Rosado Lane

Once the sun began setting on the Sunday before Memorial Day, Vic Soward and I walked up his backyard to the bonfire. Six of our friends sat in lawn chairs listening to the radio blast The Only Way Out by Bush. Some just drank, others roasted hotdogs and marshmallows. Many others were laughing and drinking near the woods. I noticed a girl, sitting alone, away from the fire, on a tree-stump closer to the trees. Her curly blonde hair was in a pin and she wore a red shirt with glitter and blue-jeans. I'd never seen this girl before.

"Who's the girl?" I asked Vic.

Vic glanced at her. "Not sure. Never seen her before." He sipped his drink. "Must've come with somebody."

"I'm glad somebody invited her."

He smiled. "Well, go get her, ladies man."

I grabbed a bottle of Rolling Rock from the ice and walked over to her. She noticed me coming and smiled.

I held it towards her. "Want a beer?"

"Thanks," she said. "I had a few already. I wasn't going to drink anymore but--"

"No, don't quit now." I squatted beside the tree-stump. "What's your name?"

She continued smiling. "Shannon."

"Are you a friend of Vic's?"

She shook her head. "Don't know Vic."

That confirmed what Vic said--they didn't know each other. And I saw her first.

"Did you come with friends?"

"No." She continued smiling and our faces got close so we could hear each other over the loud music. "Whenever there's a party or a lot of people somewhere, I just show up and hope my ex-boyfriend isn't there."

"You don't have a boyfriend, anymore?" I sipped my drink and placed my palm on her hand--which was cold.

She looked away. "I'm not too happy with men. My ex was super possessive and my dad took off when I was a little girl. Men are just selfish jerks."

I moved my hand to her thigh. "We're not all bad. I'd treat you right."

She turned back to me and our lips were about an inch apart. Then she turned away again. I closed my eyes and lowered my head, but still rubbed her leg.

"You should just forget my name and that you ever saw me here."

I removed my hand from her leg. "Can't do that, Shannon. Now that we know each other, I can't forget you. And I don't want to."

She lowered her head and sighed. "Want to sit closer to the fire? It's warmer there." She just sipped her beer. Finishing my drink, I stood and went to get another.

~~~OOO~~~ Ten minutes later, I looked back at the log Shannon sat on. She wasn't there. "Where'd your girl go?" asked Vic, noticing my gaze. "Not sure. Hopefully she didn't leave." A ringing noise came from Vic's pocket. He removed his cell phone and checked the caller, "It's my dad." I looked back at the log Shannon sat on, then to Vic, who walked away answering the call. Wobbling, I followed him. "Yeah, Dad, sounds good. I'll see you tomorrow." I approached him. "Everything cool?" "He just called to check up." "Didn't sound like he thought anything was happening." As Vic and I came back to the fire, Shannon sat on the stump again.

"Your girl's back, R.J." "I see that." My heart beat faster as I approached her, forgetting about Vic and everything else going on. She stared at me as I approached--but didn't smile. Also, her face was pale and lacked the brightness it had earlier. But that didn't deter my desire to speak to her again. Radioactive by Imagine Dragons blared when I crouched next to her. "What do you think of this song?" She faced forward. "Never heard it before." "What do you listen to?" "I like Alanis Morissette and Hootie and the Blowfish." I shook my head. "I think I've heard of them." Minutes later, Liz and Bethany came over, smiling. "Who's your friend, R.J.?" asked Liz. "Her name's Shannon." Shannon turned her head and sighed. "She wants me to forget her name," I laughed. "But I told her I couldn't." "R.J.'s an okay guy, Shannon," smiled Liz. Shannon turned to me and opened her eyes wide.

"What's R.J. stand for?"

"Ronald James." Sitting next to her, I did not want to leave her side. She consumed my thoughts and I wanted to know everything about her. "Where do you go to school?"

She laughed. "I went to Ashvalle High School. I graduated in '96."

She couldn't be serious. She looked like a teenager and she claimed to have graduated 20 years ago. "Do you live around here?"

"I live on Rosado Lane."

"Where's that?"

"Not far. Just make a left off Oak Avenue and it's about a mile away off Armstrong Road."

I lived two miles away in that direction. I couldn't recall ever seeing a Rosado Lane.

Liz laughed. "Okay, we'll leave you two alone. We're going to refill our drinks." She and Bethany walked away.

"Do you have a ride home, Shannon?"

Sipping her drink, she didn't look at me. "I walked."

"I can take you home. It'll be quicker--and maybe safer than walking."

She giggled, "You won't give up, will you?"

I laughed.

"I suppose you could drive me to the street. But don't follow me after dropping me off. You can't go there."

I figured that meant she didn't want me knowing where she lived. I reminded myself that she was twenty years older than me and maybe the ex-boyfriend she spoke of could've been a still-is-boyfriend, or husband.

~~~OOO~~~

About an hour later, she was ready to leave.

I waved to everybody. "See you all later."

Vic grinned, watching us walk away.

Opening the passenger-side door to my blue Ford Escape, Shannon hopped in.

As I backed out of the driveway, she said, "Remember, just drop me off at my street."

