When In Rome

Slipping in mud, Marcus ran across backyards, vaulting over wooden fences and getting tangled in hanging sheets left soaking up the weather. He didn’t look back. He didn’t need to. The sirens wailed close and loud; police cars flashed red and blue lights like melting watercolors through the pouring rain. He had to find a place to hide.

Ahead, a low window at ground level. A basement. All the houses in this neighborhood had them. The latch gave way easily and he wriggled through, landing on a large toolbox conveniently left under the window. He carefully closed the glass and shivered, drenched, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. He shook the water from his shaggy hair.

Within, the silhouette of a pool table; the outline of a sagging couch; shelves of games and puzzles. There came a familiar whooshing sound, and Marcus jumped. Just the water heater firing up. It cast a soft glow and gave off a faint odor of gas; and against the far wall a washer and dryer, towels folded neatly on top.

Marcus sloshed his way across the room and grabbed one, stopping to listen towards the wooden stairs. The far-off sound of a TV, but no approaching footsteps. He waited a few moments longer, then stripped off his wet clothes and shoes, rubbed his hair, and wrapped the towel around his waist. Feeling somewhat safer, he moved a few cardboard boxes, then settled behind them. At least he was hidden and out of the rain and a bit warmer. This would have to do for the next couple of hours.

A noise jerked Marcus from a light drowse. Remembering his sticky situation, he thought someone might be coming into the basement, maybe to start a load of laundry – but then again at this late hour? There were also the folded towels. It could be any number of reasons. He scuttled farther back into the corner and waited for the door at the top of the stairs to open, for the light to blink on.

But neither of these things happened.

He peeked over the boxes.

Despite the darkened room, he could clearly see two bare legs dangling from the basement window, feet kicking, searching for that convenient box. With an audible ‘oof’ a girl dropped onto the tool chest and let out a short shriek, slipping on unexpected mud. She fell backwards onto the concrete.

Without thinking, Marcus jumped up, the towel slipping to the floor, and rushed to her. She lay prone, eyes shut, and he thought he had killed her with his own trodden-in muck. But a moment later she blinked open her eyes and groggily sat up.

“Lay back down,” Marcus said. “You’ve had quite a tumble and hit your head pretty hard.”

But the girl, rubbing the back of her scalp, ignored his warning, immediately realizing there was a strange guy in her basement. Her eyes widened and she scooted backwards on her behind.

“Who the hell are you?” she demanded in a fierce whisper, adding, “Stay back!”

Marcus understood her alarm, a strange guy rushing up to her from the shadows of the room.

“An intruder! Don’t move!” she commanded, yet still in a forceful whisper. “My parents have already called the cops …”

“You sure about that?” Marcus said, knowing her words held no validity. Her parents were, no doubt, still watching TV, or more likely, asleep by now. And given her means of entry and whispered demands, they were most likely unaware their daughter had even been out. He guessed her parents were the last people she wanted to see right now.

She peered into the meager light, glancing first at the mud-caked toolbox, then over at the mound of Marcus’ wet clothes. She turned to him and squinted. He wasn’t coming at her in any threatening way, whoever this guy was. But as her eyes grew accustomed to the dim room she burst into laughter, snorting through her nose, seeming to forget their most preposterous situation.

“Who robs a house naked?”

Marcus looked down, now feeling the room’s sudden chill. Forgotten in his haste to be chivalrous, he was indeed completely nude. Now it was his turn to shriek, only it came out higher than hers, like a mouse caught by its tail. Looking around for the dropped towel, he hurriedly retrieved it and wrapped it around his blatant nakedness.

“I can explain.”

“Why should I believe you?” she laughed. “Is this your modus operandi, robbing people in the nude?”

“No, look. I’m not here to rob anyone. Honest. I was running … I mean I was being chased by the cops.”

“The cops?”

“Yeah. I only ducked in here to hide.”

“A criminal for sure, then.” She said this without the least bit of trepidation.

Marcus sighed. “No. I mean, I was duped.”

“Oh?”

“Look. My best bud lifted a box of ‘Nilla wafers from the Shop and Go, and when the manager caught him, he shoved them under my jacket and took off. Of course, I was left holding the goods, so I ran, too.”

“Some best bud.”

“Yeah. But that’s what happened.”

“Actually, you probably did the most logical thing. Assuming you’re telling the truth. I would have done the same thing.”

“You would have shoved a box of stolen cookies at your best friend?”

She looked at him sideways. “No! the whole innocent, running away thing. You saw this basement window and ducked in here. I do it all the time.”

“What? You mean you don’t live here?”

“Oh, I live here, alright. I mean this is how I usually enter the house when I’ve been out too late. I have a key, but the front door creaks something awful, and the stairs are even worse.” She looked at him. “You could have picked any one of the basements in this neighborhood.”

“Yeah, well, I was kind of in a hurry. And it was raining. And yours just happened to be available.”

Still smiling, the girl held out her hand. “Help me up,” she said. “Name’s Jamie.”

“Are you sure you should stand?” Marcus slowly pulled her to her feet. The rain had stopped and the light of the moon was shining into the room. He finally got a good look at this girl whose house he had broken into. No, it couldn’t be, Marcus thought. But Jamie was a step ahead of him.

“You’re Marcus Lopez. I recognize you from World History. Mr. Carter, right?” Jamie asked. How could she be so casual?

Jamie Monroe. One of the prettiest girls in the tenth grade. Even now, her long, brown hair fell in soft, rain-curled waves across her shoulders. Marcus thought of the many times he’d stared at her during class, looking away before she noticed. And she was always raising her hand, asking questions. Often the same questions he was too shy to ask himself.

Of all the damned basements … Then, you lucky son of a bitch.

“Where are they now?” she asked.

“What?” he said, coming out of his thoughts.

“The ‘Nilla wafers,” she said. She seemed to have recovered from her fall, and the fact that a boy from her World History class had been hiding naked in her cellar. She strode past him, that half-smile still on her face. She had no fear, no hint of apprehension. She picked up his dripping jeans and shirt and stuffed them into the dryer. With no modesty, she let her own damp dress slip to the floor. Picking it up, she shoved it into the dryer alongside Marcus’ clothes and turned the knob.

Marcus gawped like he was in teen boy heaven. But she casually took another towel from the top of the dryer. She wrapped it around her bare body in such a way as to resemble a Roman toga. And for all the world, she truly looked as beautiful as the goddess of love. For a moment they stood, the dryer softly humming, scraping buttons round and round.

“The wafers?” she reminded him, one eyebrow lifting seductively. Flummoxed, Marcus regained somewhat of his composure and pointed to his discarded jacket. She bent, and rummaging, stood with the intact box of wafer cookies, a look of triumphant discovery in her enchanting smile. “Got the munchies?”