Bump in the Night

I've always given off the aura that I'm far more fearless then I probably am and to some degree this is true. I don't often flinch (my buddy Fo can confirm this since he's tried on countless occasions to make me do so and has failed miserably), I don't scream when bugs land on me (unlike some female friends (and a few male that I know)) and I feel as if facing down what makes me gulp hard is better than letting it defeat me. This characteristic isn't recent though, I guess somehow it's ingrained into the person I am since I was a child. Here's a memory for you (cause we know how much y'all just adore retelling of random stories by random bloggers which have no affiliation or connection to your existence):

One random summer when I was about 15ish or maybe even a bit younger, my dad and brother took a trip to India while my mother and I stayed behind. Ammu would insist that I sleep with her and at first whereas I wasn't cherishing the idea since I can be quite the recluse, as the summer progressed it was nice to chitchat with her till I drifted off to sleep, particularly when she would stroke my hair. I mean is there anything better then a mothers assuring fingers soothingly and lovingly coaxing you into beddie-bye? I would say not.

Anyway, one night we were both in bed, she was reading some Bengali magazine and I was engrossed into a book that I had my nose stuck in for days. The house was still and quiet, dark and peaceful...or so it had been. Now, we had a very small little cozy house, one floor and a basement. It was also old as hell. Old fashion crank windows, creaky floor boards and a lot of character. I so did love that house where I spent a
good chunk of my childhood.

It was due to the oldness and creakiness of the place that in the midst of peaceful silence, we heard something that we shouldn't have heard. Curious? Scared? Is the suspense building? Okay may be not yet...read on. Picture us in my mom’s big queen bed both reading avidly, the only sound was the soft flipping of pages. And all of the sudden there is the faintest of creak coming from somewhere in the vicinity of the living room, faint yes but still audible and unusual. That sound could only be heard if someone was walking through the living room. I wasn't clued into it immediately, neither was Ammu but at one point, the little hairs on my arms stood at edge as the tinkling sound of the china in our china cabinet drew our attentions. My head snapped up as did my mothers. We looked at each other and our eyes grew wide as yet again another now more distinct sound of footfalls could be heard.

Without a doubt, someone was in the house.

She asked me in a very low whisper whether the bedroom door was locked. I had responded, it was, something I did automatically before retiring for the night by habit. She next asked what we should do but my mind going in about 100 different directions while trying to figure out a game plan. What should we do? What should we do? Escape? But how? Hide? But where? Closet? Wouldn’t that be the first place someone would look? Under the bed? That would surely be the second. Could we squeeze out the narrow windows? But the fall could break our necks, or at least our legs. However, what could happen inside would be worse by far. Meanwhile without consultation, she called my aunt who lived down the street. She urgently asked my cousin to come quickly but I knew that before either they (one of my two male cousins) or even the police could arrive, a lot of things could go down. Surprisingly enough I wasn't terrified for myself, I was on 'protect the person who gave birth to me' mode.

Protection, I needed to protect us. I looked around and almost cried in relief.

There on her dressing table was an aerosol bottle of hair spray. It wasn't something she nor I used often but it had yet to be cast away and I murmured a prayer of sincere thanks to Allah (swt) since there was nothing else in the room that could be used as a reasonable weapon. Yes, believe it or not, I didn't think about crying, my first thought was to find a weapon and defend us. Uh huh, that's how I roll(ed).

At this point my mother was in fact freaking out, but silently (thank god) and I was trying my hardest to keep her calm while I snuck up to the door. Thankfully there was carpeting in the master bedroom which meant my footsteps were muffled. Pressing an ear to the door I strained to hear. The footfalls were distinct, no doubt about it. This wasn't our combined imaginations playing games on us, no indeed not. I felt Ammu come to stand behind me, her hands on my hips, her warmth against me, giving me renewed resolve that no matter what, I would have to protect her. I wasn't quite sure how, but I would do it.

