and forth, trying to make sense of the insane situation.  I came home to find a strange woman naked in my bed. She had obviously forced entry into my home, and then folded my laundry, washed the dishes, and helped herself to a single glass of wine. Bizarre behavior even by Pahoa’s standards.”

“When I emerged from the bathroom, Monique was gone.  Everything else seemed to be in place; money, laptop, camera all still where I had left them. The only thing missing was my unexpected visitor.  I replayed the evenings events in my mind, then decided to call the police.”

“At first, the police dispatcher didn’t seem to grasp the situation. ‘You came home from vacation and found someone living in your house?’”

“No. I came home from the restaurant and found a naked woman in my bed.”

“Even when the dispatcher began to get the picture, she wasn’t especially helpful.  ‘Let me get this straight, someone washed your dishes and laundry, and you want to file a report?’, the dispatcher’s demeanor was professional, but she sounded incredulous.”

“’The laundry was already clean,’ I told the officer on the other end of the telephone line. ‘She just folded it and stacked it.  Let’s try to stay focused on the part where she had to break into my locked house’, I responded. After a little back and forth banter, the dispatcher grudgingly agreed to send an officer to my house. This was around eleven pm.”

“At one a.m. an officer pulled into my driveway. He never even got out of his vehicle. He listened to my story and handed me a piece of paper. “Here’s your report number.” He was ready to take off. But I stopped him.”

“’There’s a crazy woman wandering around Pahoa.  I’m not sure what’s wrong with her, but if the wrong person picks her up, she may never be seen again.’ People have a bad habit of disappearing in and around Pahoa. I was already aware of two persons who went missing from my front doorstep.”

“The responding officer said, ‘We had a report of someone in the Malama Market parking lot. Maybe I’ll go have a look over there.’  He pulled back into my driveway again around two a.m. to tell me he hadn’t located Monique. After that I finally climbed into my bed, alone, and went to sleep.”

“Early the next morning, I received the call from Ana.  She said that we were going to do the fourth of July at her brother’s Ala Ili Ranch.  I told her, “You’re not gonna believe what happened to me last night.”I was right. She didn’t. But this is the kind of story that gets repeated, and if Ana was going to hear it, I wanted her to hear it from me first.”

“By the time I reached the ranch, the story had made the rounds.  Ana’s nephews cornered me away from the children and womenfolk.  ‘I hear you had a visitor last night’, one of the boys commented casually.”

“I related the story to them then, pretty much the same as I have laid it out here.”

“’Bullshit!’ Enrique spat.”

“’I’ll accept that from you, because if you were the one telling me this story that’s exactly what I’d say to you.  But I was there. That’s the way it happened. Whether you choose to believe me, or not, is up to you. I really don’t care.’”

“’Next time bring her to my house.’”

“’You know Enrique, I never thought of that. But sure. Next time I’ll just hog tie her, throw her in the back of my truck, and bring her to your house. Because, ya know, this shit happens to me all the time.’”

“And THAT, my friend, is my story of “Goldilocks and the One Bear”.  Not the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me.  Not by a long shot. But it’s definitely in the top ten.”

“Wait a minute”, Lance interjected, “A naked woman breaking into your house isn’t the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to you? What could be weirder than that?”

“Well, technically, she wasn’t naked until after she broke into the house.  But I’ve got a whole laundry list of stuff that’s stranger than that one.”


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