someone?”
“Are you safe right now?”
“Yes. I’m in my house, watching him. He’s not going anywhere, even when I threatened to call the cops.”
“Okay, sweetie. Just stay put. I’ll get someone over there.”
“Thank you.”
“It won’t be long. Garrety is just around the corner,” Stalker says.
“What are you, psychic?”
“Omniscient, actually.”
Just then I see the patrol car. The lights aren’t even on until hepulls to the curb, and then they flash. Two heavyset men emerge, lumbering toward my condo. The stalker, to my surprise, has somehow moved down the steps and is sitting on the hood of my car. When did that happen? During a blink? I open the screen door and step outside as the two officers pass right by him.
“Ma’am? I’m Officer Garrety. This is Officer Lakeland. How can we assist you?”
I point to my car. “He followed me home from speed dating. Please don’t judge me. It’s humiliating enough. But now he won’t leave.”
“Ma’am, who won’t leave?” Officer Garrety asks.
I point again. “Him! And he should not be sitting on the hood of my car. He’ll scratch the paint.”
“How much ya been on the juice tonight?”
“Huh? None. Why?”
The chubbier of the two officers, Lakeland, pitches his thumb over his right shoulder. “There’s no one sitting on that car of yours.”
“What are you talking about?” I gesture toward the stalker, who hops off my hood. “He’s right there!” He is now sauntering, literally sauntering toward me. “There! Look! He’s coming…up…the…” Steps. Slowly. One step at a time. Then he hops up and sits on the small wall again, swinging his legs like he’s nine. “See?” I point to him. The officers don’t even look.
Garrety says, “I didn’t know women your age still had imaginary friends.”
“I haven’t had one of those since I was six.”
“Try nine,” Stalker whispers. How does he know
that
?
Lakeland laughs. “Look, lady, whatever it is you’re drinkingtonight, you might want to try something a little less strong next time, okay?”
“I’m not drinking! What is this, some sort of horrible joke?”
Officer Garrety stops chuckling. “Okay look, miss, normally for false alarms we can bring you in. But I have a sense of humor, and I’m willing to bet you’re not having a good Valentine’s Day, now are ya?”
I grind my teeth. “Oh no. It’s terrific. It’s getting better by the second.”
Stalker steps right next to Lakeland and leans in toward me. “They can’t see me. Only you can. Bet you wish I’d told you that earlier, huh?”
It’s an odd thought, I know, but I seriously wonder if I’m being Punk’d, and am about to mention it to the officers/actors when Stalker turns and walks through my screen door. And by through, I mean like Casper. I feel lightheaded. I actually think my eyes roll back in my head. I’m not sure, but everything seems fuzzy.
“It’s vodka,” Lakeland whispers to Garrety. “Women don’t do vodka well.”
“Well,” Garrety says in a loud voice, as if I’ve suddenly turned deaf, “we’ll just call this a
dry run
and forget it ever happened.”
“Think she’s going to be okay?” I hear Lakeland ask as they walk down my steps.
“Look, she probably just got her heart broken or something, you know?”
I turn and stare through my screen door. There he is, sitting on my couch like it’s his own home. I watch the officers get in their car and drive off.
Again, against my better judgment, I walk in. I am normally panicprone. Spiders. Mice. Snakes. Strangely, though, ghosts don’t seem to trigger anything. I don’t want to touch him, for fear that my arm will go straight through his, so I give a few exaggerated gestures. “Come on. Come now. Let’s go. There’s no need to make a scene. Let’s go.”
He settles back in the couch.
I feel remarkably calm, if not the slightest bit delusional. “Okay this isn’t happening. You are not happening.
“Are you safe right now?”
“Yes. I’m in my house, watching him. He’s not going anywhere, even when I threatened to call the cops.”
“Okay, sweetie. Just stay put. I’ll get someone over there.”
“Thank you.”
“It won’t be long. Garrety is just around the corner,” Stalker says.
“What are you, psychic?”
“Omniscient, actually.”
Just then I see the patrol car. The lights aren’t even on until hepulls to the curb, and then they flash. Two heavyset men emerge, lumbering toward my condo. The stalker, to my surprise, has somehow moved down the steps and is sitting on the hood of my car. When did that happen? During a blink? I open the screen door and step outside as the two officers pass right by him.
“Ma’am? I’m Officer Garrety. This is Officer Lakeland. How can we assist you?”
I point to my car. “He followed me home from speed dating. Please don’t judge me. It’s humiliating enough. But now he won’t leave.”
“Ma’am, who won’t leave?” Officer Garrety asks.
I point again. “Him! And he should not be sitting on the hood of my car. He’ll scratch the paint.”
“How much ya been on the juice tonight?”
“Huh? None. Why?”
The chubbier of the two officers, Lakeland, pitches his thumb over his right shoulder. “There’s no one sitting on that car of yours.”
“What are you talking about?” I gesture toward the stalker, who hops off my hood. “He’s right there!” He is now sauntering, literally sauntering toward me. “There! Look! He’s coming…up…the…” Steps. Slowly. One step at a time. Then he hops up and sits on the small wall again, swinging his legs like he’s nine. “See?” I point to him. The officers don’t even look.
Garrety says, “I didn’t know women your age still had imaginary friends.”
“I haven’t had one of those since I was six.”
“Try nine,” Stalker whispers. How does he know
that
?
Lakeland laughs. “Look, lady, whatever it is you’re drinkingtonight, you might want to try something a little less strong next time, okay?”
“I’m not drinking! What is this, some sort of horrible joke?”
Officer Garrety stops chuckling. “Okay look, miss, normally for false alarms we can bring you in. But I have a sense of humor, and I’m willing to bet you’re not having a good Valentine’s Day, now are ya?”
I grind my teeth. “Oh no. It’s terrific. It’s getting better by the second.”
Stalker steps right next to Lakeland and leans in toward me. “They can’t see me. Only you can. Bet you wish I’d told you that earlier, huh?”
It’s an odd thought, I know, but I seriously wonder if I’m being Punk’d, and am about to mention it to the officers/actors when Stalker turns and walks through my screen door. And by through, I mean like Casper. I feel lightheaded. I actually think my eyes roll back in my head. I’m not sure, but everything seems fuzzy.
“It’s vodka,” Lakeland whispers to Garrety. “Women don’t do vodka well.”
“Well,” Garrety says in a loud voice, as if I’ve suddenly turned deaf, “we’ll just call this a
dry run
and forget it ever happened.”
“Think she’s going to be okay?” I hear Lakeland ask as they walk down my steps.
“Look, she probably just got her heart broken or something, you know?”
I turn and stare through my screen door. There he is, sitting on my couch like it’s his own home. I watch the officers get in their car and drive off.
Again, against my better judgment, I walk in. I am normally panicprone. Spiders. Mice. Snakes. Strangely, though, ghosts don’t seem to trigger anything. I don’t want to touch him, for fear that my arm will go straight through his, so I give a few exaggerated gestures. “Come on. Come now. Let’s go. There’s no need to make a scene. Let’s go.”
He settles back in the couch.
I feel remarkably calm, if not the slightest bit delusional. “Okay this isn’t happening. You are not happening.
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