THE PHONE BOOTH

THE PHONE BOOTH

Nothing prepared Ophelia for the long wait. Where is he? Why is it taking him so long?

Ophelia was in a state of fear; a new feeling for this 14-year-old. She held onto her bag like it was a life saver—had she been too sure of herself? Was it true that there were dangerous people just waiting for her, like her mother said? “You need to get into the phone booth, as soon as you get off the bus!” Her mother’s warning words were stuck in her brain, like day-old oatmeal on a spoon. She could not shake them.

“Mom, I’m here at the phone booth. How long do you think it will take for Dad to get here?” Ophelias mom was concerned, “Don’t wait anywhere else but the phone booth, Ophelia. Dad will be there as soon as he can—maybe 20 minutes at the most. Just make sure you close the folding doors tight and then lean against them. No one will be able to get in, even if they push hard.” She leaned against the door as hard as she could, just like her mother told her to. The old glass phone booth was not very warm. Red and gold leaves were blowing across the street as if they were racing to go somewhere. The wind howled around the corners of the metal and glass box, and Ophelia thought she was going to faint from the fear.

Then Ophelia saw something that made her hair stand on end—a big black cat walked right out in front of her, in front of the phone booth. It stopped just midway across the sidewalk. Sitting on its haunches, its bright green eyes aimed directly at Ophelia; the cat began to make the noise of a wild cat—was the cat waiting for her to leave? Was it waiting for her to come with it? Ophelia’s mind was scrambled—she could not think straight. What was it that black cats were known for? When they walk in front of you, did they bring you bad luck? She was sure Olivia would have known what black cats were known for—and it wasn’t good news!

Without any further ado, the cat stood up on its four legs and continued its noisy screech. It walked calmly away. Ophelia stopped holding her

breath, “Where is Olivia when I need her?” The thought quickly left her mind as the cat suddenly jumped and ran to the other side of the street. It ran up the trunk of the tree that stood watch over the whole street. The massive tree had big fat limbs, so this was a perfect spot for the cat to sit and watch too.

It was Ophelia’s first time away from her twin sister Olivia; a strange situation for sure. But it wasn’t even as much fun as Ophelia thought it would be. Maybe because she was so alone; not even her mom would be there to help with this scary situation. She did not expect to feel this alone.

Ophelia’s wait for her dad to pick her up from the corner of Main Street and Elm was feeling like hours. Yet she knew she had only been in the phone booth for a few minutes. There was no one around; no one was walking on the sidewalk. No one was in Birch Run at this time of night, except at the White Owl—her mom told her that she needed to be watchful. The phone booth was right near the White Owl; on the same corner. Her mom had told her that there may be some dangerous people in the White Owl. But all Ophelia heard was loud music and tinkling of glass; even some loud voices and laughing. It was noisy and not clear enough to hear what the crowd of revelers were saying.

Ophelia was always very brave; she was told. So many things had happened to her, even though she was only 14. There was the time she got sick with the Chicken Pox; Olivia did not get sick even though her mom told the twins to play together so she would catch the itchy bumps. She never did. Just like a lot of things that happened to the “The Twins.” There was always something to watch out for: “Olivia is fragile.” Her mom said. That made Ophelia sad. She did not want to hurt someone who was “fragile” especially if it was her twin!

Ophelia was distracted suddenly when she heard the noise from the White Owl increase as the door flung open, and a couple stumbled out into the cold night. Then the loud slam of the door as the twosome wobbled away, walking toward the parking lot, right under the limb where the black cat sat in wait.

It was cold in the phone booth, and Ophelia took off her mittens to blow her fingers to warm them. “What did mom say again?” Ophelia mumbled to herself. “Where is Dad? Mom said he would pick me up as soon as I called her,” she thought out loud. She looked up at the big white globe above the door of the White Owl. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought it was the moon—but it had a clock inside it, so, no, it was not the moon. Now Ophelia was shivering, from nerves and the cold.

