Valence Street

By Joshua Scribner

There were only ashes now, a pile of black in the backyard. Time to move on.

Karl wished it were more than pictures of her and the few things she'd left behind. He wished the actual woman were dispelled from this earth also.

That's when he heard it. A muffled sound. Could have been one of many things.

Then he heard it again, louder this time. Undeniably, someone was knocking at the front door.

On his way through the kitchen, he actually thought of taking another hit from the open bottle on the counter. But the thought was more of a reflex than anything. How many nights in a row had he drank now? It seemed like every night, since she had left.

He started to open the door, then stopped. He'd check first. Maybe it wasn't someone he wanted to let in, someone he didn't want to see him in his current state.

One look in the peephole, and something strange happened. There was suddenly a feeling in his entire body, a pulling. Or maybe it was just his drunken reaction to seeing a beautiful woman outside his door.

Whatever it was, he had to let her in. He opened the door.

And the attraction was even stronger. And he thought she might have it too, seeing her inch forward. And he wanted nothing more than for her to keep coming. And it seemed like it wouldn't be wrong to take this stranger in his arms. So natural. Her red hair was long and curly. Her eyes were big, a rich emerald color.

It took him only a few more seconds to recognize her. But it couldn't be.

"You're the girl I keep dreaming about."

Her expression grew intense. She opened her mouth, but words did not come out.

"In my dreams, we are in love," he said.

She nodded her head ever so slightly.

And then the thought crept up in his head. He tried to push it away, but could not.

"Am I dreaming now?"

And with that, she vanished into thin air.

But he didn't wake up. He was still in the doorway. He stepped out onto the porch and looked around. Nothing out of the ordinary, just his yard and the same old big houses of Valence Street. He was a little freaked out and very intrigued. Nothing like this had ever happened to him. He went to sit down.

He awoke to a creaking sound. After a few seconds he sized up what had happened. He'd sat on the porch swing a few hours ago. He must have fallen asleep. When he'd moved, the swing, much in need of oiling, had awakened him.

In his dreams, she had been with him. And this time he remembered her vividly. She loved to dance. And dance they had, in the clubs, on the beach, in his living room. Then they had made love in perfect timing with one another. The only thing he couldn't remember was what was said, but he knew the conversation was like all else they had, a perfect rhythm.

It hurt to think of her too much, knowing he would not see her until he slept again, if he saw her again at all. Why couldn't such an angel, a perfect connection for him, exist in reality? He pushed the thoughts away.

All the houses on Valence Street were occupied except the one directly across the street, an old, dilapidated thing. He wondered if any of his neighbors had noticed him sleeping on the swing. He didn't really care, though. He'd not gotten to know any of them yet, and he didn't plan on living here much longer anyway. It seemed a waste for a single man to have such a big house.

He looked across the street when something caught his eye. It was the porch light of the unoccupied house.

And there she was, standing in the doorway. She shut the door. And the light went out.

He ran across the street. Without hesitating, he tried the handle. It wouldn't turn. He banged on the door.

"Hello! Are you in there?"

Nothing.

He banged on the door again. Then he caught someone in his peripheral vision. It was the old man next door. There was not enough light to make out the expression on the man's face, but Karl thought he could imagine it. He turned away and walked back to his house.

"Things have a way of balancing here."

Startled, he turned to see the old man. He'd come out here with a book and sat, half reading, half watching the house across the street. He'd not seen the old man walk up. Last night, after he fell asleep for the second time, this time in his bed, he'd dreamt her again, seemingly all night. At the end, she had told him something. Something he could sense was very important. But he couldn't remember what it was.

"What?" he asked the old man, who was now stepping onto the porch.

"Here on Valence Street, things balance out. I saw you last night."

Hearing the old man speak, Karl sensed a harmless quality to him. He nodded. "Did you see her?"

The old man laughed. Then he shook his head. "Not last night. But I've seen it."

"It?"

"Yes, I've lived on this block for forty years. And I'm telling you now that I've seen it happen before. Things have a way of balancing on Valence Street."

He eyed the old man a little more carefully. He had to be late seventies or early eighties. Was he senile?

"And I have seen her before, but many years ago," the old man said, breaking up Karl's evaluative thoughts.

"You mean the woman who..."

Who what? Who came from his dreams into reality?

"Who used to live there," the old man finished for him.

"Yeah. I guess."

The old man shook his head. "Terrible thing. She lived there with her husband. He was an awful man. Heard him yell at her night after night. Heard her cry all the time. Then one night, it ended."

"Did he kill her?"

The old man shrugged. "Don't know for sure. But I don't think so."

"Why? What do you mean?"

The old man smiled, kind of wickedly. "My son and I found them both in their living room. Their bodies were sitting in the evening chairs. Charred to a crisp. The rest of the room, even the fabric on the chairs they were sitting in, was completely intact, undisturbed."

The old man shook his head, then turned around. As he walked away, he said it again. "Here on Valence Street, things balance out."

They're dancing, turning circles on a large ballroom floor. She seems to anticipate his next move, and he hers. Perfection. He knows they belong together.

They dance for hours, the scene around them changing many times. On top of buildings they dance. In a field of golden wheat they dance. Near the ocean they dance. And whatever scene it is, it doesn't matter, until they dance on Valence Street.

He feels her being pulled away.

He struggles to keep her with him, but the force that pulls her is too strong. He looks at her face, at the fear in her emerald eyes.

"Hurry!" she says.

She's turns black. Her skin is gone. Her charred remains fly from his arms and into the dilapidated house.

He came to with a sense of urgency. For the first time, he remembered what she said. Then the old man's words flashed through his head.

"Here on Valence Street, things balance out."

He got out of bed. He went to the living room, where he looked out the window at the house across the street.

"Are you still in there?" he asked out loud. In his mind, he pictured the scene as the old man had described it, the two charred bodies in the living room. And then he thought of when he had first seen her outside of his dreams. He remembered what he was doing before she knocked on his door.

Again, it was the old man's words.

"Here on Valence Street, things balance out."

"No. I can't do that. It's crazy."

But he heard her voice in his head. So perfect was that voice.

"Hurry!"

He stood in front of the dilapidated house with a pack of matches in his hand. So far, he hadn't done anything that couldn't be undone. Gasoline dissipated after awhile.

Did he really want to do this? A few days ago he would have thought it crazy. Even now, he thought it crazy. But what did he have to lose?

He struck the match.

Within a minute of returning to his house, he looked outside and saw that all of the people on the block had come out to watch the house burn. Somehow, the fire department didn't arrive until after most of the house was long gone. He stayed up the rest of the night.

The next night, they danced.

"Am I really awake?" he asked.

"Am I really alive," she responded.

"Are you really free now?" he asked.

"Are you really free?" she responded.

And there was balance on Valence Street.