Jun. 1st, 2021 02:31 pm
Word_Smithing Periphery
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murielleI followed my high-beams as I turned out of the parking lot, my eyes on the road, checking my mirrors compulsively. My heart pounding so hard my whole body's thrumming. I’m trying to control my breath. Four in, four out, four in, four out, but it’s almost impossible because I can still see him and I can feel his eyes boring into me as he gets into his black Trans Am with the red racing stripes and the big red spider with the glow-in-the-dark eyes on the hood.
He’s just a kid! Maybe early twenties, but I doubt it. He’s seventeen, maybe nineteen. He’s a hundred, maybe a thousand. He’s one boy, he’s a million, and he scares the life out of me.
~~~
I stopped off at a Walmart. I had a list. I always have a list. I keep it hanging by a magnet on the fridge and every time I run out of something I write it on the list. I have been doing this for the last thirty years. It’s sufficient. I grab the list on my way out to the store. It’s efficient.
Walmart is great for the kinds of lists I make because I can get it there, everything from milk to sealant, motor oil to cream rinse, and Rice Crispies. In fact, I was looking for all of these and about twenty other things, including a note to check out cords for hanging laundry. A friend once told me that my lists were like journal entries.
“Keep them! Better yet, mail them to me, and I’ll keep them. I’ll put them in a scrapbook so when we’re old and gray in a nursing home we can pour over them and dampen our diapers.”
“There’s a website for that, you know?” I told her.
“Dampening your diapers?”
“Found lists. People send lists they find to this guy who actually published books of lists people lost.”
“Okay, cool. Send me your lists.”
“You know you’re weird?”
“Takes one to know one.”
I smile at the memory as I turn down the automotive aisle.
He was on the other side at the far end and glanced up just as I smiled. He didn’t, but his eyes bored right through me.
I grabbed the can I needed and turned around and headed over to the housewares section. At that point, all I felt was embarrassed as if I’d been caught with my bra strap hanging halfway down my arm, or a piece of toilet paper stuck to my shoe.
The cord I wanted was right where I thought it would be but there was more of it than I needed, and it cost more than I thought it would, but cord can be cut and used for something else. Next on my list were grocery items. I headed toward the coolers for dairy. As I lifted two quarts of organic into my cart I noticed him again. He was off to the right, standing by the yogurt watching me. His eyes were steely, calculating. I felt an uncomfortable flutter in my stomach. Again I turned my cart around and I headed toward the cereals.
There was nothing outstanding about him. He was dressed in jeans and a jean jacket over a t-shirt. But there something in his eyes that made my throat go dry. I couldn’t tell you the color of his eyes, or hair, or how tall he was, or how much he weighed. Average, maybe. He looked like any other guy wearing the same things. But there was something off about him.
I searched my list. Nothing that couldn’t wait for the next Walmart in the next town, and I honestly thought about just leaving the cart and running to my vehicle. Every cell in my body wanted to race out the door, but my head told me to calm down and do what I had to do. He was a kid, this was a public place. I mean, Walmart is about as public as you can get, right?
So I walked calmly through the rest of my shopping and headed to the cashier and as I went, I casually glanced around, and there he was, one cashier over, head bowed, but looking at me sideways, under his brow. My blood ran cold. The hair at the nape of my neck bristled.
He’s just a kid, I told myself. I glance down at myself for a quick wardrobe check. Could he be getting his jollies because I hadn’t buttoned all my buttons, or pulled my fly all the way up?
I straightened my back and pasted on one of those totally fake smiles we give to service people when all we want is to be somewhere else. The girl at the till looked tired, bored, like she was at the end of a double shift. I wanted to ask her if she could see him if she could ask security to detain him for five minutes to let me get away because he’d been following me around the store and I was seriously creeped. I didn’t.
I came in under budget and that made me smile. In that second I forgot about him and I actually paused at the exit to smile at the total and then I saw his reflection in the closed-door before me. He was behind me, just a few feet. His eyes seemed to blaze at me. He jerked his head to the side and started to walk toward me.
I bolted. I raced toward my van, and Mickey, hearing me running, started to bark at the top of his lungs. I didn’t stop running until I clicked the door open and started tossing my purchases in the front between the seats, then I hauled butt into the cab and was turning the ignition before I was actually sitting.
My heart thundered in my ears and from my side-view mirror as I backed out I saw him open the door of a Trans Am two cars to my left, never taking his eyes off me. My stomach lurched and I headed out of the parking lot.
Mind racing I turned right onto the highway and in my rearview mirror, I saw him turn left.
