Chapter One

Eating out at restaurants was not something I particularly enjoyed.  If it weren’t for how expensive hamburgers were, or how loud the neighboring table was, it was the insufferable company you were made to keep.  Tonight, was not an exception to any of this.

            My sister had no idea how to set me up on a proper date.  She always found someone she found interesting, then forced me to experience their presence for a few hours before we said awkward goodbyes, and went on with our evenings.  She meant well, but she had terrible taste in men.  Or at least the people she thought would be “absolutely perfect” for me.  This particular gentleman, I believe he called himself Greg, showed how little I should care about him from the moment he said hello.  He leaned in a tried to give a friendly hug when we said hello, and on his approach, I couldn’t think of anything past his smell.  It charged toward me, leading his way to my senses.  He smelled like a man much older than he should, his aftershave and cologne being something of a tradition.  It was thick on his skin.  My eyes were watering from the little greeting, and it wasn’t because I wanted to be with him for the rest of my life.

            Dinner was pleasant, I guess.  It wasn’t an absolute disaster, though he was a bit cheesy with some of his moves.  He pulled a classic, “Here, try this.  You’ll love it,” and attempted to feed me little nibbles of chicken and pasta.  I hate it when people do that.  Why would you even think about that?  Who wants to eat off your fork on the first date?  I don’t even know what you did fifteen minutes before getting here.  You could have been doing something far too… on second thought, no.  Just no.

            Thankfully he didn’t want anything for dessert.  He seemed to have exhausted himself trying to impress me with his ability to pick up a $50 check.  Good for him.  I’m glad he’s working.  I didn’t bother to let him try to walk me to my car.  I didn’t need the courtesy of an escort just outside the restaurant’s burning neon entrance.  We said our goodbyes, and that was that.  He left to God only knows, and I sat in my car.  Alone.  There’s a great need for my quiet in the world.  It helps you really thank about what’s going on around you without the distractions we find ourselves enduring day after day.  When Angela sets me on with someone, I make it a custom to leave my phone in the car.  Last time I brought one with me, she texted me almost non-stop looking for any detail that she succeeding at being Cupid’s second shift relief.  Normally there are anywhere before 10 to 15 different messages begging for how things went.  I don’t answer them, but instead tell her how good my meal was.  She hates it.

            I read through her string of texts.  Each one asked for something about Greg and what we’ve done so far.  “What do you think?”, “Isn’t he tall?”, “What a gentleman, right?”. I don’t know what she expects from me at this point.  I don’t have her taste in men.  I never had, nor will I ever.  She always went for the high school track star or the quarterback-types.  I don’t care about those.  They usually don’t bring much to the table, and if they do, they just want something else that Angela refuses to admit.  She’s never had the luxury of looking for someone who would make you care about the world around you.

            I thrive off my disdain for others.  It’s almost a pastime with how much energy I spend not caring about what’s happening around me.  It takes talent to be so mentally distant from everything.  It’s a game at this point.  I know I sound like a cliché at this point.  I’m the classic outcast who seems to find no place for themselves and everyone just looks so obnoxious because they aren’t like me.  I promise that that wasn’t my goal in life, but how things happened.  I don’t like being the way I am, but if you feel most comfortable living your life a certain way, best just to keep going on like it.  I know I’m broken.  I just don’t know how to fix it.

Angela’s convinced I just need the right person to help inspire me.  To help me be a better person by convincing me that it is what I want most right now.  Granted, I would like to smile more openly and enjoy one of her attempts to find someone for me, even for just one night, but it’s hard when all you see are the faults in other people.

I continued to sit in my car in silence.  The hum and murmurs of everyone outside faded into the blackness of my mind.  I just stared at the Volkswagen crest on my steering wheel, tracing the angles up and down, circling it, then doing it again.  This has almost become a post-date ritual.  It’s been one of the few things to help me forget about why I didn’t like the person who just bought my meal.

My cell phone vibrated next to me.  The screen lit up to a cartoon picture of a fox chasing a leaf.  The notification window covered a part of the image.  It was another text message.  I picked it up and swiped the screen.  The screen blazed brightly for a second, then dimmed as the message opened.  “Get out of the car and walk behind the restaurant.”  I didn’t recognize the number, and few people had mine unless Angela asked if she could give it out to someone.  I hesitated.  I wanted to drive away, but curiosity, being the terrible thing that it pulled me back toward the phone.  I could drive my car around back and see who was there.  That was undoubtedly safer than walking, alone, at night, by myself.

I readied the ignition.  The car purred up, and I put my hand on the gear shift, ready to go.  My phone vibrated again.  “Get out of the car NOW and walk behind the restaurant.”  The same person.  I tapped the phone icon at the top of the screen.  I wasn’t going to get out of the car for nothing.

