Missing Out

Today would be a turning point. She promised herself to stick to the drudge work of completing necessary errands. Still, Missy broke her lovely ceramic dancing girl as she rushed around her apartment. Always rushing. Always late. Head in the stars her mother used to say. No, she’d rejoin, not the stars but in my books, mom, with my friends like the great detective Holmes and Miss Marple. Stories transported her from the misty moors to quaint English villages, meeting the least suspected villains and understanding their sensitivities.

Grabbing the black handbag she never left behind, she ran out to the street. Lifting her head from yet another intruding daydream, she saw the bus she needed to catch zoom past her. This was nothing new. Undaunted, she gaily put her small feet into gear. Which errand to do first? Not the grocery shopping as she’d have to carry the bags around all day. The jeweler’s with her watch? Yes, just so.

She caught the cross town bus only because it hit a stop light enabling her to catch up with it. After the jeweler and already distracted from her errand list, she thought she’d take the city rail to inspect an antique display of homicide weapons at the museum. What’s a day off from work for anyway? She boarded the wrong platform and went miles in the opposite direction before she realized it. She’d never make it to the museum before it closed unless she got herself turned around. Deboarding, she tried to make sense of the rail map without success. There was no one to ask, so  in the sense of adventure, she descended the steps to the street below to have a look round. Maybe she’d find someone to ask.

It began to rain. With no umbrella and her hair frizzing around her head, she began to feel the usual pressure of rushing through her life and any real thing passing her by. Holding her head down to avoid rain hitting her eyes, she collided into a passerby.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Excuse me.”

A laughing voice said, “No problem. Totally my fault.” 

“I’m afraid I’m running late and am a little lost.”

“I’m late, too. But not lost. You really shouldn’t be out here by yourself. Not the best of neighborhoods.”

“Really? Do you know about the rail? When is the next train back to the shopping district?”

She felt slightly embarrassed under his gaze as he intently watched her hand brush wet hair from her face.

With that, the roar of the train in question passed overhead.

“I’m afraid you missed it. Look, we’re getting wet. Would you like to have a coffee with me while you wait for the next train?”

Missy took her first good look at the man. A little older than she but pleasant looking. He had nice eyes. A dusky blue. A bit mysterious. But that was probably her books talking to her.

“I guess I can trust you in the daylight. Sure.”

He took her hand and jumped her through a few rain puddles, laughing as he went. His hand felt warm and comfortable in hers.

Now they both were laughing as the coffee shop was just closing.

“Seems I’m always late.”

The man breathed close to her and mirrored her posture, his cologne as fresh as the rain, “Well, better late than never.” Still holding her hand, he said, “My name is Jim.”

“I’m Missy. Can you get me out of this neighborhood?”

“At your service, my queen.” He performed an exaggerated bow that made her laugh.

They boarded an oncoming bus and traveled aimlessly, talking like old friends, enjoying the new sunshine as it broke through the windows. This was all very romantic, storybook-like. She just let it happen, to enjoy it for the first time.

They ambled through the city, grabbed a quick lunch from a street cart, and sat in the grass at the park, talking like old friends.

“It’s odd, isn’t it, Missy? Meeting the way we did.”

Missy couldn’t respond, too afraid to misspeak.

“We seem so alike. Getting along so well. You’re such a pretty girl. Much too good for me, and yet…maybe we were made for each other.”

Missy tried a humorous response to hide her real feelings, “But you’ll have to chain yourself to me, I’m either late or lost.”

“I don’t want to lose track of you, Missy. Will you give me your phone number?”

“We just met. I’d rather you give me your number. A woman alone, you know, must be careful.”

His expression changed. He looked away from her and back again. “I’m not a bad guy.”

Afraid she’d put him off, she spoke too quickly, “Oh, I know you are. I’m just a bit…”

“Scared? Well, don’t be. I’d give you a number, but I’m new in town. For an interview for a job. And I don’t even know if they’ll like me. In the mess of traveling, I lost my phone. I don’t have a place to live yet. That’s why I was in the cheap part of town, trying to find a reasonably priced place to rent. So, I don’t have a way for you to reach me.”

Missy’s brow wrinkled, but she did not respond, beginning to not trust him. A likely story. But if she were honest with herself, she’d been in that position before.

“So what do we do, Missy? Part by saying ‘I’ll see you around’ and we never see each other again?”

