The Next Week...
The following week, Willard was late every day, and on that Friday, he didn't even show up. As a result, rumors sprouted. Some were mild, but others ran along the lines of, "Rat-boy finally cracked and did himself in, just like his old man." Concerned, Alice approached her co-workers, asking for Willard's address. Each time, they refused to tell her, and retorted with lines such as, "Shouldn't you know? You are sleeping with him." She wasn't, of course. She was just concerned for a fellow human being, a friend. At least, that's what she kept telling herself. "We never truly agreed we were friends, but still... I helped him, he helped me. I mean, I should at least care that my co-worker is acting so odd, right?" Finally, she convinced the secretary to tell her; the woman wasn't that bad, actually.
And so, here she was, walking along a darkening street at six at night, heading for the address she had scribbled down. "I wonder what I should say.... I guess I'll just tell him outright why I'm here." She turned a corner, and almost fell down in shock. Before her loomed a rather large house; it was not the fanciest house around, but it was still impressive to someone who had lived in an apartment for eight years. Finally working up her courage, her footsteps echoed as she walked up the stairs to his doorway. She gingerly knocked on the door three times and waited. After a minute or two, the door opened. In the doorway stood Willard, dressed in a t-shirt and blue jeans. His face was flushed, and his eyes were red, as if he had been crying. "Alice...? What are you doing here?"
Pulled from her thoughts on his appearance, she said, "Oh, I thought something might be wrong, what with your lateness to work and then not even coming today." His eyes widened and he nodded.
"Oh, I'm fine. It's just that my mother's been sick..." Following that note, they stood there in an awkward silence, until Alice spoke.
"Well, do you need help with her? My mother was sick for years before finally... So, anyway, I can help!" He shook his head.
"No, I can handle it."
"Are you sure, Willard?"
"Yes, I-"
Suddenly, someone in the house shouted, "Willard! Get back in here and help me find my pills! Tell whoever that is to wait in the living room until you're done with me!" "That must be his mother…"
"Are you sure you don't want to leave now?" he asked Alice, beginning to turn and enter the house. She nodded and followed him inside. "Wow, this place is so pretty…" Alice thought, marveling at its size as she passed through threshold. He motioned towards a door to the left of the front door. "The living room is right through there."
"Willard!!"
He flinched and said, "I'll be back to talk as soon as I can," before racing through a door across from the front door. Alice took one more look around the hallway before entering the living room. Her jaw dropped. Before her was large fireplace faced by a couch and two armchairs, and to her right was a long, metal staircase that wound around like a spring and disappeared upstairs. "This guy's loaded! Or at least his mother is. Aw, but why should I care if he has money? Remember what your mother taught you before she began hating you, 'Judge someone by their personality, not their looks or things, no matter how big they are'." She chuckled at that last line.
Alice sat down on the couch and glanced at her watch. "6:18. Aw, I'm gonna miss Deal or No Deal! Oh, well, I suck at that game anyway…" She stretched her arms and laid back, snuggling against the couch and watching the roaring blaze in the fireplace. "Ah, he'll probably only be like ten minutes."
She closed her eyes and, after awhile, drifted off into sleep.
Later…
"Huh?" Alice sat bolt upright. "I was…? How long?" She looked at her watch. "8:20? What the heck? Why'd he let me sleep so long? At his house?" She looked around, confused. Nothing looked different. No lights were off, no smells of dinner wafted through the house. She tapped her watch, thinking it to be broken.
"Sorry about that," said Willard, suddenly walking into the room and sitting in one of the armchairs. "Usually, she's in bed by seven. Today, however, she didn't seem to want to sleep." She blinked in disbelief. It really was eight o' clock? "I'll understand if you want to leave now that it's so late." She shook her head.
"No, I can stay. It is Friday after all." A smile crossed his face.
"You're certainly welcome here as long as you like. Oh and would you mind handing me that book?" he asked, motioning towards a paperback book further down on the couch she was on. She nodded and picked it up before standing and stepping towards him. Her foot hit something on the way, however, causing her to fall against Willard. His arms instinctively curled around her. Blushing, she shifted her legs to a more comfortable position. Wondering why his face turned a darker crimson, she looked down and gasped, realizing that she was now straddling his lap. Stammering an apology, she tried to push herself off of him, her eyes widening as her hand brushed something hard. "That's not a pencil, is it?"
"You little whore!" came a shout from behind Alice. She turned towards the voice and mentally gasped. There stood an elderly woman in a nightgown; her face furious, her hands balled into fists. "A bastard and a whore, procreating in my own house! Out with you, bitch! Get out!" Alice whimpered and leapt off of Willard, racing for the front door as fast as she could. Tears streamed down her face as she raced into the cold night and collapsed just around the corner in an alley. She curled up into a fetal position, sobbing as her mind raced. "I didn't! We didn't! God, I've never been so! And poor Willard! Oh, what have I done?"
Finding the energy to stand, she staggered back to her apartment, desperately wishing she could just disappear.