~~~
He’s not following me.
Relief surges through me erupting in a loud sob.
I open my mouth to shout with joy when I see him burn a uey.
He’s just a kid! Maybe early twenties, but I doubt it. He’s seventeen, maybe nineteen. He’s a hundred, maybe a thousand. He’s one boy, he’s a million, and he scares the life out of me.
~~~
I stopped off at a Walmart. I had a list. I always have a list. I keep it hanging by a magnet on the fridge and every time I run out of something I write it on the list. I have been doing this for the last thirty years. It’s sufficient. I grab the list on my way out to the store. It’s efficient.
Walmart is great for the kinds of lists I make because I can get it there, everything from milk to sealant, motor oil to cream rinse, and Rice Crispies. In fact, I was looking for all of these and about twenty other things, including a note to check out cords for hanging laundry. A friend once told me that my lists were like journal entries.
“Keep them! Better yet, mail them to me, and I’ll keep them. I’ll put them in a scrapbook so when we’re old and gray in a nursing home we can pour over them and dampen our diapers.”
“There’s a website for that, you know?” I told her.
“Dampening your diapers?”
“Found lists. People send lists they find to this guy who actually published books of lists people lost.”
“Okay, cool. Send me your lists.”
“You know you’re weird?”
“Takes one to know one.”
I smile at the memory as I turn down the automotive aisle.
He was on the other side at the far end and glanced up just as I smiled. He didn’t, but his eyes bored right through me.
I grabbed the can I needed and turned around and headed over to the housewares section. At that point, all I felt was embarrassed as if I’d been caught with my bra strap hanging halfway down my arm, or a piece of toilet paper stuck to my shoe.
The cord I wanted was right where I thought it would be but there was more of it than I needed, and it cost more than I thought it would, but cord can be cut and used for something else. Next on my list were grocery items. I headed toward the coolers for dairy. As I lifted two quarts of organic into my cart I noticed him again. He was off to the right, standing by the yogurt watching me. His eyes were steely, calculating. I felt an uncomfortable flutter in my stomach. Again I turned my cart around and I headed toward the cereals.
There was nothing outstanding about him. He was dressed in jeans and a jean jacket over a t-shirt. But there something in his eyes that made my throat go dry. I couldn’t tell you the color of his eyes, or hair, or how tall he was, or how much he weighed. Average, maybe. He looked like any other guy wearing the same things. But there was something off about him.
I searched my list. Nothing that couldn’t wait for the next Walmart in the next town, and I honestly thought about just leaving the cart and running to my vehicle. Every cell in my body wanted to race out the door, but my head told me to calm down and do what I had to do. He was a kid, this was a public place. I mean, Walmart is about as public as you can get, right?
So I walked calmly through the rest of my shopping and headed to the cashier and as I went, I casually glanced around, and there he was, one cashier over, head bowed, but looking at me sideways, under his brow. My blood ran cold. The hair at the nape of my neck bristled.
He’s just a kid, I told myself. I glance down at myself for a quick wardrobe check. Could he be getting his jollies because I hadn’t buttoned all my buttons, or pulled my fly all the way up?
I straightened my back and pasted on one of those totally fake smiles we give to service people when all we want is to be somewhere else. The girl at the till looked tired, bored, like she was at the end of a double shift. I wanted to ask her if she could see him if she could ask security to detain him for five minutes to let me get away because he’d been following me around the store and I was seriously creeped. I didn’t.
I came in under budget and that made me smile. In that second I forgot about him and I actually paused at the exit to smile at the total and then I saw his reflection in the closed-door before me. He was behind me, just a few feet. His eyes seemed to blaze at me. He jerked his head to the side and started to walk toward me.
I bolted. I raced toward my van, and Mickey, hearing me running, started to bark at the top of his lungs. I didn’t stop running until I clicked the door open and started tossing my purchases in the front between the seats, then I hauled butt into the cab and was turning the ignition before I was actually sitting.
My heart thundered in my ears and from my side-view mirror as I backed out I saw him open the door of a Trans Am two cars to my left, never taking his eyes off me. My stomach lurched and I headed out of the parking lot.
Mind racing I turned right onto the highway and in my rearview mirror, I saw him turn left.
~~~
He’s not following me.
Relief surges through me erupting in a loud sob.
I open my mouth to shout with joy when I see him burn a uey.
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I wasn't sure how this would work. I've been escaping by watching Youtube posts by women who live in Vans and often they talk about "sketchy" guys or situations and I wondered what that might look like. So, I wrote it out. ;-)
I'm so glad it worked for you. <3