The Drawings

Micayla knocked loudly on the dark green door. The raging wind blew rain against her back and she pulled the hood of her jacket tighter around her face.
"I can't believe I already damaged my new car," she thought to herself. "Dad is going to kill me."
 Her thoughts were interrupted by an older man opening the door. He had thick white hair, glasses that perched at the end of his nose and he wore a dark red button up shirt under a beige cardigan with khakis and loafers.
"Can I help you?" he said, struggling to raise his voice over the storm.
"Yes. My name is Micayla and my car hit a pothole and blew a tire right there by that big tree ," she explained, pointing as if the old man would easily be able to see her black car through the darkness of the night.
"I don't have a spare so I tried to call a tow truck but my cell phone doesn't get service out here. I was hoping you might have a land line I can use."
"Of course, please come in," the old man invited, opening the door wider. Micayla stepped in and wiped her feet on the rug.
"I can't tell you how many people have hit that pothole," the old man said. "And most of them end up on my front porch just like you did."
"Oh wow, I'm sorry," Micayla answered, pulling her now soaking wet hood off her head and smoothing down her hair.
"That must get annoying."
"Not at all," the old man said, shaking his head. "I don't get many visitors out here in the boonies so it's nice when someone can drop by. Although I'd prefer it be under better circumstances."
"As do I," Micayla agreed. "Is your phone in here?" she asked, looking around the front room. A couch covered in blue and white fabric sat against one wall across from a small television. There was a fireplace at the other end of the room and many pictures of people Micayla did not recognize sat on the mantle.
"No the phone is in the kitchen," the old man said, gesturing down a short hallway. Micayla followed him into the kitchen which seemed even smaller than the modest room they had just left.
"It's hanging up right there," he said, pointing to the wall next to the sink. Micayla walked over to the phone.
"Do you know the number for the tow company?" the old man asked. Micayla giggled.
"I memorized the number for Roadside Towing from their corny radio commercials," she admitted. The old man smiled.
"They do have a great jingle. But I would recommend Ed's Towing company. They charge less and they get here faster."
"Oh well thanks but I don't know the number for them and Roadside was fine last summer when my brother got a flat tire out here."
  The old man's smile morphed into a frown, his thick gray eyebrows almost coming to a point on the bridge of his nose.
"Ed's is better," he said gruffly. "I have the number written on the fridge and I really think you should use it."
 Micayla was surprised at the change in his manner. All this fuss over a tow truck?
"Ok, if you have the number I suppose I can use Ed's Towing," she conceded, picking up the phone receiver and walking it across the room to the fridge where the number hung on a notecard.
"Well Ed is on his way with the truck now," she said a few moments later, placing the phone back in its holder on the wall.
"Would it be a huge trouble if I stayed here till Ed come? He said it would only be thirty minutes and not to sound like a baby but it's scary out there in the dark and the rain."
"No trouble at all," the old man said. "In fact I just put on a kettle for some tea."
"Oh that's very nice of you, thank you," Micayla said.
"I'm sorry I can't offer you any dry clothes," the man said, looking her up and down. "You're much shorter than me so anything I have would just hang off of you. But I could at least put your jacket in the dryer if you'd like."
"That would be lovely, thank you." Micayla said, taking off her wet jacket and handing it to the man.
"No problem at all," he replied, grasping it in one wrinkly hand. "I'll be right back."
Micayla watched him walk away, then looked around the kitchen. It was simple like the living room: white walls, a white fridge, small metal sink and a few odds and ends on the counters. There was a window across from her covered by dark blue curtains. Micayla walked over to it and pushed one aside peering out into the darkness.
 She assumed the window looked out over the backyard but there was no light so it was impossible to tell. She was about to let go of the curtain when a flash of lightning illuminated the sky. Out of the corner of her eye, Micayla caught sight of the yard. It was mostly grass with a few trees and in one corner next to a wooden fence there was a cluster of tiny white crosses sticking out of the ground.
 "Not much to see back there," the man's voice said suddenly. Micayla released the curtain and whirled around, startled. The man stood in the kitchen, his mouth set in a hard line, his eyes looking as if he could see right through her.
 "No I know," Micayla answered. "Your porch light must be burned out. I did see some crosses out there though."
 "Yeah I've buried some pets out there over the years," the old man replied, walking to a cupboard and pulling out two mugs. He set them down on the counter by the stove where the tea kettle was beginning to whistle and pulled two bags out of a canister.
