"Get a dog," they said. “You won’t be so lonely.” Alone isn’t always lonely. But I'm weak, and I don’t want to lose the few people who still talk to me, so I gave in. My comfort zone has been breached. Now, at least three times a day, I have to walk the thing and engage in the most banal chit-chat with complete strangers.
I love the dog. I think his name is Roger. I call him that. Sometimes he answers to that. Sometimes he doesn’t. Everything would be fine if he was an indoor dog, but he insists on going outside, and the yard just won’t do.
So we go for walks. He sniffs everything and pees on most of what he sniffs. He likes meeting other dogs but loses interest after the initial sniff. What he loves most is to meet people. Everyone wants to pet him. Some people have treats for him. Those are his favorites.
All this would be fine, but those people who pet him insist on talking to me. So many stupid questions, mostly answered with "I don’t know." He’s a rescue.” For some reason people are not satisfied with this answer. Why do strangers feel they have so much authority over my dog?
And yes, some of those strangers are beautiful women who aren’t wearing wedding rings, but even with the ice broken by the dog, I assume that if I hit on them they’d think I was a stalker, just using the dog as an in. Which is true, I guess, but not my intent.
So I was shocked by a knock on the door after last night’s walk. A woman we met earlier in the day was at the door with a bag of food. Not dog food. People food. She barged in before I could ask how she knew where we lived. Roger was happy, assuming the food was for him. Well, some of it was.
Her name was Nancy, or so she said. She laughed when I asked to see her ID. She laughed harder when I told her I wasn’t kidding. Eventually she relented and showed me her driver’s license. The address was nearly in view of my front porch. Partial relief.
I apologized for not having wine. Wine is a social drink. I’m not social. She said it was fine, but I didn’t believe her. She was starting to realize her mistake. The red flags were scooting up the pole. I assumed she’d take off when the food was done. Or maybe I hoped. Anyway, she didn’t.
As I threw away the packaging and cleaned the silverware, she and Roger settled on the couch. My skin crawled when I heard the TV go on. I couldn’t imagine the nerve of turning on someone else’s TV. Then she yelled, “I love this show!”
I remembered that last night I was watching the Corner Gas channel on streaming. I assumed she was lying, but before I could come up with a gotcha question, she said, “It’s the one where Lacey has to keep redoing Emma’s nails.” Oh oh. That is a good one.
I finished in the kitchen and joined them on the couch, Roger lying between us, his head on Nancy’s lap. Traitor.
I was something close to happy, sitting on that couch. At the same time I was confused and terrified. I was in my safe spot, but everything was out of control. If the show never ended, I could remain in a state of nervous bliss forever. But the show did end. What to do?
Nancy stood up and apologized that she had to go. I was still processing my relief when she bent over and kissed me on the cheek. She was gone out the front door before I could respond. I felt violated, but it was OK. I spent hours trying to decipher my emotions.
I am not a social person, but I am a functioning heterosexual male. However, my sexual encounters are always planned and sometimes purchased so that there is minimal intrusion into my life. Tonight was the closest thing I’ve had to a date since high school. What confused me most was my inability to say no to Nancy.
Three days later on the way home from a walk, the dog spotted Nancy and dragged me over to her. OK, I didn’t resist that much. After the obligatory dog pets and mutual weather commentary, my brain betrayed me, and my mouth said, “I suppose I owe you a dinner.” What? Did I just say that?
Nancy smiled and asked when. I guess the blankness of my brain was portrayed by the blankness of my face. She laughed and said she’d love to try the new seafood place. I nodded, probably blankly. She set the day and time. I agreed and went home planning how to get out of this.
My first ploy was my dislike of seafood. However, the restaurant’s website assured me that there were plenty of non-fishy alternatives. I thought of saying that the dog was sick, but that would have just brought her over to care for him. All these lame excuses made me wonder if I was serious about canceling.
Apparently I was not. Friday evening found me sitting by the ocean enjoying some very good chicken strips, across from, I had to admit, a very attractive woman. Away from home I was less defensive and went through the ritual of questions and answers.
Nancy was hiding something. At first, I assumed I was being paranoid, but there was a hole in our conversation that she kept steering away from. It wasn’t any of the usual parameters, like job, criminal record, ancestry. Then she noticed that I’d noticed.
“That’s why we picked you. You’re clever," she said.
“We?”
“You’ll see.”
A week later I found myself comparing numbers on doors to the numbers on the note Nancy slipped through my mail slot. I matched the digits and entered a basement dive bar I never knew existed. No sign outside. Blacked-out windows. A modern-day speakeasy. I fell in love with the place the instant I walked through the door.
