“Thanks a lot, you doofus,” I said, rolling my eyes and trying not to sound as embarrassed as I felt. Oh, but he knew. He always knew. That’s why he did it. That jerk.
Jim leaned over me to Dex and said, “You should sleep with one eye open tonight, sonny.”
Dex nodded at him and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes were devilish, enjoying himself immensely. I had the urge to smack him in the head again.
He took his arm off of me and leaned in closer. “Sorry, kiddo,” he whispered in my ear.
I glared at him, hissing, “Would it have killed you to kiss me like a normal person?”
He smiled quickly. “Maybe if it was on a dare…”
I rolled my eyes again and sat up straight in my seat. I was relieved to see that the game was resuming in a few minutes, anything to save me from the awkwardness. On a dare? Or how about if we were about to die? Were those the only two reasons he had? That thought tugged at my heart a little bit, making me feel foolish all over again. I loathed this stupid school girl crush of mine.
He was watching me. I could see that out of the corner of my eye. I wanted him to get out of my head and go back to texting Jenn or whoever the hell he was so wrapped up in minutes earlier.
The players came out on the ice and all the attention was diverted their way. I needed to get wrapped up in the game again. And I did. I finished my beer, started cheering for a fight and slowly forgot about what had happened.
I didn’t say much to Dex, either, and kept my questions directed to Jim instead. He was in the middle of explaining how even though some seats in the arena were empty (such as the ones below Dex and I) that Canucks games had sold out consecutively for many years, when Dex’s phone went off. He snatched it out of his pocket and put it up to his ear.
Jim kept on talking but I didn’t hear a word he was saying. My ears were tuned to Dex’s conversation.
“I can’t talk about this now,” he said roughly into the phone, his voice trembling slightly.
He closed his eyes to whatever the person on the other end was saying. His brow furrowed, scrunching up his forehead in a landscape of expressive lines and the grip on the phone tightened. His other hand came up to his eyes, covering them. I could almost feel his breath seize. I had never seen him like this before. It was fascinating.
Finally, he took his hand away and looked up at nothing in particular. His eyes were red, but not watery. He looked plain scared. I wish I could have heard what the person on the other line was saying to make him look that way.
“I’m sorry, I can’t,” he said to the mystery party, his voice breaking. He looked around him wildly, his eyes catching mine for a second but they didn’t “see” me. Dex could have been anywhere at that moment.
“I can’t do this now,” he cried out.
And then he got up, knocking over one of his beers and started hurrying down the stairs with the phone to his ear, shaking his head as he went. I leaned over and picked up the beer before the spillage reached my feet.
“Bad news?” Jim asked me. I jumped and looked at him, making an uncomfortable face.
“I have no idea,” I said quietly.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” he said sincerely and then turned his attention back to the game, hinting that I should too.
I tried. I really did, but now all I could think about was Dex. What was going on? Was he OK? As intriguing as it was, I also felt for him. Whatever was going on wasn’t good.
I mulled over what it could be but my inebriated mind couldn’t really come up with anything and the game’s commotion kept distracting me.
Jim tapped me on the shoulder. I looked up to see him standing. A bunch of people on his end were trying to get out and needed me to stand up so that they could pass. I guessed even though there were 15 minutes left in the game, some people liked to beat the rush and leave early.
I flashed them a quick smile, trying not to look annoyed, and rose out of my seat to let them by. They blocked my view of the game momentarily and at what sounded like a very exciting moment.
As soon as they had passed I sat back down just in time to see the Canucks’ goalie, Roberto Luongo, make a great save with his pad. The crowd chanted “Luuuuuuuu,” as they always did when he made a good play (or any play) and I joined along too.
And then I noticed there was a woman sitting in front of me in the previously empty seat. She had probably sat down while I was letting the other people pass. I didn’t know why anyone would catch the last half of the last period but people were fanatical here.
I looked back at the game but something strange brought my attention back to the person. I couldn’t see her properly because a rail was between us and she seemed as short as I, but a feverish tickle at the back of my neck was letting me know something here was wrong. I knew not to ignore that feeling.
My breath slowed as my eyes locked on the back of her head. The hair was old–fashioned, like something Betty Grable would have worn with short, perfectly coiled curls. It was the shade of the palest smokey lavender. I had seen that hair color on someone before.
I wanted to lean forward to get a better look at what she was wearing but I already knew what I was going to see. The puffed taffeta collar at her neck was enough of a hint. As were the glimpses of pom pom appliqués through the rail.
I froze in my seat. My thoughts slowed. I only had one.
She was here.
The lady shifted, subtly, like she was receiving some incoming message from me, and turned around at an excruciatingly slow pace. She really was in slow motion – the rest of the world around me continued on at its regular go.
And then her eyes were peering up at me through the space in the railing. Blank pools of darkness rimmed by a shoddy makeup job. Below them her mouth was spread wide in a disturbing grin, her face cracked by the corners of her shellacked lips. It was a mask of pure and utter derangement and it was looking at me. Looking into me.
Every inch of my body was telling me to run; my nerves were sizzling at their endings from the build–up of dread. I wanted to look at Jim to see if he could see what I saw, to make me feel safe, to make me feel sane, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything but watch.
Time seemed to lose all meaning and I wasn’t sure if it was seconds or minutes that passed while I was under her spell, while we just stared at each other like two equally immovable corpses.
Then…
They look at you the way they looked at me.