charlie maxfield is a creeper,part 3

Quietly, Caroline climbed out of bed. She slipped into her tennis shoes and found a spiral notebook and pencil in her backpack. Finally, she pulled on her blue coat with the fur-trimmed hood over her nightgown then, placing an ear against her bedroom door, she listened. No TV. No talking. No cleaning sounds. Slowly she turned the knob and stepped out into the hall.

The September wind blew a cold jab at Caroline’s ears as she made her way down the rain mottled stretch of sidewalk toward Charlie’s house. She was humming “Yes, Jesus Loves Me” in tempo with her steps. Using her free hand, she pulled her hood up. The plan formulating in her head was to look in all the Maxfield’s windows without being seen until she found out which bedroom was Charlie’s, then she’d come back and watch him for a little while each night and make a list of all the creepy things she saw him doing. Maybe she’d even catch him leaving his house to go be the creeper. Then, she’d take her list to the police, they would arrest Charlie for being sick in the head, and they would probably have a parade for her or something.

The Maxfield’s porch light glowed a dull gold but the windows were black. The houses in her neighborhood all looked nearly the same: Low-slung, single story ranch-styles with brick exteriors and two or three steps leading to a cement stoop below the front door.

Caroline crossed the still damp grass and stopped at the first window along the side of the house. She crouched down beneath it then slowly stood until her eyes were just above the sill. The blinds were closed tight. She couldn’t see a thing. A loud, snoring sound escaped through the glass. It sounded like a dad kind of snore. She moved to the next window. There was a flower bed beneath it full of white, clumpy flowers, a large rock in the middle. Caroline stepped up on to the rock and looked in through the darkened window. The blinds were open just enough to see in. A nightlight in one of the outlets cast a dim glow across the room. Caroline could make out a single lump in the bed. Knowing that the Maxfield’s only had Charlie, she knew this had to be him. She watched for several minutes, her eyes adjusting to the pale light until the outlines of Charlie’s messy hair, and the steady rise and fall of his breathing became clear. She watched him sleep for a few minutes Nothing else happened. She climbed down off the rock then sat on it. Finding an empty page in her notebook she wrote:

Wednesday: He is sleeping. He does not snore. His Dad does.

***

Caroline knew if she was going to catch Charlie doing anything besides sleeping, she’d have to go watch him earlier tonight. When Mom and Aunt Janet brought out the ice cream and bowls after dinner, Caroline asked if she could be excused.

“I don’t feel like ice cream” she said, “Is it ok if I go to my room?”

“At 8:00?” Mom asked, one eyebrow raised.

“I want to listen to the preacher station on the radio before I have to go to bed” she said

“Sure, baby” she said “I’ll come tuck you in before I leave for work.”

“Do you have to work the night shift again?” Caroline asked.

“Just for a little while. It pays better. Aunt Janet will be here and you’ll be asleep. You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Caroline closed the door to her bedroom and pushed the Sleep button on her clock radio. The sound of a man’s voice layered over AM static filled her room “Give yourself to Jesus!” he said in a loud drawl, “Let him heal you! Let him take your heavy burden and make it light!”

She grabbed her pencil and notebook then climbed onto the desk beneath her window. Quietly, she slid the window open. At the end of summer her mom had taken the screens off to clean them. They were still in a pile in the garage. Caroline gathered up her long skirt and slid easily out the low, screenless window onto the grass.

It was slipping from dusk to dark as Caroline came to Charlie’s house. The windows were outlined with light. After making sure there were no neighbors out walking or working in their yards, she went right to his window and climbed onto the rock. The room was lit but empty. On the walls hung all kinds of maps and wildlife posters, and a long shelf with model cars of various sizes. A fat gray cat sleeping in the middle of Charlie’s bed raised its head slightly, looked indifferently at Caroline, and then closed its eyes again.

She moved over to his parent’s window. The blinds were open just enough for her to see in. It looked like one of those bedrooms she saw on the furniture store commercial. There was no one in that room either.

The window in the front of their house, the one looking into their living room, was a big, three-paned. bay-style one. There wasn’t room to crouch beneath it. Caroline wondered how she could look in it without being seen. She glanced across the street at the lightless house with a “For Sale” sign sticking out of overgrown grass. She’d heard her mom and aunt talking about how ‘the bank had got it’ and that it would probably take years for another family to buy it with real estate sales being so bad. There was a big Curly Willow tree growing in its front yard. Quickly, Caroline crossed the street. The tree had several low, forking branches that made it easy to climb. She settled into a spot, hidden amongst the leaves, with a fairly clear view into Charlie’s front window. Mr. Maxfield—tall like his son, but mostly bald-- was sitting at the dining room table sorting through a stack of papers. Mrs. Maxfield—in a sea foam green bathrobe-- was sitting at a spinet-style piano, Charlie next to her on the bench. They were playing together, Mrs. Maxfield reaching up from time to time and pointing at a spot on the sheet music. Caroline watched for five minutes then opened the notebook across her lap and wrote:

Thursday: They are doing plain family things like paying bills and playing piano. Charile is wearing a sweat suit instead of his brown windbreaker. This might be so that he can be comfortable when he goes to creep on people.