Terri Deno

Date Night

I ignored the plain white envelope sitting on my desk. If it was urgent, someone would have visited my office by now. I would have gotten an email label “urgent” and been instructed to look at it. It wasn’t until the end of my workday that I bothered to see what it was about. 

As soon as I opened it, I breathed a sigh of relief as a few flower petals fell out of the envelope. It wasn’t work related, and after the day I had, I was glad about that.

I opened the note. A few more flower petals landed on my desk. It was from Chelsea. We moved in together recently, but it was a busy time at work. I hadn’t been home much. 

Peter,

I can’t wait to see you tonight. If you come home early, I have a few surprises in store. Call me if you’re going to be late. 

Chelsea

I looked at my watch. If I left the office right then, I wouldn’t have been too late, but I wanted to let her know that I was leaving anyway, just in case her surprises weren’t ready yet.

I called. I texted. No answer. 

I didn’t think much of it. Chelsea was always leaving her phone on silent and forgetting it in random places. Sometimes she would go for two days without noticing. She wasn’t tied to the screen like I was. 

I managed to sneak away from the office and get in my car. There, I found a note on my steering wheel. “Check the trunk,” it said. At that point, I did think it was strange that she managed to get a note in my car without me knowing. I didn’t even know she had my spare keys.

I popped open the trunk and found inside a nice suit. I didn’t know if I should put it on before arriving home. I didn’t want my boss to see me and find more work for me to do, so I put the suit in the passenger seat and drove home. 

All the traffic lights worked in my favor to get home earlier than I expected. I took a second to take in the view from my driveway before I entered. It was a lovely little house, and it was all ours. 

I had the suit in hand as I opened the front door. I was waiting for Chelsea to run to me and shower me with kisses, but she wasn’t there. “Chelsea?” I called out halfheartedly. No answer. 

I noticed another note on a still unopened stack of boxes by the coffee table. It didn’t have flourishes of love and desire. It simply said: “put on the suit.” 

I didn’t know what Chelsea had planned, so I stripped down right there in the living room, hurrying to put on the suit so that I could get to the next step of her little love game. 

“Chelsea?” I called out again. “I have the suit on.” I heard a faint thud above me. It didn’t sound like it had come from the second floor, but higher. The roof, perhaps? Or maybe the attic. I hadn’t explored it yet. The former owners could have left it full of junk for all I knew.

I made my way from the living room into the kitchen. Chelsea had left something cooking in a big soup pot on the stove. It was bubbling away. What was emanating from it was a strange smell, not at all like the homemade chicken soup Chelsea’s mother had taught her to make. That would have been a delicious combination of broth and vegetables. Instead, the kitchen smelled like—what was it?—boiled meat. But not chicken. I walked over to the stove, about ready to take the lid off and see what exactly it was, but something caught my eye. Scatter’s collar was sitting on the counter. Scatter was our cat. He was a mischievous little thing, always finding ways to get into trouble, but he was never without his collar. 

As I felt the nylon collar between my fingers, hearing the slight jingle of his tags as I picked it up. It had to be a joke. Just a sick joke. But that wasn’t like Chelsea. She was sweet. She never went out of her way to scare or hurt anyone. 

“Ha, ha,” I deadpanned. “You cooked the cat. Really funny joke. You got me.” Another thud from above, but this time, I saw something drop into the backyard. Instead of investigating the soup pot further, I walked slowly outside to see what had dropped on the ground. 

It was another white envelope. I opened it, hoping that this was the last step and Chelsea would pop out to scare me. Maybe some of my friends had talked her into it, and they were hiding somewhere in the house, too. It had to be a prank. There was no other explanation… 

Peter,

I’ve been waiting all day. Come upstairs. I promise you won’t regret it. 

Kisses, 

Chelsea

This was getting to be ridiculous. I looked up to see where the note came from. There was a small attic window above me. There was also our bedroom window just below that. I sighed. This was going to end now. It wasn’t funny anymore. 

“Chelsea!” I yelled as I stomped back in the house. “This is stupid! I’m coming upstairs!” I took the steps two at a time, not to get up there quicker, but to make my presence known. I was the man of the house. No one was going to toy with me like this. Not even my girlfriend. 

