There was plenty of room and he wasn’t hurting anyone by being there. And truth be told, she found his presence beside her as consoling as it was disconcerting.
Her gaze returned to the pattern on the rug three feet in front of her. She sighed and began to feel calm and content for the first time in… a really long time. When he reached over to gently pat her thigh, she found it reassuring, not forward or offensive at all. Soothing. Relaxing.
She judged him to be about her age. As bizarrely dressed as he was, and as unconcerned as he seemed about exposing his emotions, there was a part of her that admired his spirit and bravery. Envied him, really. He was extreme, unquestionably. Deranged, perhaps. But at least he wasn’t afraid to express himself, to stand out, to do what he wanted to do.
She couldn’t recall the last time she’d made a major life decision on her own and stuck to it. From the day she was born, late in her parents’ lives, until this very moment, everything had been lovingly planned and laid out for her. It was assumed that she would set her feet into the trail of prints they left for her, step after step, and she had. Now here she was, almost thirty years old, living the life her parents had chosen for themselves, and not at all the woman she once dreamed of becoming.
She wore her long mousey brown hair in a simple knot or a ponytail at the back of her head for convenience. Her clothes were neat and functional rather than trendy and attractive. Makeup was a bother she didn’t bother with. She had her father’s short thin nose, her mother’s full lips, and moss-colored, almond-shaped eyes – a gene from her grandmother Gibson, whom she’d never met. All fine donations, but in the end, all they added up to was plain. Charlotte was plain. It wasn’t what she set out to be but -
She jumped when she felt a heavy hand on her left shoulder, and was surprised to see Mr. Robins standing beside her chair. He was a tall somber man who couldn’t have looked more like a mortician if he tried.
He bent at the waist and murmured, „Charlotte. I didn’t mean to startle you.“
„Oh. No. I was just…“ Had he come to ask her new friend to leave? It was undoubtedly for the best, but she couldn’t help feeling disappointed. The man was such a kind, gentle soul. She hoped there wouldn’t be a scene as she envisioned the funeral director dragging him, kicking and screaming, from the room in his absurd outfit – ruby shoes flailing, giant jacket hiked up over the football pants, legs straining therein. „He isn’t disturbing anything, is he?“
Mr. Robins glanced at her father’s coffin. „No, of course not. And there’s still plenty of time if you’re expecting more people.“
„More people?“ She hadn’t expected this many people. „No. I think… I think this is about it. Has it been two hours already?“
„Almost. But if you’d like more time – “
„No. God, no.“ She cut him off and snatched up her purse. „I’ve had plenty of time. Thank you so much for everything you’ve done. You’ve been very kind.“
„Not at all. Everything has been arranged for the graveside service in the morning, just as we discussed.“
„Nine o’clock, right?“ She stood up.
„Our car will pick you up at 8:30 sharp.“
„Great.“ She hesitated. „Should we call someone – “ She turned and discovered that her peculiar companion had already left his seat. She glanced around looking for him. „Did you see which way he went? It might not be safe for him to be wandering around on his own.“
„Who?“
„That guy who was sitting here.“
„I’m sorry. I just came in. I didn’t see anyone leave.“
„No, he was there a minute ago… when you first came up.“
He smiled tolerantly. „You were deep in thought. Perhaps you didn’t notice when he left.“
She stared at the empty chair. Maybe it was just as well that he’d slipped out undetected. She disliked the idea of him locked up somewhere. She thought of electroshock therapy and shuddered. But he was so sweet and friendly and the world could be a terrible place for people like that. She hoped he would be all right.
Mr. Robins was looking at her askance.
„You’re probably right. It’s been a strange few days.“
Two
The days got stranger as the week wore on.
Learning that Mrs. Kludinski and Martha White were planning to attend the graveside ceremony as well, Charlotte invited them to ride in the family limousine with her. In fact, she was prepared to beg them to join her rather than take the sad, solemn ride to and from the cemetery alone – but it hadn’t been necessary.
Like most Seattle days it was cloudy and overcast, the early spring wind was still winter chilly. The service was short and dignified… like Dad, she thought, in a moment of light nostalgia. She thought back to her seventeenth birthday and her father’s tradition of marking her height on the bright yellow wall behind the kitchen door. It surprised him and delighted her to discover they were both 5 feet 7 inches tall, and in a rare display of vanity, he’d stretched and wiggled and hyper-extended his spine a quarter of an inch up the wall to top her – then asked her please to stop growing. An inch later she did, though the marks on the wall never changed.
They were leaving the cemetery when she saw the peculiar man again. Dressed as he was in the same outrageous outfit, how could she miss him? He stood beside an angelic head stone and waved as the limo passed by.
„Stop! Please stop,“ she called to the driver. „He’s missed the service.“
„Who?“ Elderly Mrs. Kludinski and Martha craned their necks to look out every window in every direction. „Who missed the service? I don’t see anyone.“
„That man standing over there by the angel.“ She made a vague gesture with her head as she scrambled closer to the door, waiting for the long black Cadillac to come to a complete stop before getting out. „I’m pretty sure I don’t know who he is, but if he walked here I want to make sure he can get back to… to wherever he came from. He was at the viewing yesterday, remember? He sat with me?“
She glanced over in time to see the exchange of confused frowns.
„Nice-looking man? About my age? Wearing that weird black jacket?“ She was reluctant to use the kicker but she would if they didn’t stop staring at her like that. „Big, sparkling red shoes?“
„Are you feeling nauseated, dear?“ Mrs. Kludinski was all concern. „Dizzy? Let’s roll down the windows and get some air in here, shall we?“
Frustrated, Charlotte twisted around in her seat to look through the rear window, straight back to the stone angel, its hands extended in welcome, wings poised for flight – but there was no tall, handsome man in big red shoes. A hard, painful knot of anxiety formed just below her sternum as she got out of the limo. He was nowhere in sight.
And yes, she did feel a little sick about it.
He crossed her mind again two nights later as she sat alone at a table for two eating an early dinner in her father’s favorite Italian restaurant just down the street from their apartment.
No, it was her apartment now.
She hadn’t taken more than two bites when she glanced up and saw the bizarre man in the window, looking in longingly at her favorite scaloppini.
Thrilled, but mostly astounded to see him there, she sucked in a sharp breath and choked on a small piece of shrimp – coughing and hacking and beating her own chest. When she could breathe again and focus beyond the tears in her eyes, he was gone again.
It didn’t occur to her until late the next afternoon that he might be… well… stalking her. It wasn’t something she normally worried about. She wasn’t rich or beautiful – there were whole days, in fact, when she suspected she was invisible to the human eye. What could be safer?