The bar was battered and duct-taped together. The bartender did not give a rat's ass about anything. What caught my eye, though, was the red leather booth in the corner. It was glorious. Well worn, but not worn out. It looked like someone dangerous and fascinating should be sitting there. I wasn’t sure I was worthy.
I rarely drink hard liquor but felt that it was required if I were to sit in that glorious corner booth. I took my scotch and beer and slid into the booth. I was so busy getting comfy I didn’t notice the giant pitbull that plopped down next to me. He eyed me suspiciously, but when I scratched behind his left ear, he decided I was OK.
There was a stinky candle burning on the table. I blew it out and moved it as far away as possible. I hate unnecessary odors, and not much a fan of open flames in general.
I downed the scotch then drowned my burning throat with beer. Fortunately, I hadn’t coughed like some tenderfoot. Not that the bartender would have cared. For a while I was alone. My phone told me I was on time. Nancy was late, but not for long.
We traded smiles when she entered. She walked towards me, making sure I noticed that she was a woman. She slid into the booth beside me, which the rando pitbull did not appreciate. His growl sent Nancy jumping back.
“What are you doing?”
“Drinking my beer. Scratching Rando’s ears.”
“He’s dangerous!”
I stopped scratching and looked down at the dog. He nosed me to continue, so I did. “Doesn’t seem dangerous to me.”
Nancy stiffened and spun around, looking at the front door, making almost squeaking noises. She twitched like a child about to be released into a room full of Christmas presents.
A woman dressed all in black came in, walked over, sat across from me, and scowled. She was trailed into the bar by a trio of young women, who stopped at the bar to order drinks. The bartender made some very complicated concoctions and set six glasses on a round tray, which he would not let any of the women carry.
He took the tray around the bar and followed them to the booth. I told the dog to scoot over to make room for people. He harumphed at me, jumped down, and plopped into the lap of the scowling woman. After sliding around to fit everyone, for the scowling woman did not move, all that was separating me from her was the dog.
Nancy was beside me, and past her were the other three. The bartender distributed the glasses. I told him no thanks, but he left it anyway. When he was gone, the scowling woman lifted her glass and took a sip. The others followed. When I didn't, Nancy elbowed me in the ribs.
“Drink it," she pretend whispered.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Pumpkin Spice Daiquiri.”
“Oh, definitely no thank you.”
The scowling woman almost smiled. “You don’t like pumpkin spice?”
“I do not. It burns”
Then she did smile and turned her attention to Nancy. “How about that, Nancy? He doesn’t like pumpkin spice. It burns.”
Nancy squirmed.
“Am I missing something?” I asked.
“Did you blow out the candle?” The again-scowling woman asked.
“Yeah, so?”
“Do you know why you are here?”
“I’m guessing I was going to be asked to join your cult.” I laughed. “Not interested.”
The scowling woman surpassed her previous scowls.
“Do you want your fortune told?” Asked the middle nameless woman. I think she was trying to relieve the tension.
I figured I'd play along. “Sure, why not?”
"OK, concentrate.” The nameless woman said.
“By the way,” said Nancy, “this is Feather, Martha, and June,” pointing to the three women next to her.
“And I’m Carol.” Said the scowling woman. “Martha, do you really expect to read his mind?”
“I told you I've been practicing.” Martha complained, then turned back towards me. “OK, concentrate.” She put her fingers to her temples.
I concentrated on what I always concentrate on when facing psychics. Nobody has ever been close, and from the look on Martha’s face, neither was she.
“Candles?” Carol giggled.
“Oh shit!” I said to myself. “Yes, don’t waste candles.” I said out loud. “It’s the last thing my mother said before she died. She didn’t want us lighting candles for her.” I almost didn’t continue, but I did. “I’m impressed.”
“I would have gotten it eventually.” Complained Martha. I’m not the only one who doubted that.
In an attempt to remove myself from the situation, I said to Carol, “Well, I’m obviously not who you're looking for.” But as I tried to stand, Carol motioned for me to sit. She got angry when I didn't but again directed most of her unhappiness at Nancy.
“What are you afraid of?” The question was obviously for me, but she was still looking at Nancy.
“Not sure what you mean," I said.
Carol turned to me. “You have gifts that you’ve never used. At first I thought you were unaware, but I was wrong.” The others gasped at that admission. “You’re afraid of yourself.”
I wish I could have been surprised by what she said. I’ve always known there was something wrong with me. Something I pushed way down inside me. Something nobody else ever suspected. I looked at Nancy. She must have seen it too.
“Now you know.” I said to Carol. I smiled at Nancy. “I would like to leave now.”
Carol and her dog cleared my way and I vacated the glorious booth. My butt was missing it by the time I got to the door.
