Here is the story I wrote based on the photographs. Enjoy! A week from now, we will be living through our last day before the school year. It is sad to say goodbye to these long summer days with all the unstructured time, but we would also be sad if we had nothing to do in our lives! So let's try to enjoy whatever life brings us -- work and play!
The Following
I knew they were following me. They were in a white car and I couldn’t see their faces. Not clearly, because there was a bit of rain on the windshield, just enough to make it hard to see. They didn’t even try to hide or to seem like they were on a road trip or a Sunday drive. They parked right behind me! I didn’t know whether to get out of the car or not. I just sat there gripping the steering wheel, wondering what the hell to do. Part of me wanted to confront them. Just throw open the door and walk over and say, “what the HELL are you doing?”
“I can SEE you. Don’t think I don’t KNOW what you’re doing.”
But I was scared, too, you know? They were so obvious about it. It was clear to me that they weren’t afraid of being discovered. Not at all. They felt like they had a right to stalk me. And when people think they have rights, they’re dangerous.
They didn’t get out of their car. They didn’t saunter over and lean up on the hood of my car and do that circle gesture that means “roll down your window”. While I sat there, gripping the wheel, they just sat there, too. Probably talking about how the numbers on my back licence plate are peeling away or how few people were in the park, scared away by a few rain drops.
They didn’t drive away either. I had pulled up and parked and ten seconds later, there they were, pulling in and parking, too. The NERVE. It made me so angry that they didn’t even feel like they had to disguise themselves or pretend that they were in the neighbourhood to visit a sick friend.
I felt the bile rising in my throat and I looked at my hands on the steering wheel and they were shaking. My face was wet with perspiration. I wanted to cry. I did. But I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
I took the keys out of the ignition and grabbed my backpack. Water, ID, a book, sunglasses, in the case of a change in the weather. Not likely. I put the keyring around my finger. I had read in some trashy mystery novel or seen in some trashy police procedural tv show, that you could defend yourself with your keys. You put the keyring around your finger and made sure all the keys were sticking out and when they grabbed you, you would punch them hard in the face and the keys would gouge their eyes out. I couldn’t imagine myself doing that, but I would have to. I’d had some fights. When I was a kid, of course, not recently. My best friend and I had had a fight in the street. Kicking and punching and I finished it off by hitting her with a rock. I wasn’t carrying the rock. It wasn’t a plan. The rock was just there.
I couldn’t get control of my breath. I was panting and I wasn’t even going anywhere yet. I got out of the car and looked around, very casual, like I was just going for a walk in the rain in the park. Nothing strange about that, right? Lots of people say that in their personal profiles on line. They like to walk in the rain. It’s supposed to be romantic. It never mentions an umbrella. An umbrella isn’t romantic, I guess.
I took the path through the trees. It wasn’t raining hard, but the ground under the trees was dry anyway, because the trees protected the path. The wind and the raindrops made little sounds in the branches, or maybe it was animals. Not big threatening animals, of course, although I saw a bobcat once. They aren’t as big as you would think. But it’s a city park. They would kill any large animal if it tried to live there.
I didn’t want to look behind me, but I knew that they were following. I heard their voices talking and one of them laughed. LAUGHED? Like it was nothing. Following me to the park and scaring me out of my wits. But I still had my wits because I had my backpack and my keys sticking out between my fingers. They wouldn’t get me without a fight.
My lips were so dry, but I didn’t want to stop to have a sip of water. I didn’t want them to catch up to me. I had no idea what they would do, but even with my keys I was vulnerable. There were two of them and only one of me. I looked around to see if there was somewhere I could stop. Somewhere safe, just so I could have a goddam sip of water. Was that too much to ask? Just a small sip of water, when my lips were so dry? It wasn’t fair that I couldn’t even have that. But then, life’s not fair, is it? That’s what they say. Young people die of horrible diseases and ugly old people live on and on. Some of them don’t even know where they are. Is that any life for someone to have? I’m not judging, just asking.
