It’s like the thudding noise the Jumanji boardgame gives off to ensure discovery. Come find me, come sit down, and discover my secrets.
“I was just heading home for the night.” I look around. “Where are you parked?”
“Just over there.” He points toward a truck on the street. “Listen,” as soon as we stop by my car, he releases my arm, but turns toward me so we stand toe to toe. My hair whips around my face, my heart gallops – Jumanji – and my phone buzzes in my hand. And yet, I don’t run away. “You’re writing that paper about me,” he starts. “I know you are. I’ve heard you talking about it, and the way you ask questions during my sessions implies you’re trying to dig into my psyche.”
“Oh… um…” Thud thud, thud thud. “I mean, I don’t have to if you don’t want me to. Sonia and I made every single client aware during their first session that I would be observing, and there was potential I would write about them for school, but if it makes you uncomfortable, I can throw it away and start again.”
“No. Actually…” His eyes flicker between mine, back and forth, like he’s searching for something. “The opposite. I think it’s really cool you’re trying to understand me. In fact, I come with an offer.”
“An offer?”
He smiles. “Come to dinner with me. Now, tonight. We can go somewhere warm, settle in, get some good food, and wait out this storm, and while we’re there, you can ask me anything you want.”
“Oh…” My eyes flare wide, and in the forefront of my mind, Luke swings his club and demands to own all of me. “I… um…” I swallow down the lump of nerves balled up in my throat. “Your offer is kind, but I have a boyfriend, Mr. Donnerson. I don’t—”
Chuckling, he gives a small shake of his head. “You’ve called me Jason every single time we’ve talked, but now I’m Mr. Donnerson? I see you trying to put up those boundaries. But…” He takes a single step back to give me space, a subconscious way of showing me I’m safe. “I do not want to date you, Allyson. My intentions are pure.” He lifts his hand and makes a Cub-Scout-type gesture. “I swear.”
“So… uh… why would you…” I clear my throat. “Why?”
“Because I want to help you with your paper. I want to let you understand me, and while I’m with you, I can visit with my Maria.” He looks around and gestures toward the tumultuous sky. “Tonight is going to be miserable, so why not spend it with a beer and pizza while we speak of the love of my life?”
“That’s just…” I frown and press a hand to my heart to ease the sting his words create. “Honestly? It’s all so sad. It’s been so long, and you’re still in love, and—”
“Talking about her makes me happy,” he interrupts. “And so, I’d like to tell you more about her. If you want more material for your paper, I’m right here. But if not, that’s okay too. I’ll let you go, and we won’t have to mention this again. Although,” he adds and lifts both hands again, “full disclosure, it’s likely I’ll follow you to where you’re going, just to make sure you get there safe. But after that, I’ll go, I promise.”
“I mean…” I look down at my phone, at the screen full of texts from my mom, but void of any from Luke. He’s busy at the gym today, working hard on getting fit for the tournament. And since he hasn’t yet texted, I guess he’s not done. “Um…” I glance up and meet Jason’s eye. “Okay. Sure. Somewhere in town. Somewhere public.”
“Witnesses?” He opens my car door, and chuckles. “Smart move. Climb in and lead me somewhere you’d like to eat. I’ll follow in my truck, that way you have your car, and I’m not taking you anywhere and scaring you. I swear, this isn’t like that. I’m not going to turn crazy tonight and try to hack you to pieces.”
“Comforting… I guess.” I force a smile and slide into my car, and just a second after I’m seated, Jason slams the door and locks out most of the raging noise from the wind.
Immediately, I grab my phone and call Mom.
“Hey, honey!” It’s noisy on her end too, howling wind, but she seems to have heavy rain too. “It’s storming there as well?”
“Yeah, crazy wind. Listen, I’m going to dinner with this guy. His name is Jason, he’s… like…” I start my car and shake my head when I realize I have no clue how to profile someone. “Something like two hundred pounds, but he’s not fat. He’s just… solid. Green eyes, sandy-blond-brownish hair. Late thirties, and he’s a client.”
“Um…” She lets her voice trail off. “Okay… You and Luke have a fight?”
“No! Jason is a client, Mom. I decided to use him as my subject for my final paper, I guess he found out, and now he wants to get dinner so we can chat some more.”
“And you’re telling me this because…?”
“Because if this was a horror movie, this is the part where the white chick is too stupid to live. It’s storming, and I ran into him where I never expected to, then he invited me out, and Luke basically can’t stand him. So really, this is the part where I die, and the audience is screaming ‘Bitch, don’t go into the basement’!”
“Such a way with words, darling. So if this is the bit where you die, why are you going?”
I push my car into gear when I remember Jason is waiting. His truck idles on the side of the street, headlights on, so I amble forward, exit the parking lot, and slowly drive toward Pinocchio’s. It fits all the criteria: it’s warm, the food is good, it’s public, and Luke and I have been often enough that the hostess will recognize me.
“Ally?” Mom repeats. “Why are you heading into the basement?”
“Because I don’t think this is like that. He’s not gonna hurt me. He’s just a regular guy, with a regular job, a regular, albeit tragic story. And I really want to hear more of it. So I’m going to dinner, I’m calling you to let you know who, what, where, and when I expect to make it home, and if something goes wrong, you can call the cops and tell them what’s up. You can also tell them he’s a client, so they can get those records and speed up the process of avenging my death.”
“So… you are dying tonight, or no? Should I move my hair appointment next week so it’s fresh and pretty for your funeral, or…?”
“You ass,” I laugh and slow at the intersection leading in to Main Street. “I’m not going to die. I’m just doing all the right things, crossing my Ts, dotting my Is so that no one can say I was being reckless.”
“I think the fact you’re going out in a storm is reckless in itself.”
“Yeah? Where are you right now?”
She snorts. “In my car. I’m heading to that Thai place for dinner.”
“Exactly.” I roll my eyes – and my car forward – and slow at the driveway that leads into the restaurant parking lot. “Like mother like daughter, huh? Except I’m not going out only for food, I’m going for work.”