One Summer Night
In The Middle Of Her Childhood
by Steven L. Schiff
Little Nicola held her breath as she crept out of her bed and tip-toed to the window,
as silently as possible. A large bright moon shone through the window, filling her with
the thrill of anticipation. The child quickly pulled on shorts and a top, then quietly
opened her bedroom window and climbed through to the great outdoors. No one saw her leave,
not Mommy, not Daddy, no one. She was going to the playground. How exciting it would be to
play at night, in the dark.
Exciting! That's what Mark had said. "It'll be awesome, Nicky. Really
awesome!" he'd told her. And Mark was always right as far as Nicola was concerned.
You see, she liked Mark a lot. He was her best friend in the whole wide world, for a boy.
Even at the age of ten, Mark knew how to have a good time. He had sneaked out of his
bedroom window, too, and had shined his official cub scout flashlight through Nicola's
window. That's how she knew when to leave the house. She certainly had no intention of
sneaking outside before Mark gave the signal. That would mean being outside, alone, in the
dead of night. She was, to be quite honest, scared of the dark. But Mark was brave. He had
walked the five dark blocks to Nicola's house all by himself. You couldn't get Nicola to
do that. No sir. But Mark was a boy, after all. And everyone knew that boys weren't afraid
of anything.
"Hi," she said to her cub scout hero.
"You coming, Nicola?" he asked.
"Yeah, I'm coming," she replied.
"Dave said you wouldn't. He said you were chicken."
"I'm not chicken," she stated emphatically. "I'm ready for some
fun!"
"It'll be so cool. We'll have the whole playground to ourselves," said Mark
as he started off down the street. Nicola quickly followed.
Cricket's chirping softly in nearby bushes attracted Nicola's attention. In the light,
she knew they were just icky bugs, but now . . .
"Those are just crickets I hear, right Mark?" she asked.
"What's the matter? You're not scared, are you?" Mark asked, wondering if
the girl was going to wimp out on him.
"No, I'm not scared. I was just wondering, that's all. I'm not scared," she
said.
"Women!" said Mark. "You're all alike---all goody-goody scardy
cats."
"You take that back, Mark Wilson," said Nicola, giving the boy a good shove,
knocking him, butt first, onto the ground.
"OK, Nicola. Stop it," he said as he pulled himself to his feet. "I was
just kidding." Quickly, a truce was declared and they continued on towards their
destination.
As they walked, Nicola watched the stars. They looked like a gigantic follow-the-dot
game in the sky. It was neat.
"How far away are they?" she asked.
"What?"
"The stars, silly."
"Oh, they're far. Farther than Florida, even," he said, quoting what he'd
learned from his dad.
"That is far," Nicola replied.
#
John Jameson was not what Nicola would have called 'a nice man.' He was a petty thief,
drug dealer and high stake's gambler. And now, he was afraid for his life. Because John
Jameson owed some men a lot of money. And these guys were now threatening to hurt John,
badly.
"Hey look," John pleaded. "I need a few more days. In a few more days,
I'll have your money. Every cent. The interest, too. I promise. Just give me time.
"John," said Big Al, his chief creditor. "You've had enough time. So,
if you want to stay healthy, you'll have all of the money for us tonight, by
midnight."
"But . . ."
"No 'buts' Johnny. You will have the money. It's that's simple. You will have the
money." The creditor and his men flexed oversized biceps and triceps menacingly, for
John's benefit.
Now, John Jameson was really desperate. Because he had no money. He didn't even have a
quarter to make a phone call. He certainly didn't have their $15,000. But, he did have a
small pistol which he'd kept hidden from his landlady. Hidden in a small brown shoe box,
underneath his bed. He'd never used it before. He'd never needed to.
"OK, I'll get the cash, somehow," he said to the creditor.
"Fine, then we'll be back here in a few hours," Al informed him.
"No. We can't meet at my place. My landlady'll get suspicious."
"Tell us where to meet you, then."
"At the playground over by the elementary school, at midnight. I'll have all the
money for you, then. I promise."
"Fine, Just don't disappoint us, buddy."
#
Nicola thought it was neat to be alone in the playground.
"Look Mark, it's all ours. Isn't it creepy?"
"I ain't afraid," he said. "But yeah, it is a little creepy."
They stood quietly for a while, observing the dark monkey bars, unused sliding board
and see-saw, and the empty sand box. Nicola half expected to see ghost children, rising
from the sandbox and floating through the air.
"Well," she said. "Let's play."