"I know, Shannon."

No streetlights lit Armstrong Road as I drove, making it darker, and I noticed a slight mist and there were no other cars on the road.

She pointed ahead. "Pull over there on the left."

I saw a sign that said Rosado Lane and pulled into the road. A small white one-story house sat to my left. With the darkness, I couldn't see the other homes on the street.

Turning to her, I hoped for a kiss. But she stepped out of the car and closed the door without thanking me. Backing onto Armstrong Road, I looked at where I dropped Shannon off, but couldn't see her in the haze.

~~~OOO~~~

Waking after 10:00, I grabbed my cell and noticed three texts from Vic.

3. You lucky bastard you! 2. How's that girl you left with? 1. What did you do after you left?

I deleted each text--then called Vic. He answered with a loud burp. "So how'd it go, R.J.?"

"Well, ahh," I laughed. "Maybe I'll just leave you wondering about that."

"What? You ain't gonna tell me?" His words were slurred. He was hung-over. Or maybe he'd never stopped drinking.

"She actually doesn't live too far from me. There's no car here now, so I guess I'll ride my bike to her place."

"You don't want her seeing you on a bike, dude." He paused. "Not after you drove her home. I got my car. I

can pick you up and come too."

"Hell no, Vic. She's too mature for you."

He laughed loudly.

"That babe was actually in her late thirties. Wonder what she looked like when she was our age."

"No way, dude. She just told you that so you'd leave her alone."

That caused me to wonder if she'd been honest. "Well, I'm going to see her now. I'll find out the truth."

"You're going to look like an ass on your bike."

"Talk to you later, Vic." After hanging up, I put on a pair of shorts and a sweat-shirt, and then began riding to Rosado Lane.

When I reached the intersection near Luigi's Restaurant, I knew Rosado Lane was close by. I kept going and then I came to an area with a short blacktop road followed by a slide, two swing-sets, and a pavilion in the distance. In the five years I'd lived here, I'd never been to or paid much attention to this little playground. Thinking the turn to Rosado Lane must be further up the road, I went even further, but when I reached Oak Avenue, I knew I went too far. So I turned around. Checking every back road, I still couldn't find Rosado Lane.

I noticed an older man playing catch in a front yard with a small boy. I stopped, "Excuse me."

He looked at me, tossing the baseball to the boy.

"Yeah?"

"Do you know where Rosado Lane is?"

He shook his head. "Never heard of it."

"It's around here somewhere. I dropped somebody off there last night."

"Well, I've lived here three years and I've never heard of it. Lady next door's been living in this neighborhood over thirty years. She might know."

"Thanks." I rode my bicycle along the sidewalk to the next house. I lowered the kickstand next to the small blue porch, walked up the steps, and knocked on the door. Nobody answered, so I knocked again.

A small elderly lady with curly gray hair and wrinkled skin answered. "How may I help you, young man?"

"Can you tell me where Rosado Lane is?"

Her mouth opened slightly and her eyes widened. "Did you know someone who lived there?"

Lived there? "Yes. I dropped somebody off there last night."

She slowly tilted her head down and I couldn't see her eyes. "Where did you drop them off at?"

"Right at the entrance to Rosado Lane."

She shook her head. "You couldn't have. All of the houses on that street--there were only three--burned down about twenty years ago."

I flinched. "No, I dropped a girl, Shannon, off there last night."

"I'm sorry, young man, you must be mistaken. That little street was turned into a playground. It doesn't exist anymore."

"Okay, thank you." I turned and walked away, not wanting to believe her. I told myself she was elderly and probably delusional.

~~~OOO~~~

At home, I pulled out my cell, got on the internet and Googled Rosado Lane. An article was in our local paper from October of 1996, "Houses on Small Street Burned Down." It read, "Charlotte O'Connell, 37, and her daughter, Shannon O'Connell, 18, perished in a fire allegedly set by Shannon's ex-boyfriend. Police report that John Dancer, 18, broke into the O'Connell home around 1:00 am and doused the residence in gasoline. Dancer lit the fatal fire before setting two other homes ablaze on Rosado Lane. Dancer was arrested and charged with both arson and murder.

Reading it, my hands shook and I gasped with uncertain feelings towards Shannon. Because she wasn't dead--I saw her at the party. I wondered if I could've been

reading about a different Shannon. I also pondered if she was believed dead, but still alive. I scrubbed my face with both hands.

Lying on my bed, watching the ceiling fan circle, I had the thought that the Shannon I knew was a ghost--but then quickly dismissed the idea because I never believed in the paranormal. I thought all of the ghost stories on television were just people out for attention. The Celebrity Ghost Stories were all just washed-up actors and actresses trying to seem relevant.

My cell phone rang and I let it go to voicemail. I really didn't feel like talking, but after a few minutes I checked the message. It was from Vic, "R.J., your girl was in my backyard again, sitting on the tree stump--ha, ha--I went out to see her and as I got closer to her--ha, ha--she stood up and ran into the woods. Ha, ha. Maybe she's looking for you. So come on over."