The path through the trees turned into a stone walkway. The stone walkway was cracked all over. Step on a crack – break your mother’s back. But my mother died, so it doesn’t matter anymore whether her back is broken or not. She didn’t die of a broken back, of course. I don’t think you die of that, do you? Maybe she died of a broken heart.
I didn’t need to worry about stepping on cracks anyway, because the path was broken into large slabs and there was even a little stone bridge over a non-existent creek. Maybe when it isn’t a drought, the creek has water flowing through it, but not this year. The entire earth is burning up, it seems. That’s thanks to us, of course. We’re a scourge. You know who I mean. You know it’s true.
I stepped onto the little bridge and acted like I was looking around the park, just taking a nice scan of the view. I took a deep breath. What I wanted was to open my backpack and get my water, but I didn’t do that. I wanted to look as if I was enjoying the day, enjoying being on the little bridge and the view from the bridge. Not that the little bridge gave you a better view than the stone path. It wasn’t even a foot high. But that was my act. I even forced myself to smile, as if I felt free and relaxed.
I didn’t see them. I admit that scared me considerably. I know they were there. Where were they? Were they on to me? Were they hiding in the trees? I listened with every fibre of my body. Even my hair was listening. I only heard the little sounds in the branches, but I realized that those sounds were probably not small animals. It was them. They had climbed into the trees, I suppose. They could do that. They could do anything.
I decided then, to open my backpack and take out my water and drink it. Drink it all down. Feel the cool water going down my throat. I was at the high point of the bridge. I could see most of the park. The trees, the sculptures, some people far away in the playground with their children. It was probably their children. You wouldn’t take a strange child to the park. That would not be acceptable behavior, would it?
I took out the water and unscrewed the cap. I was about to drink, but the water smelled strange. Like disinfectant. Not like fresh water from a creek flowing through the park when there was no drought. I poured the water in the stream bed, but it didn’t flow. It made the rocks shiny but that wouldn’t last. I know that. The water will evaporate into the air. Perhaps later, when the drought is over, it will fall as rain.
I heard a distant laugh. Them. Ahead of me there was a cave. The entrance to the cave was a reversed triangle. Don’t ask me to describe it in more detail. Close your eyes and picture a reverse triangle. Made of stone. That is what I saw.
I knew I was doomed. I had poured out my water. It had probably been fine. It was probably my imagination that it smelled wrong. I have been told I have a vivid imagination. It wasn’t said as a compliment.
I stepped into the cave. It was dark in the cave and I couldn’t hear the laughter or the sound of the wind or the raindrops in the branches. I sat down on the floor in the cave. It was only then I realized that I was still gripping my keys. I relaxed my grip, but my fingers remained in the clenched shape and the imprint of the keys remained on my skin. I touched my face and it was hot. It felt like I might have a fever.
I decided I would stay in the cave. It was cool there and there was only one entrance and I could watch it. Perhaps I could even see a shadow before they tried to come in. I had my backpack. I could throw it at them. I could scream. My scream would echo in the cave. I took a deep breath. I was ready to stay as long as I needed to. They wouldn’t want to stay in the trees for very long. They wouldn’t stay in the park after dark. I was very thirsty. I didn’t feel well at all.
I put my face against the cool rock in the cave and that made me feel better. Rock is very old. Perhaps the oldest thing on earth. I wondered where this rock had come from and how it had formed and I asked myself, “why is rock always so cool?” I was thinking about that and thinking about how rock forms in sedimentary layers. It must be peaceful to build up like that over eons of time.
I heard a small noise. Not inside the cave. Outside. It couldn’t be them. They would make a loud noise. I listened again with every cell in my body. Every part of me was listening and still, even my heart. A small shadow flickered across the cave wall. I looked up. There was a small hole opening to the sky. I focused on the hole. My life depended on that hole opening to the sky. I almost felt my spirit leaving my body, leaving the cave through the hole. Like a small tendril of smoke.
Then something filled the hole. It was a face.