"Ok," said Mark. But a moment later, they were both still watching the
stars, watching the playground, watching the night.
#
John Jameson was nervous. He was shaking so badly at 10:30 that he couldn't hold on to
a glass. He smoked one, two, three marijuana cigarettes in hopes of settling his nerves.
But at twenty to twelve, he still felt uneasy. "Damn", he thought. "Cheap
dope."
He found the brown box underneath his bed. He opened it. There was the little pistol,
just where he'd left it. Several bullets rolled around the bottom of the box, waiting to
be put to a greater purpose.
John reviewed his options one more time. Maybe if he called his brother; maybe his
brother could lend him the money. But that was unlikely. His brother was almost always
broke. It cost a lot of money to raise those four kids of his. Maybe he could get some
money from his landlady. He'd go to her room, knock on the door, hold out a cup and ask
for $15,000. And then what would she do, kick him out of the house? Probably, or maybe
she'd call the cops on him. There were no good options. So John decided it was time to
stop fooling himself.
John loaded his gun, carefully, watching each bullet ease its way into the chamber.
Then, he popped an 'upper' to force himself into action. A few minutes later, he grabbed
his coat, shoved the gun into his pocket and started for the door.
His landlady, dressed in robe and curlers, and framed in the doorway to her private
rooms, peered down at him, intently.
"Where are you going at this time of night?" she asked. He did not answer.
He just gestured as if to say that he was going for a walk.
"You'd better not come back here, drunk," she warned. "If my kids ever
see you sloppy drunk again, you'll be looking for a new place to live."
"I'm just going to meet some friends," he said as he bolted out the door,
leaving security behind.
#
"Hey Mark, who's that guy sitting over there?" Nicola asked, seeing a figure
moving through the nearby trees.
"I dunno. Just some guy."
"Is he watching us?"
"Nah. He's just an old goof. Probably just came here to get away from his
girlfriend or something."
Nicola climbed to the top of the jungle gym to get a better look.
"So, what's he doing?" Mark asked.
"Just sitting there by that big oak tree. He looks kinda weird."
"Let me see," said Mark, joining Nicola at the top of the jungle gym.
"Ok, look. He's waiting for his friends. They're down the street, see. And now, look,
he's waving to them. They just wanna have some fun, like us. Do you wanna join 'em?"
"No way. My mother told me never to talk to strangers."
#
John Jameson saw his "friends" approaching. They looked mean and determined.
And step by step they drew closer and closer. They didn't hurry or even return his waves
of greeting. Why? Why didn't they acknowledge his presence in some way? Because they were
trying to unnerve him; torture him with fear.
#
Nicola climbed down from the jungle gym. "Mark, let's get out of here," she
said.
"Why?"
"Because, I don't want those men to see us. They might get mad if they find out
we've been spying."
"Stop being a baby," said Mark as he climbed down the gym.
"Relax."
"I don't wanna stay here no more." cried Nicola. "I'm scared and I want
to go home."
#
John's 'friends' drew closer and closer. Closer and closer. Suddenly, John knew it was
time for action. So he drew out his pistol and fired. He hit Big Al right in the stomach.
In a flash, the others were on his back, beating him with their fists. The pain was
intense. They pounded and kicked him over and over and over again.
#
Mark and Nicola heard the shot. They saw one man fall to the ground, moaning and
bleeding. Then, they saw the other men begin to punch, beat and kick the man with the gun.
Nicola started to scream and scream. She had never screamed so loudly before. And Mark
could not quiet her by calling her a sissy. He was too scared to talk.
#
John Jameson's 'friends' heard screams in the darkness. They had been spotted, now was
the time to flee, before the police arrived. Big Al was bleeding into the grass, turning
the green blades red with his blood. But they weren't concerned. He'd just have to bleed
to death, because they were not going to be caught. So, they dropped Jameson to the
ground, gave him a final vicious kick, and ran off into the night.
#
John Jameson was barely conscious. He felt as though he'd been torn into little
pieces. All he could hear were these blood- curdling screams. But at least the pounding
had stopped.
Big Al felt his life pouring out of him onto the cool grass of the playground. His
mind was growing dark, losing awareness. And he couldn't move a muscle.
Mark had climbed into the sandbox and was now huddling and shaking silently in a dark
corner.
Little Nicola just screamed and screamed and screamed until the neighbors came. Until
the neighbors came to fix everything. To make things right again. Oh, how she wished she
had just stayed home in bed.