“Chelsea!” I screamed in the hall.

Thud. Thud. 

The sound was still above me. I glanced into our bedroom, and nothing looked out of place. The mattress was still on the floor because I hadn’t had time to build the frame. Boxes were still being used as nightstands. I stepped in, and I noticed as I came around the corner that the closet was in shambles. Chelsea had neatly unpacked our clothes and had already set up the closet. Everything that was on hangers now covered the floor. Boxes half unpacked were turned over, childhood memories and gifted heirlooms from our families scattered. 

I looked up. The attic access was open. There was no ladder, and I wasn’t quite tall enough to reach it on my own. I looked around. The step ladder was back in the corner of the closet, turned on its side. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. I didn’t know what I was going to find in the attic, but whatever it was, it couldn’t have been Chelsea.

I sucked up my fear and grabbed the stepladder. I took the first step. Then the second. By the top step, my head was fully in the attic space. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I couldn’t see anything at first. If Chelsea had set this up as a prank, now would have been the time for her to jump out. I waited a second. And another. Everything was quiet and still. I pulled myself up fully into the attic and stood. There was really nothing in the space. I couldn’t stand up all the way because there was quite enough headroom for me. 

A creak came from behind. I turned around and there, in the far corner, was Chelsea. But she wasn’t there to scare me. Instead, she was tied up to an old chair. Tears streamed silently down her face over one of her silk scarves she often tied around her neck in the spring. Instead, it was tied tightly around her mouth. I started to walk over to her, but I was hit in the back of the head. 

Disoriented, I turned around. I didn’t see anyone at first, but my vision is blurred. There could have been someone, maybe someone small, over in the shadows just past the window. I don’t know whether to continue trying to help Chelsea, or to go after the invisible threat.

I hesitated for a moment too long. What came out of the shadows was not a ghost or a monster—it was my ex-girlfriend.

Tracy and I hadn’t ended our relationship on good terms, but I hadn’t heard from her since the day we had broken up, months before I met Chelsea. What could Tracy possibly want from me now? 

I didn’t have time to ask. She took another swing at me with something that she had in her hand. I couldn’t see what it was, but it created a horrible thud against my skull. Before I could get my bearings, I was pushed down out of the attic. I fell and knocked over the stepladder. Somehow, Tracy scrambled down and stepped over me to get out of the attic. She was a small woman. I didn’t remember her having that kind of strength. 

I needed to get up. I had to get Chelsea out of the attic. But before I could get up, I smelled something. It wasn’t the smell from the kitchen. It was closer, and much more dangerous. Something was on fire. The flames were above me. I could see the orange glow through the attic access. 

I wanted to be the big hero. I wanted to walk through those flames to get to Chelsea and save her. Instead, I passed out.

***

“Right now, she’s not in any pain,” the nurse assured me. I was dressed up in protective gear sitting next to Chelsea’s hospital bed. The first responders were able to get me out of the house with only a little smoke inhalation, but Chelsea wasn’t so lucky. Burns covered half of her body, and she was heavily sedated to prevent her from crying in pain. 

The nurse gently touched my shoulder. I smiled, but she couldn’t see it through my mask. “Maybe you need a break. Go get some coffee.” I didn’t want to leave Chelsea’s side, but a break sounded good. 

I had coffee. I checked emails. I gave Chelsea’s family an update, even though there was no changes to report. I dreaded going back up there, watching her suffer like that, but it was the only thing that I could do. I told the police everything about Tracy and what happened that day. They took my version with a grain of salt due to my head injury. The officials inspecting the fire found bad wiring in the attic. They said Tracy had never been near our house. She moved to Europe two years ago, according to her family. The police were still following up on that, but they assured me she was no threat. 

Back in Chelsea’s room, I was hit with the smell of roses—the same flower petals that had been in the note that day. I knew that white envelope I spotted lying on the pillow next to her was out of place. I hesitated to grab it, but it was addressed to me. I opened it, but I didn’t want to read it. I already knew it was bad news. 

Peter,

I can’t wait for our date tonight. It’s been so long. I have so much to tell you. 

I’ll make sure nothing gets in our way this time. 

Love,

Tracy