Returning home from our after dinner walk we found Nancy sitting on the front doorstep. She smiled at me and pet Roger. Roger wagged his tail and I called him a traitor. He glared at me like he knew what I meant.
She then apologized for not telling me what would be happening at the bar. She believed that I would be a good fit for the group.
I opened the door and let Roger in, and I was about to say goodbye when she asked, “Aren’t you going to invite me in?"
I had a moment of caution, like she was a vampire and could only come in if I invited her. Then I remembered that she'd already been in the house, so what difference did it make? Then the darkness peeked out of its hidey-hole in my brain.
“Drink?” I asked.
“Please.” She said.
I had wine, which I bought after the last time when I didn’t have any, and beer in the fridge but judged both to be too weak for the moment. I got the tequila off the cereal shelf and poured a couple stiff drinks. Nancy did not hesitate and swallowed half her glass in a single gulp. I felt myself getting hard. No more booze for her, though. I like em tipsy, not sloshed.
Oh. I might not have mentioned, but I can be an asshole. Especially around women. I hate the feeling of superiority and conquest leading me towards sex. Reluctant seduction. I don’t want to be that guy, but maybe I am.
I told her I wasn’t mad at her, just feeling embarrassed. She was trying to convince me that the rejection by the group wasn’t final. That I would still be able to join if I could convince them that I wanted to. I told her I didn’t want to.
Then she let it out that she didn’t want to chose between the group and me. I wondered if it was really one or the other but didn’t vocalize the thought. I sensed her drifting away from me, so I pretended to give in.
She laid out a strategy for getting on Carol’s good side. I moved closer, nodding. When she finally asked what I thought of her plan, I kissed her. My kiss was a lie, but she was fooled and silently consented to my unspoken plan.
Roger followed us to the bedroom and was pissed when I shut him out. I’d never had an overnight guest since I got him, so he didn’t understand what was happening.
The sex was good until suddenly, in the middle of everything, I got the guilts. My darker side had been in charge till then but stepped away. A brief internal argument ensued, but I decided that Nancy was a grown woman and knew what she was doing. In the current context, she really seemed to know what she doing.
We finished all hot and sweaty. Like a good man, I fell fast asleep with her still lying on top of me. Some time after that, the dream began.
I dreamed I woke up, but I knew I was in a dream. I was alone in bed, but I heard Nancy singing in the hall. I didn’t recognize the song, but it was pleasant. She could carry a tune. She came into the room wearing long see-through robes. I assumed that the see-through part was put there by my subconscious.
She came over and stood beside me. This is where my mind betrayed the reality of the dream. She left the door open, but the dog didn’t come in. That wasn’t right. Then I noticed that her singing wasn’t really that pleasant. It was more like a chant. Was she speaking Latin? Couldn’t tell. I don’t know Latin.
Then she was holding a large knife. I’m ashamed to say that I did not immediately respond. The image of an almost naked woman, chanting and holding a knife, evoked my earliest sexual stirrings watching late-night horror movies on channel 27. It was only when I saw the knife plunging towards me did I react.
I rolled away from her and got to my feet on the other side of the bed with the stealth that only dreams allow. The knife was somehow stuck in my mattress. No matter how hard she pulled, the knife wouldn’t budge. As I walked around the bed, she backed against the wall whimpering. I grabbed her by the throat and squeezed hard.
Then I woke up. Standing beside my bed, my hands around Nancy’s neck, squeezing hard. I stood there for a long time watching Nancy trying to catch her breath. Then I let go. I let her live. I had the power to take her life from her. I had the power to take my pleasure from her. I was a god. I saw a flash of all I controlled. A vast universe that was mine to control.
Then I took a long look around that universe. It was empty. It was a tunnel with no end. No light to walk towards. Just meaningless chaos built upon chaos. This is what I knew I feared within myself. I sat down on the bed and cried. I had become that guy.
I don’t know when Nancy sat down beside me. I turned and looked her in the eyes.
“You were still asleep when you started choking me.” She said.
“Yeah.”
“How?”
“I was choking you in my dream.”
“But people are paralyzed when they dream.”
“Not me. I taught myself to not be frozen. That’s why I have to sleep alone. If I have a nightmare, it’s not safe to be next to me.”
She hesitated. I thought she was going to ask me why I didn’t kill her. I was busy forming a cynical answer when she said, “We need to learn to channel your power.”
I didn’t expect her to say that. I didn’t like it. “Go home.”
“You could have anything.”
“Only someone as weak as you would think like that.”
She slapped me. I laughed. She slapped me again and stormed out.
I heard the dog growl at her, then the front door slammed. A moment later the dog came in and lay beside me. We were friends again. I got dressed and took him for a walk. It was dark and quiet, and nobody bothered us.