"Would you mind if I used your bathroom?" Micayla asked. The old man stared at her silently for a moment, then smiled.
"It's down that hallway to the left," he said, pointing.
"Thanks," Micayla said. She walked down the hall and quickly came to the open bathroom door. When she emerged moments later, wiping her wet hands on her pants for lack of a towel, she noticed drawings hanging on both walls of the hallway. They were detailed sketches done with colored pencil. Each one had a similar setting, a man or woman asleep on a chair or a sofa. In the corner of each picture in elegant calligraphy was the name, Simon Plott.
 "Are those your drawings?" Micayla asked, as she walked back into the kitchen. "Are you Simon?" The old man nodded.
"Forgive me, I neglected to introduce myself. My name is Simon and yes those are my drawings."
"They're very good," Micayla praised. "I did notice a theme also. It seemed that all of the people in the pictures were asleep."
"Yes. I find it easier to paint people at rest. They do not move around," Simon explained, pouring hot water into the two mugs he had taken out. He lowered a tea bag gently into each one.
"Well what if they wake up? Would that not mess up you're picture?"
Simon gave her another long odd stare.
"They do not wake up," he said simply. "Tea?"
"Sure," Micayla said, taking a step toward the counter and reaching for a mug.
"That one is mine," Simon snapped, causing the girl to jump.
"This one is yours," he said more gently, pointing to the green mug. Micayla nodded and grabbed it by the handle, taking a long hot sip.
"Would you like to sit in the living room?
"Sure," Micayla said, turning and walking back down the short hallway to the front room. She took a seat on the blue and white couch and Simon sat across from her.
"So what brought you out here tonight?" he asked, settling in and crossing one long leg over the other.
"Well I was on my way to Smithville. My friend Joey got a great new job today and he invited me and some other friends to go have drinks to celebrate. I'm really happy for him and I'm upset now that I'm going to be late. I should have been paying more attention to the road."
"These country roads are poorly lit and it's even more dangerous when they're wet. But you'll be fine. Ed will be here any minute."
"I hope so. Are you and Ed friends?"
"You could say that I guess. I don't really have many friends. A few years ago I had a dog named Isabelle but she is gone now. Only pet I ever had but she was a darn good one."
 Micayla wrinkled her eyebrows in confusion. Hadn't Simon said he buried multiple pets in the backyard? Surely Isabelle, as good a pet as she was, did not merit an entire hillside of tiny crosses.
"You should drink your tea while it's still hot," Simon suggested, just as Micayla was about to question him yet again about the crosses.
"Oh of course. It's very good," she complimented. She took another sip and yawned.
"I have to say it is making me a bit sleepy."
"So you like my drawings?" Simon asked, changing the subject abruptly.
"Yes," Micayla answered. "I'm not much of an artist myself but I do love to admire others' work."
 She took another sip from her mug.
"In a few minutes I might make a good subject for one of your pictures," she said with a weak laugh. "I think I am about to fall asleep. What did you put in this tea?"
"It's my own special concoction," Simon told her. "Don't worry. I'll make sure Ed finds your car when he gets here."
"Well be sure to wake me up when he arrives. I want to get to Smithville as soon as possible."
Simon smiled.
"Don't you remember what I told you about the people in my drawings? They don't wake up."

   There was a knock on the front door and Simon rose from his chair to answer it.
"Ed, I was wondering when you would get here," he said, upon opening the door. "Come on in."
  Ed, also an older man but not as tall or with as much hair as Simon, stepped inside.
"I had to drive extra slow. These wet roads are tricky even for a big truck like mine."
 He looked over at the couch where Micayla lay still.
"I'm guessing it's her car I'll be destroying?"
"Yes sir. She was about to call Roadside but I convinced her to give you a ring instead."
Ed laughed and shook his head.
"Oh this game we play. You have a cross ready for her?" Simon nodded.
"I hope this rain lets up soon. I want to get her in the ground as soon as possible."
The two men stood in the living room staring at the lifeless girl on the couch.
"Do they feel any pain?" Ed asked, almost sounding sad.
"No, I've told you before they don't feel anything," Simon snapped. "I wanted to make sure of that and that's why I tried out the tea on Isabelle first."
 He punched his friend lightly on the arm.
"Now enough with the questions. Go take care of her car. I'll get out my pencils."