“How much longer” she thought as she wound her scarf tighter and pulled her gloves back on. The big clock face was showing 9:45 and she knew the bus had arrived at 9:00. Looking in the direction of the black cat, Ophelia had a sudden start. It was no longer there. It had just disappeared, leaving her in a state of wonder—where did it go, and would it reappear if she opened the folding door to the booth?

“Olivia would have been better prepared for this.” Ophelia thought. Olivia was a cheerleader. She had been selected at the national competition at the convention of high-school cheerleaders, and Ophelia was not.

Ophelia had thought that if she won and Olivia didn’t, that would be too hard for Olivia to take, being that she was so fragile. So, Ophelia did not try hard enough to win, so she lost the honor of being a cheerleader. She knew she was not trying hard enough, so when she lost, Ophelia was angry at herself. Of course, it was more important to Olivia to be a cheerleader than it ever was to Ophelia—but, still, it was a massive loss to Ophelia. That’s how she ended up here, in the phone booth—waiting for her dad; alone, cold, and scared, wondering if she was going to have to fight off a black cat!

Ophelia was now very upset that she was still waiting for her dad. Where is he?

Olivia had been so excited that she was going on the players' bus along with all the other cheerleaders. Despite the request their mom made to the school directors, Ophelia was not allowed to go on the players' bus.

That was for the cheerleaders only. The Players bus would be dropping the cheerleaders off at their individual homes at the end of the day.

So, Ophelia went on the spectator’s bus with the rest of the students…there was no cheerleading on the bus, just lots of songs including the Panthers school song.

It was an away-game and the trip to Byron had been 2 hours long both to and from the competing school. It was also one of the last games of the season, so the excitement had built around this game, and it went over the top when the Panthers won. They were now in the finals, so there would be another game, but it would be at the home school, right at Birch Run High School.

Everyone in the Birch Run School district was planning to attend the last game of the season—all hoped the Panthers would be the victors. Then they would go on to compete in the State finals, and Olivia would be part of all the celebrations, as a member of the spectators' cheerleading squad.

Ophelia was devastated when she saw what the whole cheerleading competition came down to. It was a clique of sorts. If you won a place on the squad, you were chosen because you “fit” in. Ophelia had never felt so out of place as she did now. She thought she did not deserve to win because she did not fit in. That thought stayed with her for a very long time—even beyond her high-school years. She never talked about it with anyone, especially not with Olivia! Ever!

As her mind wandered over the heap of rehashing the loss, Ophelia heard the noise in the White Owl was building to a crescendo. Olivia looked up at the white clock face, and it said 9:25, almost half an hour. Then she looked again for the cat. Wherever it was, Ophelia was still worried that it would jump on her when she finally left the phone booth—trapped! She felt so trapped! She was freezing and shaking like a leaf. “Where is Dad?” she thought, almost frantically.

Suddenly the door of the White Owl opened, and two men walked out onto the sidewalk. The noise tumbled out around them and Olivia saw a tall skinny man and a shorter, plump man. They looked harmless enough.

They stood talking at length, taking their time leaving the place—the door stood wide open, as if they were waiting for someone else.

Meanwhile, Ophelia tried to disappear; it was not easy to do in a glass box. She made sure she didn’t look directly at them, knowing that they would draw their attention to her. She felt an icy grip of fear grab ahold of her heart, then her head; her mind leaped to full attention as she saw the two men walking toward the phone booth. Before she could cry out the men were at the side of the booth, leering inside at this young girl. “Hey Blondie, let's have a talk, heh? Open the door so we can see you. Come on; we don’t want to hurt you…”

The noise from the bar was still loud; maybe someone would come to her aid. No, these two were not going to leave her alone. “Hey Sweetie, we just want to have a good time; how about you? Want to have a good time?” and then the tall skinny guy said “Let’s go Lenny, she’s just a kid” Lenny was mad now; he was losing his accomplice. “She’s not a kid; I can see from here, she’s at least 21! Come on Blondie; don’t spoil all the fun! Open the door so we can talk—just a little conversation, maybe a drink or two…. What could be so bad. Huh?” Then he stepped forward, shoving the skinny guy's hand out of his way as he came closer to the glass of the booth. He put his nose right against the glass, then his mouth…” Hey Blondie, I bet you know a thing or two; you can teach me what you know” He was repulsive beyond anything that Ophelia could imagine. She tucked her head into the collar of her coat and tears began to flow. Her shoulders were up around her ears now, and she waited for the next verbal attack.

