A Stranger's Bed

CW: Contains adult themes, implied sexual content, and unsettling imagery.

I’ve never been one for hookups. I have nothing whatsoever against people who are; I’ve just always preferred to get to know someone for a while before becoming intimate with them. For me, it takes a lot of vulnerability, and I like to know that I can trust someone before I take that step with them.

Staring at the bedroom ceiling of the stranger snoring next to me, I wondered how I had come to trust her so quickly. Thinking back on every partner I’d had, it had never been this brisk before. The soonest I had slept with someone prior to that night had been after a month or so of dating. But she had given me one look from across the bar at Poor Richard’s and had made my heart stop. Then she had been sitting with my group of friends and I, I had learned that her name was Tarah, and we were complimenting each other’s tops and comparing music tastes. Next thing I’d known, we were stepping out of the cigarette-reeking building into the chill night air towards her car, our hands clasped. And now I was here, her pink sheets loosely covering us and her arm resting over my chest. Inhaling, it occurred to me that her hair still smelled vaguely of nicotine. We never showered. Maybe next time?

A thousand thoughts buzzed through my head, underscored by the cheap fan on Tarah’s nightstand. She was the first woman I’d been with. I’d always told myself that if I ever dated a woman, I wanted to take it steady, really savor the honeymoon phase. But there had just been something inexplicable about her that made me want her with blood-warming immediacy. And now I had no idea if Tarah, whose hair was just a bit too short to mask the tranquility on her face as she slept, would even want to date me. Sure, she had given me every indication that she was attracted to me and had seemed to thoroughly enjoy my company, but was it just a good time for her?

When we’d arrived at her apartment, we’d sat by the fire pit on her back porch. She played me a couple songs by Richy Mitch and the Coal Miners while talking about her asshole neighbor. I hadn’t been familiar with the band, but I liked how they sounded. And now, just making out one of their records on a nearby shelf, I wondered if I’d be able to hear their music again without a lump forming in my throat. I felt crazy; I’d only known Tarah a few hours, and already, the thought of not seeing her again made me want to cry. My jeans lay on her bedroom floor, barely visible in the darkness, and I hadn’t even gotten her number yet.

I nearly bolted upright. Where was my phone? I had meant to text my roommate, Jade, that we had gotten to Tarah’s place safely, and I’d completely forgotten. It wasn’t next to me in the bed, and scanning the nightstand, I realized it wasn’t there, either. Maybe it was in my jeans pocket or in my purse? The last thing in the world I wanted to do was lift Tarah’s arm off of me, but not knowing where my phone was would keep me from getting a wink of sleep. Reluctantly, I kissed her fingers and moved her arm away, doing my best not to wake her.

I tiptoed out of bed, nearly jumping when I caught my reflection in the mirror I had forgotten was on her wall, and searched my pants pockets to no avail. My purse, which sat nearby, had my wallet and charger inside, but nothing else. After slipping on my jeans, I crept into the living room, wondering if I had maybe left it on a table or a counter. No such luck. The only possible places it could be were in the car or, god forbid, back at Poor Richard’s.

I breathed as steadily as I could, trying to quell my mounting panic. There was no sense freaking out if I didn’t need to. I had absolutely brought my phone with me that night; there were only so many places it could be. If worst came to worst, I would go back to the bar in the morning and see if I’d left it there. It was probably just in Tarah’s car. I would slip out, check as quickly as I could, and if it was there, I would at least know where it was, and I could get some sleep. As much sleep as I could get while not knowing what the future held for me and the gorgeous stranger whose bed I lay in, anyway.

Before heading for the front door, I peaked back in at Tarah. She breathed steadily, clearly in deep sleep. I made sure there was no mechanism on the door that would automatically lock behind me, and satisfied that there was none, I opened it as slowly and silently as I could and shut it behind me. I would need to be quick; the last thing I wanted was for Tarah to think I was leaving in the middle of the night. She lived on the first floor of a small row of apartments. Every window was black, and there were no streetlights; the only light came from the moon, which was full and clear. Far off in the distance, beyond the trees that covered the neighborhood, I could hear a car rumbling here and there.