“No…”

“Then how do we handle this?”

“Well, where do you work? I can call you there.”

“I’m here on an interview, remember. Hiring is a long process…weeks.”

“I’ve got it. Run an ad in the dailies when you either get a cell phone or a job or know your landlady’s number. Sign it, Rain, and I’ll call you.”

“Okay. That should work. I hope nothing fails. I really don’t want to lose you after just finding you.”

Her heartbeat thudded in her ears as they parted after a clumsy handshake. She hesitated as she turned away. Which way to proceed? She didn’t know him well enough yet. Should she begin in a different direction, try to conduct a ruse to mislead him if he tried to follow? That was a risk that could get her all turned around. When she looked over her shoulder he was gone. What a relief. She could go straight home.

***

The next day she jumped from her bed, fresh and well-rested after an unusual night’s deep sleep.

Then an annoying buzzer startled her.

It was her landlady. “Oh, Mrs. Washburn. What’s up so early?”

“Hi, Missy. Sorry to bother you, but I’m worried. I saw a strange man outside, looking up at your window.”

Missy’s heart sank. So he had followed her after all.

“When was this?”

“A few minutes ago. I came up as soon as I could get away from the new renters in 1A.”

Missy ran to her window, but the sidewalk only revealed the normal foot traffic. Nothing seemed out of place.

Her voice didn’t sound like her own, “What did he look like?”

“Oh, average. But something didn’t hit me right about him.”

“That’s no help, Mrs. Washburn.”

“Sorry. I didn’t take a long look. Are you going out today? A young girl like you, locked up here with books!”

“I’m going to work, Mrs. Washburn, and thanks.”

Missy thought of this all day from the time she arrived late to work until four o’clock when she took the train home. At the last minute, she remembered a stop she wanted to make. Getting off at the shopping district, she went to the jeweler’s to pick up her watch.

“How can I help you?”

“I’m Missy Sarrow. You have my watch. Is it ready?”

“Missy Sarrow. Yes, I see in my book, but you set it up for delivery.”

“I did? Oh, so silly of me. Scatterbrained, I guess.”

“Um, our man attempted delivery this morning but couldn’t make contact.”

“What? Oh, my.” She fought back her impulse to ramble on, telling this man all about her relief to hear the man at her building was not Jim. He had not followed her. Fixated on her inner thoughts, she turned to leave the store.

“Miss! Your watch!”

***

She bought that day’s paper on a whim that he posted a message to her. No ad. Well, it was too soon to know. Either way, her mind created fantasies about the two of them.

There was something about him. He seemed to genuinely enjoy her company. And they’d had so much fun. That must count for something. But she didn’t really know him. They didn’t share common friends to vouch for him.

That evening, “Mary, can you talk?”

“Sure, Missy. What’s up?”

“I met this guy.”

“Yay! Tell me all about it!”

Missy didn’t leave a detail out, even her ups and downs, fears and misgivings.

“Gee, Missy. Sounds like you two hit it off. But all the same, be careful.”

“What do you mean, Mary? I need advice.”

“Well, you know. Meet in public places. Find out who his friends are. Where he came from. That kind of thing.”

“I’ll try. He’s new in town. I can’t verify a thing about him yet.”

“Just be careful, honey.”

***

Up and down, conflicted, her moods rose and fell. Each day she checked the paper. No ad.

The fourth day while riding the train to work, she thought she saw a familiar head seated toward the front of the car. Her head bobbed left and right, trying to get a clear view between the crowd of work-goers. It seemed now the head was gone. He could only have left the car from the front or she would have seen him as he approached the middle doors. No one leaves their seat if they are lucky enough to find one. Why move to a forward car?

Maybe it wasn’t him, after all.

The fifth day came and no ad. She’d begun to tell herself it was all so stupid. Chance romantic meetings are in movies and books, not in real life.

And then things changed.

About three blocks from home walking from the bus, she caught a glimpse of a coat and a body posture she ingrained in her head. The coat was farther up the block. What was he doing in her neighborhood? He must know where she lives after all! So he was a stalker. It had been him on the train, too. She was sure now.

Frightened, but adrenaline-fueled, she quickened her pace. She didn’t have to worry she’d be seen for the man never turned around. He disappeared at the corner. To be safe, she slowed as she approached the turn and peeked around the building.

The street was empty.