The phone booth seemed like a mere shell of a barrier. There was no more strength in her legs as she lifted one of her feet and pushed hard against the opposite glass wall of the booth, ensuring that the men could not get to her.

Then, a wrenching sound came out of nowhere; she could not see where it was coming from, then “Oh no! Oh no! She screamed as she felt the booth tilt. Then the skinny guy stepped forward and pushed along with the short guy. They were going to push the booth over, with her in it! She screamed with all her might.

The screams that were coming from the booth did not stop the two men—they were delighted with the idea that they could rock the booth loose from its flimsy foundation. Lenny kept pushing harder, even harder as the skinny guy stepped back— “Come on Lenny, let’s get out of here before we hurt her…” Lenny called out “What a Pussy; come on we can have some fun—nothing wrong with having a little fun!” and he pushed so hard the booth almost fell to its side. There was an awful screeching sound as the metal scraped along the cement. Ophelia was screaming now—full throated screams, sounding almost like the big black cat.

Ophelias screams had drawn attention from someone in the bar. There was another man coming closer to the booth. “What the heck are you two nuts doing to this poor girl?” The fracas had also drawn the attention of something else. Out of nowhere, there was a swirl of black fur, clawing, snarling, it jumped right on top of them--all over the two men. The cat scratched their faces, their necks, and their hands, making them bleed. Blood was dripping all over them and the sidewalk too.

Ophelia could see how much the cat had hurt them; the two men were so surprised they had stopped their pushing-- walking away then, running to the parking lot, the two men disappeared around the corner of the empty ticket kiosk.

They were gone in seconds and the man from the bar asked her if she was ok. Ophelia nodded her head and begged him not to come near her. He put out his hand, palm forward and said “Don’t worry honey, I’m not here to hurt you. If you don’t need help, I’m on my way,” and he walked back into the bar, closing the door with a thud.

The cat was sitting on its haunches again, this time right near Ophelia and the phone booth, making a purring sound that was louder than she had ever heard before. Olivia finally left the phone booth and stood next to the cat. There was no attempt to attack Ophelia. In fact, the cat stood up and walked right over to Ophelia, twisting its flexible body around her legs; first her right leg and then the left. Ophelia bent over and touched the cat softly, then patted its head, “Good kitty! You saved my life!”

Silence now, not even a peep from the bar—no voices, no tinkling of glasses, only silence as everyone in the bar began paying their bills and leaving the White Owl for the night.

Ophelia was a mess—her tears were smeared all over her face—her nose was running, and she didn’t have a tissue to wipe it. She took a very deep breath and tried to relax; it took another few minutes before she had her wits about her again. Meanwhile, the cat decided to leave. It walked back towards the phone booth and disappeared behind it. Ophelia looked to see it come out the other side—no cat! Gone!

No one stopped to see if Ophelia was ok; no one asked her if she needed help. The man that had done that earlier was long gone and she felt sure she was no longer in danger. Her breathing was calm now; her eyes were fixed on the empty street—at the very end of it, she saw a set of headlights, slowly coming toward her. So slow was this car moving that for a moment Ophelia was afraid it may be the men coming back after her.

Then she saw the green slope of the roof of her dad’s old Buick as he ever-so-s-l-o-w-l-y pulled up to the curb on the other side of the street. He sat there looking in her direction and then motioned to her to come to the car.

One more deep breath and Ophelia felt she could walk now. Wrapping her scarf around her neck again, she pulled her gloves off and moved away from the folding doors of the phone booth. Her legs shook as she stepped off the curb to cross the street; she walked to the passenger side of the car and opened the door. “Hi Daddy.” She said in a somber voice. Her dad said, “Are you OK?” and Ophelia nodded and sank back into the warm comfort of the cloth covered seat. Her only memory of that night was the way the warm seat covers felt to her bare hands; she could even recall the smell of her dad embedded deeply in the fibers of the seat cushions.

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