A Walk

“Promise me you’ll be okay.”

The lock on the door clicks firmly behind me. I shimmy my phone into my shoulder as I check my dress for any fur left over from my needy feline. The setting sun makes a line of gold around the city. The light bounces off my plum fabric. I take a deep breath and head down the sidewalk. 

“I promise.” I knew words wouldn’t please her. It took a miracle for me to convince her it was okay to walk to the movies by myself tonight and I refused to back out of it. Even though I moved into my own apartment and am twenty-five years old, it still feels like I am still under her roof. 

“Remember to watch your surroundings,” her voice, which normally sounded like a soft stream, was ice. She tried to get me to call Dad and have him drop me off at my date. I didn’t want to bother him or his new family. Not after he left Mom. 

“I will,” I held my house keys tightly. The black pepper spray rested comfortably on my palm. The familiar smooth plastic is the only weight of protection I feel.

“You should’ve borrowed money for gas and just drove.” Through the phone, I could hear the Kid’s Channel playing in the background, the ruckus noise of toy ads, and the catchy songs. I imagine my brother with his coloring book. Scratching waxy colors on outlines of tropical animals.

“Mom, you have Garret to take care of. I’ll be okay.” 

“Will you at least text me when you get there?”

“Yes ma’am,” I gave in. 

“It’s amazing you have been seeing this guy for a while now. You should bring him to dinner sometime.” My brain corrected to ‘girl’ and ‘her’, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. I didn’t know if I would ever tell her about Dawn. I could almost hear her small lips in a perk grin. Her dimples shining for the world to see. I never want her smile to go away. 

“Maybe. Someday.”

“I love you,” her words now flow. I remember as a child lying in my rickety bed. Mom sitting on the edge of the mattress reading me a book after a nightmare. She would check under my bed and in my closet. The curtains would be pulled shut, so no creature of the night could see me. I would finally be able to flutter my eyes closed. I still remember the gentle tucking of my blanket and the warm kiss on my forehead. 

“I love you too.” I pressed the glowing red button before Mom could continue harping. I pulled my purse closer to my side. The wind whispers through the buildings and I feel out of place. The moon had completed many cycles and was only a dark orb above me. The stars are like tiny bullet holes in the sky soon to be covered by the incoming clouds. The shadows sharpened the architecture and hid things and brick buildings of my home are so familiar to me but, in the dark, it felt off. As if the world was moved an inch. 

I brush my hair out of my face and let the chilly air brush my cheeks. I let my lungs be filled with the world around me. I roll my tense shoulders and drop my phone into my purse. I won’t need it. The keys in my right hand tap loudly, almost like a beacon for anyone to hear me and know where I am. My left hand gravitates back toward my purse, and I reposition my finger to hover over the emergency button on my phone. 

“I’m okay. Everything is okay,” I say breathlessly.

The mist from my lips reminds me of a rushing train. The way it trails behind it like pencil marks on a map. My pace matches the beat of my heart. I try not to look at the buildings towering over me. The windows are like eyes on a monster. The bricks like veins. The doors like mouths waiting to swallow me whole. 

A bush rustling stings my ears. I look up. I see a man behind the wilted bush limbs. He watches me. His grin molded like clay. A glint of a knife is barely seen from the plant’s trunk. I hold my breath. The man is going to attack and stab me. My heart beats against my chest. A scream caresses the edge of my lips. It’s almost too much. As I walk past, I whip around and hold out the pepper spray. 

There was nothing. I drop my arm. Where the man had been was a pile of black mulch. What I thought was a knife was a discarded beer can. I released my breath that clogged my throat. Adrenaline danced in my blood. I grab my chest. 

“It's just in my head.”

I look up and see that the dark clouds have covered the constellations. The only light came from the streetlights. They became spotlights showing everyone my location. Almost like I am a lead in a play. I pull out my headphones. Music will calm me down. I place them in my ears. 

“Remember to watch your surroundings.”

Mom echoed through me. I rip the buds out. I can still hear the soft classical music coming from them. I drop them back into my purse as I trudge down the street.  The wind has picked up and the smell of rain coats the air. I pull my jacket closer around my body. 

I feel like I should have been there by now. The sidewalk fills with cracks which makes it harder to walk on. I look up to see a dark car parked on the side of the road. The paint is mildly chipped showing a rusty interior. It looks like Mom’s. It can’t be hers. She doesn’t know I am on a date with a woman. When I was eight, I was dragged forcefully to the center of the city to protest against a sea of rainbows. I didn’t want to be there and I didn’t understand why Mom was screaming at people dancing in the streets with beautiful colors talking about love. I never saw so much darkness in someone’s eyes. She forced me to hold a sign that looked like a serial killer made it with cut-out letters listing bible verses. She can’t know. 

Through the shaded window, a figure looms in the driver’s seat. I stop. My gut told me to get away. To go far away. I look both ways before crossing the empty street. 

Then, the car engine stirs to life. My feet start to pick up the pace when the tires grind the pavement. My gut tightens. The weight of the universe collapses on top of me. The rumble of the machine grows louder. I jump into a sprint. My bag smacks my side as I run down the block. Tears stream down my cheeks. My shoes blister my feet. 

I remembered walking down aisles of bookshelves with my mom. My fingers grazed the smooth spines. While my mother elegantly flips through the pages, I pick up a small purple book. Two women held each other in a close embrace. Their puffy dresses twirled into each other. Their eyes stare into each other were the only thing in the world. 

Then the book was out of my hands and was in the strong grip of my mother. Her eyes were ice. Disappointment crystalized. The room froze over, and I held myself. Scripture leaves her lips and stabs into my heart. She placed it back on the shelf and walked away from me. Her slick hair swayed like a waterfall. 

A horn blasts my ear drums and I beg for it to stop. I see the repetitive gold glow of the movie theatre. The rise of dozens of footsteps. The ringing of bikes. The distant police sirens. I look behind me. The headlights strike me. I pull the last bit of strength I have in me. I run as fast as I can.

My fingers finally slap against the glass doors. I burst in. The first thing I see is Dawn. Her blonde hair reflected the bar’s lights. Her pumpkin sweater and short skirt stops my heart. Her cheeks are cherry pink and is wearing her favorite strawberry lipgloss. The taste always gets stuck in my mouth and it has become my favorite too. 

I wipe the sweat from my forehead. I tried to calm my breathing before she saw me, but it was too late. Her eyebrows knit together, and she rushes over to me. 

“Babe are you okay?” her doe eyes look like melted chocolate.

“I- I saw,” I looked back to the street, but there was no car. I glance down further to see it still parked down the road and no one inside. Tension leaves my body and fills me with emptiness. 

“What did you see?”

“Nothing. I just scared myself,” I turn back to her. 

She took my hand and kissed my knuckles, “You sure?”

I nodded. My heart melted and a smile stretched across my face. 

“Okay,” she kissed my forehead. “I got the tickets. You wanna get popcorn?” she grins and holds up the crumpled paper.

“Sure,” I tried to smile back as she turned away. 

I glanced back at the street. The car’s headlights now glowed at me. I imagine my mom in the front seat. Her knuckles are white on the steering wheel. Her blue eyes stare daggers into me. The silver cross bounces off her chest as she huffs in anger. I paused for a moment before following behind Dawn.