She couldn’t take much more of this suspense. He is there. He isn’t. What was wrong with her? This was becoming an obsession. Then again, maybe he knew she was following him and ducked behind a building just to grab her as she pursued him. What should she do?

Her eyes darted left and right. She saw her gloved hand grasping the brick building. Be careful. Be careful. If he was there and lying in wait… She decided to outwit him and face him head on another day, for surely now it was evident they would meet again. She backed away and ran as fast as she could, all the way home.

***

Another week went by. She still checked the ads and was coming down from her suspicion of him. She hadn’t seen a glimpse of him, so she must have been mistaken about the sightings. Her friend, Mary, didn’t know about all of this nonsense, she’d think Missy was unhinged and Missy wanted to hide her insecurity.

Life started to settle in to it’s usual boring routine. She stopped checking the paper every day and continued to get in trouble at work for being late so often. To get more control of her life, she decided to move closer to work. Big decision, but all the details of moving kept her preoccupied for weeks until the move was complete. Her tardiness at work decreased dramatically.

Jim was nearly out of her mind completely.

***

“Mrs. Washburn. Thanks for holding those items I accidentally left behind.”

“You didn’t have to come all the way back here. I told you I’d mail them.”

“Oh, I didn’t want you to have to bother. It’s okay. It’s kind of fun to be at the old place again anyhow. Did you get a renter for my apartment?”

“Yes, very soon after you left.”

“Glad to hear that. If I’m ever in the neighborhood, I’ll be sure to stop by to see you.”

As she left, she looked up to the window that was once hers and thought she saw a figure behind the shade. A cold chill crept up her neck.

***

At work a week later her phone rang.

“Missy! Missy! It’s me. I know I’m not supposed to call you at work. But have you seen today’s paper?”

Missy’s heart leapt. “No, Mary. I’ll check it out. Got to go for now.”

With trembling hands, Missy retrieved the boss’ newspaper from his desk.

A booming voice interrupted Missy’s focus. “Missy! Have you seen the Williams’ contract?”

The paper flew from her hands to the floor. “Sorry, Mr. Bostick. Sorry. I’ll get it right now.”

Damn. When could she get away to check on this? After recovering the contract for her boss she left her work area for the elevator. She rode down to the lobby and out the door to the newspaper kiosk on the street.

She gulped and read, “To Miss Miss. 843-6299. Rain.”

Excited. Mixed feelings. When could she make the call? Should she make the call? It’s been weeks. What had taken him so long? She didn’t want to sound eager if he didn’t feel the same way. But weren’t they destined to reconnect? She told herself common sense can really be a buzz-kill, and blind decision-making could lead to a real kill.

She risked it all and telephoned.

They met in the middle of Macy’s at the height of the Christmas shopping season. Bright colored lights and decorations blunted any doubts as the two young lovers reunited, lost in their own world. He swept her away, just as at the first time.

“What took you so long to make that ad?”

“I’ve run the ad for weeks, off and on. I was getting depressed and about to quit.”

“But, I’ve checked every day.”

His eyes pierced hers as he caught her in a lie, “Then why didn’t you call?”

“No. You’re right. I stopped checking every day. I got defeated, too, waiting so long.”

They continued to meet in public places and got to know each other better. Jim took her to his office where she met his co-workers who seemed to like him. It turned out he had been honest with her about getting a new job.

When she felt secure enough, she asked him where he was living.

“Oh, my gosh, Jim. Apartment 2A? Do you realize I lived there when we first met?”

“Are you kidding me? That’s just too surreal!”

“The exact place! Mrs. Washburn is a doll. How do you like her?”

“Very well as it turns out.”

So she went with Jim to his place. A knock on Mrs. Washburn’s door revealed no one to be home. Darn. She wanted so much to see her again, to ask her how she likes Jim, to have someone in common with Jim.

“I’d love to make dinner for you. Pasta, if you’d like.”

She’d never been in an apartment alone with a man. Despite an intense feeling of unease, she heard herself say she’d like that.

“I used to cook very special dishes for my mother. She is no longer able to consume me…I mean, the meals.”

The apartment looked lonely and unfamiliar without her books lining the walls and in stacks on the floor. Here, where she’d spent precious hours with her detective friends and villains. Flashes of ghastly scenes crossed her vision, and mother is no longer consuming echoed in her brain.

She saw her handbag open.

He didn’t see the knife slip easily into his back.

“A woman alone has to be careful, Jim.”