Pull the Curtains after Dark

I am five years old today.  It is bedtime, but I’m not sleepy.  I beg Mom to let me sleep on the couch, she finally agrees.  I smile.  My hand-me-down doll is on the floor behind the sofa.  I dressed her in pajamas and tucked her away where no one would find her.  I’m not allowed to sleep with her because one night I rolled on top of her head and she made a really loud squeaking noise.  Dad came running into my room to find out what was going on.  He was mad. 

I stay under the blanket until the lights are out and dad’s even breathing tells me he’s asleep.  I slide off the couch to find Trudy.  Bright moonlight spilling in through the window guides me to where I’m sure I left her.  I feel behind the sofa and under the lamp table.  She isn’t there.  I almost giggle, but stop myself.  It wouldn’t do to wake Dad.  Certain Trudy is playing hide and seek, I crawl to the other side of the couch and find her lounging against the back leg.  “You are here.  I thought I lost you,” I whisper.  I hug her before crawling back under the blanket.    

I kiss Trudy goodnight and tuck the blanket under her chin.  My eyes stay closed for a minute or two before I open them again.  I’m wide awake, staring out the window, watching the shadows as they move back and forth.  I’m not afraid.  I know a soft summer breeze flutters the leaves on the tree next to the front door.  Trees are my friends.

I wonder why the curtains are always open at night.  Outside is scary when it’s dark.  I wonder what I would do if someone tried to climb in the window.  The thought gives me a chill.  Gooseflesh appears on my arms, the hair on the back of my neck prickles, and my heart beats faster.  I worry about the possibility of a burglar, or even worse a monster climbing in the window.  Beads of sweat are popping out on my brow.  I want to run and hop in bed with Mom, but fear keeps me from moving.  

I begin whispering to myself, “You are being silly.  You are being silly.  You are being silly.”  After about twenty times, my heartbeat slows, the hair on the back of my neck stands down, and the gooseflesh disappears.  I am waiting for Mr. Sandman to bring me a dream.  He isn’t coming. 

I open my eyes, close them, and open them once more.  I stop breathing, certain there is someone outside the window.  A lump forms inside my throat as a man’s face, cupped on each side by a hand, peers into the window.  My mouth flies open, but the lump won’t let me scream, I can only croak.  My unsteady legs finally allow me to jump off the sofa and run down the hallway.  Inside my parent’s room, I leap up on the bed, and then scream—right in Mom’s left ear.

Mom grabs her ear and immediately sets up.  I fall off the bed.  Dad yells at me to be quiet.  Someone is knocking on the front door.  I slide under the bed.  I try not to breathe.  I don’t want the scary man to find me. 

Dad turns on the light, steps into a pair of overalls hanging on the back of the door, and leaves the room.  I hear the front door open.  My teeth are chattering.  I try to stop them and bite my tongue.  Pain brings tears to my eyes.  Dad is laughing and asks the man to come in.

I hear the man say, “I didn’t mean to scare her.  I looked in the window to see if there were any lights on in the house.  I didn’t want to wake you if you were already in bed.”

The voice sounds familiar, in a good way.  I relax. 

Dad yells, “Betty.  Come here.  Your Uncle Clint has brought you a birthday present.”

I say to myself, “See you were being silly.”

I crawl out from under the bed and dust off my nightgown.  Red-faced, I slowly make my way to the living room.  I pick up Trudy and whisper, “The next time you want to sleep on the couch, we’re not.”

Uncle Clint gives me a hug and a pretty pink box.  I look up at Mom, “From now on, could we please pull the curtains after dark?”

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