Elena
I nudge my door open with my left shoulder, carefully balancing a stack of reports on one side and a messenger bag on the other. Kicking off my heels immediately upon walking across the threshold, I unload the contents of my arms onto the nice, clean dining room table. These days it’s more of a work space than anything else.
I look around, breathing a little sigh of relief at this little window of downtime. I head to the kitchen to open a bottle of wine. As I pop the cork on a bottle, I decide a bath will be a great place to start project relaxation. My head fills with images of myself in a hot bath with soft music. Maybe slipping into a robe and letting my hair down will do me some good. Something about being at home immediately makes me feel a little better. A place of my own, just big enough for one.
When I moved in, I thought it would make me feel lonely. If anything, living in a house meant for two was the loneliest thing I’ve ever done. My thoughts drift to the home I shared with my ex-husband. At the time, I thought it was everything I wanted. Eventually, it became like living in a museum. It looked like a home, but it had stopped feeling like one long ago.
I push the thoughts out of my head with a sip of wine. Grabbing, my bag, I decide that it won’t hurt just to check a few emails, maybe make a few phone calls. Before I know it, I’m sitting on my bed with a half-empty glass of wine, still in my clothes, typing away at an email. Getting ahead on my work will make it much easier to relax later. All thoughts of a bath put off for now, I pick up my phone to make a call to one of my clients. As if she knows I’ve gone into full work mode, the screen lights up with Gerri’s name before I’m even able to dial a number. With a little sigh and a hint of a smile, I answer the call.
“Hello, Gerri.”
“Good evening, Elena,” Gerri says. I can hear a grin in her voice, “How is the night off going?”
“Oh, I feel fantastic already. A bath, a little wine. I think it’s exactly what I needed,” I say, trying to sound sufficiently revitalized.
“That’s very interesting,” Gerri replies, barely concealing the amusement in her voice, “I just got a call from a sales rep to thank me. He said he’d just received an email from you confirming that we liked his estimate and want to move forward with an order. He’s very excited to supply us and hopes we can work together again in the future.”
“Oh, well, you know, I just thought I’d try to—” I begin to say, but a soft thumping coming from the direction of the garage cuts me off. After a tiny moment of panic, I realize that the stack of reports on the dining table probably just tipped over “—get ahead a little bit so I can fully focus on resting up.”
Gerri sighs audibly. “Elena, I know you really care about your work, and I know you’ve been through a lot lately. Just try to take some time for yourself. You deserve just as much care as you give to your job.”
Her heartfelt response takes me a bit by surprise. As I’m searching for something to say in response, another noise from downstairs catches my attention. There’s no mistaking that it’s coming from the garage. A breath catches in my throat as I listen to the sounds, soft at first and then harder. My heart jumps every time I hear another noise, and I unconsciously hold my breath. Maybe a neighbor’s dog got in somehow. Just as I start to be a little comforted by the idea, I hear the unmistakable creaking of feet on the stairs up to the door leading into the kitchen.
“Everything okay over there, Elena?” Gerri asks. She’s noticed that my silence has gone on too long to be natural. I don’t think she realized my silence was from fear. Gerri’s still slightly amused tone suggests she thinks I’m feeling too awkward to respond to her concerns for my well-being.
At first, I’m unable to answer, my full attention on the sounds coming from downstairs. A particularly loud thud snaps me out of my trance, and I realize I can’t sit here and do nothing. I don’t remember getting up, but I’m standing now, staring at my bedroom door. I realize at that moment that I have no idea what I should do next.
Gerri’s voice begins to sound worried, “Elena? Look, I’m sorry if that made you feel uncomfortable. I just want you to take care of yourself. You’re important to this company and—”
“Gerri… I… I think there’s someone inside the garage,” is all I manage to say. My breath is short and shallow now, waves of adrenaline flooding my body. Gerri’s voice cuts through my panic. She sounds tense, but her voice is calm but firm.
“Listen to me very carefully. Call 911 and leave the house.”
I breathe into the phone, frozen in fear.
“Right now, Elena!” Gerri says, raising her voice a little in urgency.
I jump in surprise, but it’s just the shock I need to get me moving again. I hang up the phone and clumsily dial 911 with shaking fingers.
“There’s someone in my garage,” I say, before the operator finishes answering. She asks me several questions with a serious but calm tone, and I can hardly hear myself answering them. I’m focused on the noise from downstairs. The thudding has gotten louder now, and more rhythmic. The garage door rattles on its hinges with each noise as whoever is on the other side tries to break through it into the house.