10.20.2013: 543

For a moment all I could do was stammer. That image of the dumpster flashed through my mind, stilling my tongue and zinging into my heart like a pacemaker set on too high of a speed.

“You know, Mom, I’ve actually got to go. Someone’s here.”

“Who?” She asked immediately, her voice tinting with suspicion.

“Mary,” I said, half-truthfully. “I’ll talk to you later this week.”

“Who’s Mary?” I heard, but my thumb saved me as it clicked end call before I was obligated to answer. The fridge was practically empty, typical as it belonged to a young working guy who ate out every night and couldn’t cook anything besides baked beans and tomato soup from a can. I checked the freezer, which surrendered some of mom’s frozen lasagna, a better prospect than a jar of mayonnaise and the remainder of a half-eaten foot long from Subway. I heated up two platefuls in the microwave.

“Did you call the police?” A worried, but more human, voice said from the doorway. I looked up to see a less ghostly version of the girl I’d brought home, although a little silly looking in the baggy sweats and t-shirt I’d lent her. Her clean hair was blonde and her eyes were the blue-gray of a December sky, and she looked altogether more like a person and less like a wet sewer rat.  “I heard you on the phone.” She added.

“No, I was just calling, ah, a friend.” I concluded lamely. Moms can be friends, right? “But no need to worry, I didn’t say anything about you. Or any of this.” The panicked film left her face. “You want something to eat?” I added quickly.

Mary eyed the lasagna warily and shook her head. “Do you have anything a little less rich?”

I shrugged. “Not really. I can run down to the gas station if you want. It’s only across the street.” She nodded.

When I got back with some soda crackers and an apple she was slouched forward on my saucer chair with her head napping forlornly in her hands. Awkwardly, I knocked on the wall, afraid she might have been crying, but she wasn’t.

“So, you’re probably curious.” She said, half-smiling doggedly.

“Actually, the great thing about me is that I can usually get through life on a minimum information basis. So you know, you don’t have to tell me anything.” I replied hurriedly. I was curious, but at the same time I didn’t really want to know. I just wanted my life to go back to being normal, and it still kind of freaked me out that all this could happen to me. Most of all, I wanted to forget what I had seen.

“Well I don’t mind telling you a little. After all, you did rescue me and you didn’t call the cops. So, for starters, my name’s Mary and I’m twenty-six. What’s your name, hero?”

“You’re twenty-six?” I exclaimed. She looked like a teenager and as it turned out she was older than me. “Gosh, what moisturizer do you use?”

She laughed. I brightened up a bit, suddenly glad that I could cheer her up. I even managed a little half-smile of my own. “And don’t thank me. I’m no hero.”