Not up for dealing with him, I deleted the message. Also, I didn't want to think about or see Shannon anymore. Seeing a girl that was reported dead twenty years ago was too strange for me to handle. Obviously, there'd been something strange going on with her family. But I didn't want to tell Vic what I learned. So I had to think of a good lie.

~~~OOO~~~

Later, it occurred to me what I'd tell Vic. So I took the Ford Escape to his place. On the way, curiosity got the better of me and I wanted to see this playground that supposedly was once Rosado Lane.

I parked on the side of the road and got out to investigate. I roamed through the grass, passing a blue swing-set, a red slide, and a yellow merry-go-round before I turned and headed toward the gray pavilion.

Near it, I noticed two large trees marked by signs anchored in the ground. One memorial read, "Dedicated to the Memory of Charlotte O'Connell." The other read, "Dedicated to the Memory of Shannon O'Connell." I shook. Something was terribly off.

Then I heard my name in a soft voice.

I turned and saw Shannon. Her bloodshot eyes were opened wide. Her hair was disheveled and her skin very pale. I was seeing her ghost! I bolted to the truck.

I drove to Vic's. After knocking twice, a shirtless Vic answered, holding a bottle of Rolling Rock. "R.J., what's up, man? That honey you were talking with was roaming around out here. Think she was looking for you? Or maybe she saw me at the party and came back looking for me."

Staring at him, I remembered the lie I prepared. "She told us the truth. She's twenty years older than us and has a husband. He doesn't like her going out."

He laughed. "Sounds like an asshole."

"Yeah, when I dropped her off, he was waiting for her. As I sped away, I heard him yell, `If I ever catch you around my wife again, I'll kill you.' She ain't worth all of that. I just want to forget about her."

His head slowly shook as he walked. "Sounds like she'd be more trouble than she'd be worth."

I sighed. "Right."

"So I guess that means she's mine for the taking. Where'd you say she lives again?" He laughed. "I can stop and pay her a visit. Her old man didn't say he'd kill me."

"No, Vic. You can't go there." Pausing, I realized that was the same thing she'd told me. "Her husband will just think you're me."

He teetered onto the porch.

"Just forget about her."

He laughed. "I know what your problem is. You can't deal with the fact that she came back here looking for me and not you!"

"It's not like that, Vic."

Biting his lip, he slapped me hard across the face.

I growled and shoved him hard--so hard that he fell back against the hard concrete--so hard that when he hit, his head bounced. He lay there motionless, and his left eye was slightly open. I began to panic.

"Vic!"

He didn't respond. I placed my hand to the back of his head and raised it. There was blood on my palm.

"Oh, God, no. Please, no. Vic, wake up!"

Placing my head in my hands, I cried uncontrollably as Vic's blood smeared my face. Slowly backing away from him, I tried to calm down by taking deep breaths.

I went inside to the kitchen sink and washed the blood from my hands and face, then made sure it all washed down the drain. I noticed a pack of Newport cigarettes and a lighter on the counter. I removed a cigarette. With my hand shaking, I lit it.

Back on the porch, I sat on the bench and stared at Vic's body. I wondered what to do with him. If I could get his body up to the tree-stump where I first saw Shannon, I could place the back of his head against the log and make it look like he fell backwards. But I didn't believe I could carry him up the hill. Plus, the blood flowing from his head might leave a path from the porch to the stump. If I drug him up there, that would also leave a trail. Inhaling cigarette smoke, I wept uncontrollably.

I put out the cigarette and concluded that it was best to leave Vic where he lay. With all the beer he had drunk, maybe it would look like he fell back on his own.

I hoped none of the neighbors noticed me as I sprinted to the Ford. I was still crying when I pulled onto Armstrong Road. I thought about going back to the house to call the police and turn myself in.

No. After these past two days, I never wanted to see Vic's house again. Bawling more, I thought about making the call to the police from my house.

The Ford Escape began puttering as I neared the playground. The fuel-gauge showed more than half full. What's going on? I tried to turn to the right but the steering wheel had a mind of its own. It swung hard to the left and the Ford's engine cut off, forcing me to stop right in front of the playground.

I shifted into Park, popped the hood, and quickly exited the vehicle. I opened the hood and looked at the engine.

"R.J."

It was Shannon's voice.

"R.J., Help me."

I whirled around and unintentionally made eye contact. She walked closer and her nose was smashed and bleeding. Blood ran down her chin and her hair was disheveled.

"He's coming after me, R.J."

She fell into my arms and placed her face onto my chest. Her fingernails gripped my biceps with such force I felt my skin split.

"Get off me!" I tried to push her away.

"Please help me, R.J."

"You're not real!" I was able to push her down to the ground, where she slumped and cried loudly. Blood covered my shirt. Everyone would believe it was Vic's.

She yelled my name as I slammed the hood and dove back inside the automobile. I was relieved that the engine actually started, and I sped away. I knew the police would be after me--at least for questioning. There was no way I could stay here. I'd be arrested for sure. So I just planned on driving as far away as I could. I'd drive the Escape until it ran out of gas-- not caring where I ended up or what my parents would do about it. I just knew I couldn't return. Justin Fleischman