When I was dating Lance, I often traveled to Tulsa (about two hours from McAlester) for the weekend. I stayed with my BFF Jan in her apartment which was about twenty minutes from L’s place. On this particular weekend Jan was out of town, but I had a key to her place. I went from four years of living in a college dorm surrounded by friends to a year and a half of living in missionary apartments in Hong Kong with three and sometimes five additional missionaries. When I started teaching, I shared an apartment with my brother. My dad died the summer my brother Karl got married, so I moved home to be with Mom and help her transition to this new stage in her life. In case you haven’t noticed, I had never lived alone!
I’ve always been a fraidy-cat. I used to go to my grandmother’s to spend the night and keep watch over her when I was in junior high. She lived across the street and down two houses. I would ask my dad to watch me as I made the quick dash after dark to her house. But I was no longer that frightened teen! I was sure I could stay at Jan’s house by myself. I gathered my courage, parked Spunky (my trusty Plymouth Volare), and ran to Jan’s second story apartment. I inserted the key, opened the door, and slammed the door shut behind me. And I was comforted by the metallic click of the deadbolt. I was safely ensconced in Jan’s domicile. I grabbed a magazine to read and waited for my pounding heart to calm down, convinced that the scariest part of my evening was over..
I’d only been reading for a few moments when I heard footsteps on the landing. Oh well, that’s what happens when you live in an apartment. Other people come and go at all hours. But then, I heard a key being inserted in Jan’s door and watched as the bottom lock popped up. I pulled my feet up on the couch, heart pounding, convinced that I was about to meet a burglar! But the intruder was unable to get past the deadbolt.
As the footsteps receded. I breathed a prayer of gratitude for that chunk of metal standing guard over met. Just about the time that my normal breathing patterns resumed, the telephone rang. This was the 80s and we did not have caller ID. Tentatively, I answered the phone. It was Wayne, my best friend’s newly acquired boyfriend. I still hadn’t met him, but apparently he already had a key to Jan’s place. He apologized profusely for scaring me to death and said he had forgotten that I was there.
I had a husband and two children by the time that Wayne married my best friend, but I never let him forget the night he scared the living daylights out of me!
is my eleventh year participating in the March Slice of Life Story
Challenge. This year I'll be mining my memories for stories to share.