“Oh, please. To live.”
“You can live here for a while.”
Obviously, I had to think of things I could only do at home. “I want to see my family, my friends, go to my jobs, meet new people, work on my acting—”
“Bingo! We will act. Among other things not worth mentioning right now. But most of all, we’ll do some acting.”
He got up, and left me gaping.
Chapter Seven
I needed a cigarette. I grabbed my overnight bag, but couldn’t squeeze it through the bars, so I looked for my pack of cigarettes with my face pressing between two bars.
Unable to find my pack or my lighter, I got frustrated and poured the entire contents of my bag onto the floor. I still couldn’t find them. Why had Damon taken my cigarettes and lighter? Maybe he thought I would set the place on fire. But then why were my Life Savers also missing? Nothing else was gone. I squeezed the empty bag through the bars, and filled it back up slowly.
When I got up and turned around, my eyes landed on what I forgot to ask him about: the TV monitors.
Maybe he liked to be watched. He’d walk around his room naked. That made sense. He already had an exhibitionist streak: walking around in transparent clothes. Why not go the whole way?
I didn’t even try to sleep. I screamed a few times during the night, and banged on the walls, and watched the monitors to see if he stirred. I thought about my parents and wondered when they would start getting worried. I cried a bit.
I sat staring out the bulletproof window. My view of the lit woods was blemished by the bruise marks I had caused and was already regretting. How long would it take for the police to start looking for me? Would I be reported missing on the news, eventually?
I got up and turned on the TV, thinking it would comfort me to be in touch with the free world. And maybe I’d come upon reports of missing people, and I’d understand what types of people got to get reported missing. I found a channel that was broadcasting news at this late hour, and to my astonishment I saw myself on the news! It was a video of me, taken from the back, running away, with Chriskate Turschicraw chasing me down the street. The anchorwoman was saying, “Ever since two o’clock this afternoon, everybody has been wondering: ‘Who is the pursued woman? Who could this woman be, pursued by the woman who is pursued by the world.’ Speculations abound.”
Next, a reporter was interviewing random people on the street, asking them who they thought the pursued woman was.
Someone answered, “I don’t know who she is, but she must be extraordinary, to be chased by such an extraordinary person.”
A man said, “I don’t know, but there must be something about her that’s different. Otherwise, why would the most beautiful woman in the world wanna catch her?”
Someone else said, “I think she must be a very famous actress or rock star. Or maybe another model.”
This time the reporter replied, “But didn’t you see the footage of the pursued woman? She doesn’t have a model’s body.”
“No, I didn’t see it. I heard the story on the radio. I don’t have a TV.”
Someone else said, “No, you can tell from her back that she’s not someone exceptional. I mean, she’s far from perfect, her butt’s not like rock. I think she’s an ordinary citizen, which is what makes it exciting. It means that any one of us could be chased down the street by someone like the Shell. It’s uplifting. You don’t have to be someone special, someone famous, to be pursued by people of worth.”
I watched, gaping. Maybe this insane broadcast meant that I was only dreaming. Maybe I had fallen asleep on Damon’s couch, and everything afterward had not really happened, including my imprisonment. Or better yet, maybe I had fallen asleep at home, after my bath, and had only dreamed that Damon called inviting me to the country.
I opened my eyes as wide as possible to wake myself up, in case this was indeed a dream. I had often used this technique successfully to wake myself up from nightmares. But this time nothing happened; the world didn’t change.
The anchorwoman came back on the screen. “The nation asks the pursued woman: please step forward. Let us know who you are. Let us know you.”
I screamed for Damon. The nation wanted me. I had to step forward. He had to let me step forward. Good excuse to be released. But he didn’t budge in his bed.
I stayed awake all night.
At ten of eight, Damon was still sleeping in his bed. At eight o’clock he came in, carrying a bag. He took out a key and entered my cell without hesitating.
I was mildly insulted. After all, I was the caged, angry animal, and what was he doing coming into my cage, risking his life? I felt like an emasculated beast.
“Hi,” he said, chewing gum. “You probably didn’t get much sleep. We can take it easy today.”
He plopped his bag down and was about to sit on the floor against the wall, when I told him about my fame as the pursued woman. I convinced him to watch the news with me until the story came on, which it did, to my relief. When the footage of the chase was shown, I told him that was me, running away from Chriskate Turschicraw. He was surprised, got a kick out of it, but said it changed nothing to his plan: the nation would have to wait to meet me. I told him I wanted the nation to meet me now, and that this could be a great opportunity for my acting career.
“Nonsense,” he said. “You have to be a good actress. Being pursued by Chriskate Turschicraw might open doors, but it won’t win you Oscars. Which leads me to what I want to talk to you about. To prepare myself to become your trainer, I’ve read many books on acting, which I’m sure you’ve read as well. I don’t think we should follow their theories. We won’t follow any theory. We’ll just act.” He smiled. “I also read some scene books, but I don’t think we’ll do any scenes from them. I’ll write scenes myself that we can memorize and perform.”
He took out of his bag a little notepad and flipped it open. “I also took notes of your desires and wishes. I will do everything in my power to make them come true.”
“Did you have this whole thing planned from the beginning or did you decide to kidnap me on the spur of the moment?”
“We were by the river one day when the idea came to me. I had been trying to figure out a way to repay you for saving me.”
“You realize it’s illegal what you’re doing?”
“Yes, I know.”
“I suggest you try to make me happy in a legal way.”
“Don’t worry, Anna, the end will justify the means, you’ll see. It’s simply a question of delayed gratification.”
“What are these TV monitors for?”
“I thought you might feel less lonely if you could see me doing stuff in the rest of the house. It might reassure you somehow, destroy an uncomfortable feeling of mystery.”
“Yes, it’ll make me feel better to see you enjoying your freedom while I’m in this cage.”
With the sudden, un-thought-out urge of a wild animal, I decided to attack Damon. I threw myself on him and tried to strangle him. He did not push me away, but instead reached into his bag and pulled out a gun. I immediately stopped my attack and stared at the gun in shock, not because I hadn’t dreamed it possible that he would have a gun, but because this was a water gun. Damon was not laughing, or even smiling. The gun was bright orange transparent plastic.
I rushed to the bathroom and closed the door and laughed, trying not to let him hear me. I wanted to neither flatter him nor offend him with my laughter. I buried my face in the thick bath towel and laughed until my eyes were wet with tears and I could barely breathe. The thought of him, in his transparent outfit, shooting his orange water gun, while his jiggling willy was faintly visible, was overwhelming.