Mulling the available options in my head, I suddenly felt my breath go. I don't know what it was, I wasn't sure even what part of my brain had registered it, but I knew that whoever it was, was right outside the door. I glanced back at my mother’s terror filled eyes, didn't think twice as I took one deep breath and suddenly screamed at the top of my lungs, "Whoever the hell is out there, you better get out, We've called the police and they'll be here any second!!!!" My mother gasped loudly as she jumped away from me for she hadn't expected that and definitely didn't expect the rest as I continued to scream, "I also have a gun in here and I'm not afraid to use it so get out before I blow your stupid head away!!" You're probably wondering how I remember this verbatim, if I can in fact but I assure you, that whole incident is burned into my cranium. I'll never forget that moment nor what I had said.

Anyhow, the next thing that happened was that whoever was on the other side of the door suddenly decided to retreat for we heard that pounding running steps of that person booking it through the house. We could not only hear the footfalls but the crazy clanging of the china dishes once again and then a slam in the distance. I'd never ever felt such relief yet my guard was still up. After all who was to say that whoever it was, wasn't still somewhere in the house just waiting? I had seen far too many horror movies to realize this was a possibility. We stayed put, huddled together as my mother was murmuring every sura she could think of while clinging to me. I however had a death grip on the hairspray still.

Eventually my cousins showed up, banging loudly on the front door while also ringing the bell like maniacs. If the intruder was still in the house, then they were stupid as a few seconds later sirens also joined the commotion. Even though Ammu didn't want me to, I shook her free while throwing open the door and barreling out into the hall, hairspray cocked and ready to fire.

Later one of the police dudes told my mother that I was brilliant for thinking of the hairspray and that I was a brave little girl. I guess so although that's not how I looked at it.

Oh well, that was ages ago yet I still remember it so vividly. Hold on though, this isn't the only story I have to tell. The reason I wrote this blog wasn't to just brag about what a fearless badass I am (or rather was) but actually to show that indeed even I jump at things that go bump in the night. Last Tuesday night I was home alone because P had gone on a short business trip out-of-town and therefore would spend an evening alone. This was fine by me. Throughout the history of our marriage P had gone to visit his parents back home in Bdesh for a few weeks every couple of years. When the rest of the family had been worried about me staying alone, I relished the idea of the 'alone' time. I can't recall even once being scared of the solitariness of my home. Again as I said before, I've always believed that if something was going to happen, it was going to happen, I most certainly couldn't/can't fight fate.

Back to Tuesday, I was sitting in the living room with the TV turned off stalking friends on Facebook when I heard something peculiar. My house is modest in size but does have a basement and I admit I don't venture down into it unless absolutely necessary. Mind you, it's a perfectly lovely basement, fully completed, furnished, very livable and comfy but hey, it's a basement right? I mean hello those horror movies have also taught me that the bad guys and monsters come up from the basement! That night was also super windy and the more intellectual part of my brain said that the sounds of the night was playing a role in freaking me out but the other emotional 'I'm after all human and holy hell is someone inside the house?' side took over as I quickly gathered all my crap and zoomed up the stairs to my bedroom. You would think I would have made a beeline out the house right, something that any reasonable person would do, right?  Nope, not me, that wasn't even an option.

Literally zipping up the stairs, I slammed the door of my bedroom behind me, punched the alarm on button and locked the door.

I guess my instincts are well in tuned with the 'fight or flight' concept, hmm? Yup, I am a badass (sometimes a bit creep-ed out but badass nonetheless).

**Update**  A good friend of mine posed a few questions regarding this blog and I realized it actually left the reader just slightly underinformed to some important details. 

The intruder from the first story in fact stole nothing.  Not even our brand new VCR (shush, stop laughing) or our state-of-the-art sound system with a slick record player (really, stop laughing) or the Atari console that sat in the middle of the floor of the family room (go on, get yourself off the floor).  Heck not even a candlestick was stolen.  The police couldn't figure out the motive since nothing was missing.  The entry point into the house had been one of those crank windows which had been carelessly left slightly ajar.  Not a single thing had been broken either. 

In the second story, my friend asked me if it had indeed been the wind.  The answer is yes (thank God!) and I'm so not complaining.