She had parked right in front of her apartment, and I realized now that her car was one of only three or four in the little parking lot. It was the middle of December; maybe folks had gone out of town for the holidays early. I stepped to the passenger door and peered in. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but when they did, I sighed with relief. I could just make out the vague rectangular form of my phone on the passenger seat. Predictably, the doors were locked, so I’d have to wait until morning to get it; there was no way I was about to wake Tarah up to unlock them. But now I knew I wouldn’t have to go looking for it the next morning.

I turned away from the car and froze before I could head back into the apartment. Though the window of the unit just next to Tarah’s was completely dark, I could make out a figure peering out at me. You’d have never been able to tell that there was anyone there if it hadn’t been for their eyes, which floated in the inkwell of a room. They were the most sickly shade of brownish yellow and had no irises or pupils; it was only possible to tell that they were eyes because they dimly illuminated a few spots of the skin surrounding them. The eyes disappeared into uninterrupted blackness for a moment before reappearing. A blink.

Neither of us moved for what felt like minutes. Every hair on my body stood on end, and my stomach felt almost as icy as my skin. Finally, the eyes moved to the right, never breaking their gaze until they disappeared behind the wall bordering the window. The motion was completely smooth, as if the person to whom they belonged was gliding across the floor.

When the neighbor’s doorknob began to turn back and forth, clicking repeatedly against the lock, my senses returned. In one motion, I darted into Tarah’s apartment and locked the door behind me. I took a couple steps backwards, not taking my eyes off the door, waiting to hear something on the other side or for the knob to begin turning. But neither happened. If anyone had stepped out of the next apartment, it was impossible to hear them.

I tiptoed back to Tarah’s room, glad to find that she was still asleep, and closed the door most of the way behind me. I started to breathe more steadily. I had to have been seeing things. There were no glowing eyes in the next apartment; that was ridiculous. It had to have been the reflection of car headlights or the refracted image of a streetlamp or something. As I crawled back into bed and Tarah shifted closer to me, the warm ease I felt cooled some when I remembered that there were no streetlights. And there had been no car passing.

I lay there for a while, comfortable but wide awake. There was a window just above Tarah’s headboard, and the slits in the blinds let in a shallow pool of pale moonlight that just barely showed the details of the room. I went for what I guessed to be fifteen minutes without falling asleep, then thirty. I tried to let my mind wander but kept finding myself pulled back into that dim room by the shadows of tree branches listing across the ceiling, looking just a bit too much like a set of long, knotted fingers.

I was just beginning to nod off when, barely perceptibly, the door began to creak open. First a half inch, then two more inches, and then it stood wide open, exposing Tarah’s small living room. I knew perfectly well that the apartment was probably just settling; it was hardly the height of luxury, and it was wholly possible that the doorframe wasn’t very good quality and was causing the door to hang loose. But that didn’t stop the goosebumps from coming back. Even under the covers and with Tarah so close to me, the air felt still and frigid.

It stayed that way far too long. And maddeningly, Tarah didn’t stir at all, even as my arms grew slippery with sweat. I stared forward, not wanting to admit to myself that I was waiting for something to emerge in the doorway. Nothing did, but I was suddenly aware that something smelled like smoke. It was different from the nicotine scent of Tasha’s hair; the room reeked of burnt meat. Just when I thought my whole body might snap into pieces from its own rigidity, a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan came from next to me. Turning over, I was met by Tarah staring at me, her mouth hanging open.

Her eyes were open as wide as they could be; it was as if she had no eyelids at all. I swore that they would explode from their sockets. Her pupils were shrunken to tiny specks which I could only see because the irises surrounding them shown through the darkness a little more than they should have. The sound pouring from her mouth grew louder by the second. My heart raced, and as the groan rose to a gravelly scream, I held my hands tightly over my ears and shut my eyes. The commotion stopped a few moments later, and I slowly lowered my hands but didn’t open my eyes. The room sounded as still as it had been before, and that rancid smell had dissipated, but I dreaded what I might find when I took another look.

But within about ten seconds, the steady rhythm of Tarah’s deep, slumbering breath resumed. I slowly opened my eyes and found her as she’d been before her eyes had opened, evidently unaware of what had happened. I lay awake for hours, on guard for anything else to happen, but nothing ever did. Though a few times, I thought I caught a flash of yellow out of the corner of my eye in the mirror. I wondered if Tarah had had some sort of seizure, but I had never seen one like that. And for the rest of the night, she slept soundly, not moving any more than anyone else would while asleep. It wasn’t until the birds began to chirp outside that I drifted into my own shallow sleep, and almost as soon as I did, her alarm woke us both up.

