The Ball Pit

The man decided a ball pit was the only place to go.

He hadn’t been in one since he was a child. Every Saturday, his father would get to keep him for the weekend as part of the custody agreement. Never having been an imaginative man, his father dispensed with trying to plan engaging activities that he could do with his only son. Instead, the two of them would show up to KidzLand as soon as they opened at eleven and they would stay until closing. KidzLand offered a variety of play areas including a miniature ferris wheel, several large and twisty slides, and the biggest ball pit in upper Minnesota.

Perhaps it was the fond childhood memory that led him back to KidzLand when he noticed the woman following him out of the laundromat. Never having experienced a feeling of being threatened, he reverted back to when he last felt comforted and safe. The strongest memory was that of the ball pit. While his father was eating stiff pizza and rereading copies of Sports Illustrated in the KidzLand cafeteria, he would dive into the ball pit and push his way to the middle. Once there, he would fall forward and see if he could dig down to the bottom of the pit. Such a venture should have terrified him. The claustrophobia. The feeling of being buried alive by balls. Still, he never felt anything but secure. As soon as he felt the hard surface of the floor underneath him, he would carve out an air pocket and go to sleep. For hours, he would drift in and out of the most peaceful slumber he’d ever experienced before or since. He’d stay that way through lunchtime while his father flirted with the single mothers every Saturday morning and afternoon. When it was time to go, his father would walk over to the ball pit, stick his head in it, and call out the way a whale would to summon its young.

“Jeremiahhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

His father’s voice would reverberate throughout the plastic reds and greens. He’d pop out and swim over to the open arms and mild scent of mozzarella. Then, they’d go back to his father’s apartment on the dodgy side of town and watch reruns of Cheers.

All those memories felt as though they’d been produced by an inexperienced filmmaker. His father was in a convalescent home now after two strokes. He didn’t expect to have a father facing death at such a young age, but certainty was for the lucky and lonely. Upon discovering a woman following him out of the laundromat, he felt a kind of excitement at first. Nobody ever tried to get close to him. He didn’t have any friends. His mother had passed away shortly before he went away for college, which left only his father as immediate family. Life was a series of errands and low expectations. The woman following him looked to be around his age. She had no laundry basket with her, which was the first tell that something might be off. Jeremiah watched enough spy movies to know how to check if someone was following you. Holding his basket with half a week’s newly folded clothes in it, he crossed the street several times on his way back home. Each time he did, the woman crossed as well. He was being tailed. But why? What on earth could she want? Perhaps she had him mistaken for somebody else? Someone important?

He realized he couldn’t go home. Then, she’d know where he lived, and if her intentions were nefarious, he could potentially be murdered. Women were not known for murdering complete strangers, but the odds of it happening were not zero. Jeremiah wasn’t sure where he could go until he remembered that it was Saturday, and he was only three blocks away from KidzLand. Within an instant, he could smell the mozzarella and the sterilization spray they used on all the plastic balls. He crossed the street and started walking in the direction of the ball pit. The woman behind him did the same.

KidzLand had seen better days. The ferris wheel had been out of order for the better part of a decade, and three of the slides had been roped off due to several ongoing lawsuits. Luckily for Jeremiah, the ball pit was still there. He paid the general admission fee, and didn’t notice when the girl selling him the ticket rolled her eyes a bit at the thought of a grown man entering the family entertainment center all by himself. Jeremiah wondered whether the woman would follow him inside. That would make it all the more obvious that she was tracking him. He glanced back as he walked into the large glass room where the ball pit was located, and noticed her at the ticket counter pulling out her purse. That settled it. She was coming after him. He set his laundry basket down, took off his shoes, and dove headfirst into the pit.

Right away, he had to adjust the reality against his childhood remembrance. The ball pit was not as deep as it had seemed when he was younger. Still, it was deep enough to cover himself with a layer or two of balls. He made sure he went all the way down until he felt the floor. Then, he made his air pocket and waited. A minute went by, and he questioned whether or not he should have brought his laundry basket in with him. It felt wrong to leave it behind. There didn’t seem to be anyone else in the ball pit with him. It used to be popular with kids, but maybe they weren’t interested in sinking down anymore into a quicksand of color.

The minutes turned into an hour. Then another. Jeremiah felt safe, but not safe enough to pop his head out and chance seeing his stalker lying in wait. He decided to stay where he was until he was sure she was gone. It occurred to him that if he could hide in the ball pit until KidzLand closed, then he would be assured that the woman was gone. She wouldn’t know that the employees never checked the ball pit, and that they wouldn’t think a grown man would be hiding in there. She was probably waiting in the cafeteria for him to reveal himself. When the time came to close, the girl at the ticket counter would ask her to leave, and when the woman pointed out that someone must still be there, because there was a laundry basket left behind, the girl would assure her that people leave things behind all the time, and that the man had probably snuck out without anybody noticing. She’d politely usher her out the front door, and the woman would give up since no man was worth this much trouble.

Jeremiah made himself comfortable. He wished that he had a book with him. Checking his phone, he saw that he couldn’t get service in his air pocket. That meant he could organize his podcast list or open his notes app and write down who he would leave his things to if a maniac killed him in the middle of KidzLand, but that was about it. It was difficult to hear what was going on in the rest of the building. After what seemed like eons, the lights began to go out. The darkness of his pocket became even darker. He felt a few extra balls fall down around his shoulders as his body loosened up. His feet were a bit numb, but not in an unpleasant way. He yawned, and then asked himself how he could yawn when he was in the midst of such a tense situation.

When he was sure the place must be closed, he stayed where he was. There might be an alarm that he would not want to set off. The police would come, and he would have to explain about the woman following him, and he might sound crazy. People always sound crazy when they’re telling the police anything. It’s why he never bothered complaining no matter what happened to him. It only led people to feel bad for you and then write you off as unfortunate. Jeremiah had been written off enough times in his life. He could stay right in his pocket, and in the morning, when the girl opened the place up again, he’d quietly rise from the pit and make his way home.

The rustling didn’t startle him at first. It didn’t seem like someone was inside the ball pit with him. It was more like a breeze had just run across the surface and stirred a few of the orbs. Then, there was an adjustment near him. Then another. Jeremiah froze. Could the woman have made her way into the pit after all? Could she have hidden out in the restroom in order to terminate him in peace once everyone else had left? What could he do? Nothing. He would simply stay in this spot and wait for her to do the inexplicable. Terror is remarkably close to relief on the scale of emotions, and he felt himself almost fade into sleep just as his heart was about to burst out of his chest.

As the adjustments grew closer and closer, he felt himself breathing the way he would if he were meditating. Jeremiah had never tried meditating before, but he knew it involved breathing slowly and that it helps in tense situations. He was taking a breath in, when a hand reached into his pocket and offered itself to him. It was not trying to grab or hit. It was simply extended. It was a woman’s hand. It had to be her. Jeremiah didn’t make a sound. He looked at the hand. Its elegant thumb. Its pristine ring finger. He looked at his own hand. It had a scar where his lifeline should be. One he’d gotten on a Saturday long ago.

Jeremiah exhaled.

Only then, did he take her hand.