The Domino Effect

The Mysteriously Handsome Samuel Gerard

"So, Sam," Katie inquired, sitting down on a park bench, "why were you at a post office at 11:30 pm wearing nothing but black?"

The five of them had settled down on a couple of metallic benches in the centre of the park beside an empty children's playground. The playground had certainly seen better days. One of the chains attached to the swing was lying limp on the ground like a wounded soldier on a bloody battlefield. The paint that was supposed to coat the see-saw had been picked off and transformed into a disheartened pile of confetti, one of the rungs on the slide had vanished like Houdini leaving an empty nothingness behind. The entire playground was clothed in a rainbow of spray-painted graffiti containing words which were definitely not suitable for a children's playground.

Around the playground sat an array of trees, each a little worse off than the one beside it. Dying branches and leaves formed a carpet while their living relatives established the framework for an unbuilt canopy. Branches jutted out at bizarre angles to create a home that was simultaneously a child's dream but a safety coordinators nightmare.

Sam slowly looked around, his eyes were met by four other pairs. A goofy grin rolled onto his face, replacing the paranoid line which had been resting below his nose for the entire car ride. The smile enhanced his face, creating a friendly persona. The overhead streetlight revealed the freckles that were sprinkled over his nose and cheeks.

"My goodness," he laughed, the previous tension had almost vanished from his voice, in its place stood a deep masculine voice with the slightest hint of a British accent, "I can see what that must have looked like. Boy, I must look more guilty than a child with his hand in a cookie jar. A twenty-two-year-old coming out of a closed store wearing nothing but black in the middle of the night. Doesn't get more sus than that. Don't worry, nothing illegal was going on at all if that's what you are worried about."

"Really?" Annabelle challenged, one eyebrow perched almost halfway up her forehead.

"Yes, of course. Here, let me explain.  My aunt owns that post office on Main Street. She's there almost every day. I was only there because she left a couple of bits and pieces at the office today when she left in a hurry and Aunt Lisa asked me to grab them for her. Here, I've got the keys, it's the truth," Sam ensured his audience while holding up a beat up key ring.

The once silver key ring, which was covered with scratches and dents, held about six keys in equally bad condition. A blue 'L' dangled from the ring, twinkling ever so slightly from the starlight overhead.

"Why were you dressed in black then?" Lucy questioned the suspiciously guilty-looking man, raising an eyebrow.

"I didn't walk to the post office. I actually just came here from a game of laser tag with a couple of my university buds. Then Brad dropped me off at the post office afterwards. This is my laser tag attire. Claudette offered me a ride home because I didn't particularly feel like being washed away by that horrendous storm."

"If that's true, why were you so terrified when we picked you up," accused Katie, not completely buying Sam's story."

"Would you be calm if you were meeting a complete stranger in the middle of the night?" Sam countered, "I hadn't met Lucy before, I just knew that she knew Claudette, but she could have been anyone. She could have been a mugger. A thief. But I needed a lift home. The last thing I wanted was a twenty-minute walk home at midnight through a storm."

"That's true, I guess, but why then were you so opposed to rendezvousing at a fast-food outlet. If you were so scared of meeting up with four, well, three strangers, wouldn't you prefer Hungry Jacks to a secluded park with only a mutilated playground to hear your screams?" Annabelle inquired. Her lawyer face was prominent in the light of the street lamp. Her calculating eyes were working at light speed, analysing Sam's story for cracks and ensuring that every element checked out.

Sam paused for almost a minute before answering, Lucy looked at her friends, a puzzled expression growing on her face. She was about to rephrase Annabelle's question when Sam slowly opened his mouth.

"I have crippling social anxiety. I love parks at night time because they are quiet, one can enjoy the solitude on their own. I don't like eating out, all I can think about is other people judging me and invading my privacy. My chest becomes all tight and I can't breathe. I feel like I'm drowning on dry land. It's been bad enough meeting three new individuals all at once, I didn't think that I could go to Hungry Jacks as well," Sam explained, looking down at his feet while Claudette comfortingly stroked his arm.

"Oh," was the only sound Annabelle's lips could form, a light blush covered her cheeks as her eyes slowly stopped calculating. It is true when they say never judge a book by its cover. It could save you a lot of embarrassment. But on the other hand, Annabelle's gut was usually very good at analysing people and situations. 'Must just be an off day,' she thought to herself.

Suddenly, the heavens opened up and rain poured from every cloud of the troposphere. The girls squealed before running towards the safety of the Mazda.

"Come on Sam," yelled Claudette over the sound of the flood.

"I don't want to put you out," he countered, "I'll just walk home, I don't live too far away."

"Nonsense!" Lucy exclaimed. "Not in this weather. Hop in, I'll drop you home."

Reluctantly, Sam climbed into the back seat, clicking his seatbelt. Lucy pulled out of her spot and navigated the suburban streets through the blinding gale. Sam directed her towards a modest, single-storied house. The front veranda held a worn-down porch swing. Its once vibrant cushions had faded after decades of love and use until they only portrayed beaten down images of their former glory. A carefully tended garden grew around the porch, advertising the beauty of spring. No matter where you looked in the lush, green garden, the graceful blooms had an almost magical ability to make you smile.

Sam slid out of the car and ran to the comforting arms of the front veranda with his backpack tucked securely under his left arm. His other hand fiddled in his pocket for the dented key ring, the blue 'L' dangling from the ring. Before Sam found the right key, Lucy and her blue Mazda had vanished into the netherworld of the storm.

By the time Lucy turned into her own driveway the girls were exhausted and each looked significantly worse for wear. Claudette's blonde curls clung to her exposed neck and decorated her vans with an array of droplets. Beside her Annabelle yawned, stretching towards the heavens, her seams and labels still sticking out of her soaked clothes. Lucy rubbed her eyes sleepily as she locked up the car, only causing further damage to the catastrophic case of her rain-washed, panda-like mascara. Katie's moustache had grown into a smudged goatee that somehow looked worse than the initial moustache.

Silently, the girls climbed the front steps and Lucy unlocked the door. Everyone just wanted a good night sleep and to dream away the peculiar, yet eventful, evening. As they crept into the house, Mrs Sheen met them in the foyer.

"Good, you're home," she smiled at the quartet, "How was the pizza?"