The line rang twice before it cut out.  There was no voicemail prompt, but some didn’t pick up the hang up at once.  “The hell?” I said under my breath.  I called Angela.  There were only two people who I knew that knew I would be here tonight: her and Greg.

“F**k, finally you answer me.  How was everything?  Isn’t he awesome?”  She never bothered with hellos on nights like this.  “I want to know everything!”

“Don’t be a sitcom sister.  It’s not a good look.”  She sighed.  “Ange, how well do you know Greg?”

“I’ve worked in the cube next to his for the past three years.  We’ve talked every day, so I’d say pretty well.  Why?  What’s wrong this time?”

She worked at a call center.  She wasn’t super proud of her job, but she liked it well enough to make a happy living off it.  “I just got a couple of texts telling me to get out of my car.  I’m still at the restaurant.  I don’t know who’s sending them, and I’m hoping that they aren’t from Greg.  He was… nice?”

“Why are you asking me?  Did you call the number?”

“Yep.  Nothing.  No voice mail, and no one answered.  Kind of bizarre.”  I could hear her clambering around.  She dropped something that had a very metallic twang to it.

“I doubt that’s him texting you.  Mom knows you’re on a date, but I didn’t tell her where this time.  Did you tell anyone who would have your number?”

“Hell no!  I don’t like people enough for that.”  I turned my car off.  “This better not be that weird guy from a few weeks ago, the one with all of the cats.  He better not be a stalker now.”

She laughed, “If Jason were a stalker, he’d be terrible.  He can barely walk.  I’ve never known anyone clumsier.  You sure you didn’t give your number out to anyone yourself, right?  You didn’t sign up for anything recently?”

“You’re joking, right?  I still use mom’s house number at the grocery store.  No way.”

The phone vibrated again.  I opened my text, and before me was a picture of me on the phone.  Below it: “Hang up.  Get out of the car NOW.”

“F**k!  F**k!”

“Hey, what’s wrong?  What’s going on?” Angela shouted into the phone.

“I gotta go.  I’ll call you later!”  I hung up quickly, but not before hearing her last squeak of a protest.  I threw the phone onto the passenger seat and grabbed at my hair.

“S**t, s**t, s**t!”  Freaking out was an understatement.  What should I do?  Should I leave?  Should I call the police?  I had no idea.  I didn’t want to police to come if it was Greg.  I can handle him, even with his sudden burst of aggressiveness.  But what it wasn’t?  What if it was one of Angela’s other attempts?  Dear God… could this be happening?

With panic taking over, I grabbed my phone, Angela calling my pocket on a constant loop, and got out of the car.  I didn’t like the idea of what I was going, but at least Angela knew something wasn’t right.  It was something at least.

Diners moved all about.  Some coming in, others leaving.  They were all so happy to be there.  I looked like a looming storm working my way around the building.  The cold red brick walls were set off by bushes.  Not only did they hide the mass amounts of garbage that lined the building’s edge, but it also hid the easiest path to the back of the building.  I would be lying if I said I hadn’t spent a healthy amount of time back here when I was younger.  There was nothing more than a few garbage barrels, but certain days of the week, the managers would come back here and give a free burger to anyone smart enough to wait for it.  The rejects had to go somewhere.

I made my way closer and closer to the back, my shoes started to stick to the ground.  The lights weren’t working bath here either, which just added to the uncomfortable feeling in my gut.  “I should just walk back and call the police,” I repeated to myself repeatedly.

As I rounded the corner toward the dumpster, something wafted up.  It was foul, to say the least.  The smell was hot and almost steamy.  It didn’t smell like any garbage I’ve ever had the displeasure of smelling.  And it didn’t smell like a kitchen.  It was thick and oppressive.  How was no one else smelling this?

My feet continued to pull to the ground, lifted wrappers and chips alike.  It was getting worst as I walked closer.  Why weren’t the lights on?  They were all out back here.  I’m sure someone is going to get fired for not having them on at night.  I kept moving.  Slowly.

My phone wasn’t buzzing anymore.  Either Angela gave up, or it was dead.  Neither of those ideas comforted me.

I could see something on the ground in front of me.  It was big and lumped, like bags of garbage just thrown onto the cement slab.  But it didn’t have the shine of trash bags.  My feet continued to stick to the concrete, even after the debris from the side of the building fell off.  Why was I doing this?  Was I an idiot?  Suicidal?

The closer I got, the more I could make out the pile in front of me.  It laid splayed out, branching toward the edges of the slab with what looked like an anchor stuck into the ground.  Greg…

Author's Note

I'm looking for general notes. I want honest opinions from people so I know where I may have an opportunity to improve. I know that there may be some conflicting opinion, but I want to weigh all options, even the ones in my own head equally with those provided for me.

Reviews

[Evans]

It's really good!!
I love the main character and her way of thinking. I wish I knew a little more about her sister. The setting and tone of chapter is breathtaking.
Love it
-Evans