“What time is it?” I groaned.

She checked her phone. “It’s eleven.” She set it down, turned toward me, and smiled. “Did you sleep ok?”

I shook my head. “No. I realized that I left my phone in your car last night, and when I went out to make sure it was there, I…” I doubted that I should say anything. She would think I was out of my mind, and that was a thought I could hardly bear. But her smile had sunk, and there was plain worry on her face. I had already begun, so I sighed and continued to explain what had happened. As I finished, her expression went from worrisome to contemplative. “Have you ever—I don’t know—had seizures before? Or, like, any sort of weird fits when you sleep?”

Tarah shook her head. “Not that I know of.” She shrugged. “Well, like I said: my neighbor’s an asshole. He was probably messing with you.”

“I suppose,” I said, hesitantly. “Seems like a weird way to mess with someone, though. And I’m still worried about what happened in here.”

She furrowed her brow. “What, are you saying I’m lying?”

“W—no, I didn’t say that, I just—”

“You just sound like you don’t believe me.” There was a heavy twinge of irritation to her voice that made my stomach sink. “I told you last night: he’s an ass. If you don’t want to believe me, that’s on you.”

There was an almost tangible silence between us. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insinuate anything. The whole thing just felt really weird.”

“Yeah, well, he’s a weird guy. I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe you were seeing things.”

“Are you sure you’re ok?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood. “I really was worried about you last night. You don’t remember anything? Waking up? That smell?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she replied flatly. She sighed. “Should we go get your phone? Then I can drive you home.” It was over. The rapport which had developed so effortlessly the night before was gone in a few seconds, and I had no idea why. Tarah had held onto me gently, but now, every inflection in her voice pointed me to the door.

I put on my shoes, grabbed my purse, and was out the door before she was. I didn’t want to stay another second in a place I wasn’t wanted. My eyes felt hot with tears. I had wanted so badly for this to go somewhere; I had been more immediately attracted to Tarah than I had ever been to anyone, and she had been so warm and kind. And now it was all too clear that I would never see her again. And if this was how she acted over a small misunderstanding, that was for the best, but I ached for it to not be for the best.

As I waited for her to come out, I glanced at the neighbor’s window, and the despair immediately drained from me and was replaced with the same icy dread I had felt the night before. I knew I shouldn’t go any closer; no good could come from looking inside. But everything had deteriorated so fast that I could hardly understand any of it, and if I could just assure myself that there was nothing in that apartment to be afraid of, maybe that would give me some tiny amount of closure. I had surely just been seeing things. Or it had been a dream. One of the two. I just needed to assure myself of that.

I would only take a quick peak. The neighbor might have been home, and I didn’t want him to catch me staring though his living room window. I stepped up and peered in with as much subtlety as I could, and when I made out what was inside, my heart stopped. The entire apartment, as far as I could see, was empty. There was not a single piece of furniture or any sign that the place had ever been lived in; only a bare tile floor with a fine layer of dust collecting over it and undecorated grey walls.

Not a single word passed between Tarah and I as she drove me home, and once her car disappeared from view, all doubt was gone that that was the end. Maybe I could have asked for her number, but she never would have given it to me. In my heart, I wanted to feel disappointed and despondent over it, but in my gut, I didn’t feel as if I could anymore. I took it easy for the next few days, let myself feel sad and stay mostly in my bedroom, but within a few weeks, I met and started steadily dating a woman named Nora, who’s a friend of Jade’s.

Things have gone great with her so far. We’ve been together a few months now, and I’ve found that she’s someone I feel like I can always be myself around. We haven’t argued about anything yet, let alone had an argument like the one I had with Tarah. It did take me a couple weeks to feel comfortable visiting her house, and my first time was in the middle of the afternoon, but with time, it’s felt more and more normal. Nora’s never made me feel judged for being tentative, either, which makes me feel even more at home around her. It’s not often anymore that I think about my first and only hookup. I only really remember it once in a blue moon, when I wake up in the middle of the night from a dream that’s tinted brownish-yellow and which smells like heavy smoke.