Call of the Wild

CALL OF THE WILD

Charlotte rested in her twin bed tucked away and alert, predicting the nightly visitor she had become familiar with. That night, the rain drips sounded loud, louder than ever before, knocking against the glass window. So heavy the rain falls, Charlotte is reminded of her Pa’s hollow guitar he used to play, sounding her and her younger brother Ted off to bed. Trying to fall asleep, she secured herself beneath the hand woven quilt her mama had given her. It’s soft texture made her smile briefly. However, she is unable to relax and enjoy the memory for too long because Uncle Pete would show up soon for his usual nightcap – at least that’s what he’d call it.

Each raindrop brought about a memory. Sitting in the back of the Detroit police car, she sees the sheriff ring the doorbell of her Aunt Francis’ home. When the front door of their suburban home swings open, Charlotte and her younger brother Ted are motioned to emerge from the vehicle. Grabbing his hand, Charlotte leads the way to her mama’s sister’s front steps where she thought they would be safe. Uncle Pete welcomes them anxiously. Another raindrop made her think of her mother’s carefully crafted pancakes that she made every Saturday morning. She could smell the sweet syrup as she envisioned her mama holding the spatula. An even harder raindrop meeting the window pane made her think of her Pa’s guitar song and she halfway giggled to herself singing, “Up up and away the wind blows is the way the mosquito must go.”

Charlotte loved when it rained. It made her think pleasant thoughts. Mama and she would sometimes just sit and listen to the rain. Mama said when it rained, God’s heart was beating louder and the harder it rained, the more lives He was saving. She said God’s heartbeats would bring peace to the world. Since Mama and Pa died, Charlotte pleaded for rain. Rain was like home for her. It was nights like tonight that made Charlotte surrender to the meek and unfamiliar house that she and Ted now resided. Not too often did sleep defeat her, except when the rain came.

Then the familiar sound came, the sound of the doorknob jiggling. That sound came to be called THE CALL OF THE WILD. Every time Charlotte heard the doorknob jiggle, she knew it was Uncle Pete. He had a strong presence and a dank aroma to him. He always came about the same time, just past midnight when Aunt Francis was well asleep and the rest of the house was still. Frequently, Charlotte would watch for the doorknob to turn as the moonlight cast a dim light on the bedroom door. At first, during his cunning entrances, Charlotte always gritted her teeth, pinned her eyes tight, and clutched her quilt as she pretended to be asleep. But his coarse hands wrestled through the covers as he tried to find her budding body leaving her fully alert with eyes wide-open. One paw masked her mouth and the other paw gripped her frail body, positioning her in an unpleasant angle before Uncle Pete abruptly entered her. At the end of each escapade, he let out a quirky moan before getting up to adjust his clothing. Then he would plant a kiss on her forehead and exit her room as if nothing ever happened. Charlotte used to scream and fight him off but her child-like body had become numb to his “night caps.” Instead, she prayed God would save more lives and end THE CALL OF THE WILD.