I loved to visit my grandmother, Thelma she insisted we call her, totally rejecting the common names, 'Grandma', 'Nan', 'Granny' that normal families used. Thelma and I had lots in common, like how we both loved sci-fi and would talk over lemonade about our latest reads.
She was into the classics and had a collection of signed paperbacks. She cherished each and every book and for each one was able to tell the name of the bookshop where she met the author and insist they signed the front page: 'To Thelma'. I'd often pick a respectfully worn story off the shelf to borrow, but my life wouldn't be worth living if I didn't return it next visit.
The letters from her correspondence with Heinlein were the pride of her collection. She could (and would) retell the contents of each old fashioned typed page from memory.
Today, I was going to make one of my mid-week impromptu visits, usually a product of procrastination to avoid study or something like that. It was a particularly warm day for this time of the year (even for Colorado Springs), and I had a craving for a glass or two of her special homebrew -- you know, traditional-like, with real lemons and ice -- she was awesome like that.
Driving up E Yampa, I couldn't keep my eyes off Pikes Peak; the mountain seemed strangely ominous as it towered in a haze over the town. I'm not sure how, but something about the pyramidal landmark was different. Also out of the ordinary was the white sedan parked out the front of Thelma's small sixties-style, red brick house. As I pulled up in the driveway, a man in a black suit who had been walking down the path to the front door saw me and dashed quickly back to his car, opened the driver's side door and jumped in.
I sat for a moment and watched the stranger's car. It didn't drive off like I wished it would. I could see through the windows that the guy just sat there at the wheel staring forward.
The man in the car gave me a really bad feeling, and it made me mad that he had business with Thelma, but was hiding from me -- I thought that he was one of those heavy-handed insurance people who was going to try and bully an old lady into a sale. I was going confront him, give him a serve about messing with my grandmother. But as I approached the car, he snapped his head around to face me -- he wore a hard stony expression -- eyes hidden by black shades. Maybe I've just seen too many movies, but he seemed to be the type of person who would holster a piece -- and use it.
I raced to the front door, "Thelma! Are you home?!" I called through the screen. I opened it, let myself in and warned, "You have to lock the front door. You're just inviting trouble leaving it open like this!" (today was not the first time I'd reminded her about that).
Thelma was resting on her couch when I entered the family room. As soon as she heard me, she jumped up and told me in an unusually anxious voice, "He's coming today. Today, he's finally coming!"
"Who's coming? That insurance man outside?", I opened the curtains to show her the car parked out the front.
"No, your father is coming home. He's coming to take me with him!"
I was stunned, this was not at all like Thelma's cheerful self, and I didn't know what to make of the words she had just said. I did know she was talking about my grandfather who went missing in 1967 when my dad was a kid. My heart stopped as the idea of dementia entered my thoughts. "Thelma, I'm Blair, Dad's at home cleaning out the garage."
She looked at me, as if for the first time. "Oh, Blair. I'm sorry." She sat back down and motioned me to move around to sit. "Shouldn't you be back at home giving your father a hand cleaning up, rather than visiting a foolish old lady like me?"
That's my Thelma, I thought (she wouldn't miss a beat).
I sat, but my concern for her wellbeing overrode a compulsion to make an excuse for my laziness, "Are you okay?"
"I received a help-me-Obi-Wan-Kenobi last night."
"A what?" she loved Star Wars, but this was odd.
"You know, a holographic message, but it wasn't Leia, it was my Gene, and he was young and in his uniform, so handsome, just like when they took him." She leaned forward, deadly serious and took me by the eyes, "He said he would come for me today."
My life changed at that moment. I didn't know what to say. Thelma never spoke about her late husband. I was just glad that I was here in her time of need. Thelma's mind was her greatest asset; it would be a tragedy if mental illness were to steal the shine from her final years. I changed the subject, "It's hot today. Let me make you a drink."
"You're a gem." She accepted the offer and sat back to relax in her chair.
I went to the kitchen and tried to call home on my cell phone. Mom was at work so Dad would have to do. I needed him to drop everything and come out to help. But, my phone, while fully charged, couldn't make a call. I tried the wall phone next to the breakfast table, but there was no answer.
In the fridge Thelma had a batch of lemonade ready-made. I poured a glass and took it to her.
"Here," I said, passing over the cool drink.
"Thank you, my Love"
"Thelma, I've got to go out for a few minutes, but will be back soon. Keep the door locked and don't open it for anyone, especially that idiot salesman outside."
That was the last time I ever spoke to my grandmother.
****
After leaving the house, I was ready to really confront the man parked outside. But, as I started down the path, his car took off. Good, I thought, at least we don't have to worry about him.
Thinking only about Thelma, I sprinted to my car and drove home to get Dad. We only lived a few minutes away, but after a mile, I had second thoughts about leaving Thelma alone. That creepo's car had turned to the right down the street -- the opposite direction to which I was traveling -- he could have easily doubled back. Damn it, I thought, this isn't right. So, I turned the car around thinking I'd get the cops to make sure Thelma was safe. But as I drove back up to the Thelma's house the white car was nowhere to be seen. Maybe I was just paranoid, but I had to double check that she was safe.
On testing the front door, I was relieved that it was still closed and locked. But, when I knocked and called out, there was no answer. I broke in through the bathroom window (like I used to do when I was a kid). Inside, Thelma was gone.
.fin
<◕.◕> this story now has a new home in the Area 51 Compilation by @ScienceFiction (with audio version!) https://www.wattpad.com/265084845-area-51-thelma-and-the-man-in-black