Page 78 of Every Step She Takes
She brings me a slice, and I take a bite and pronounce it perfect, as if I am a connoisseur of the dessert. She tells me to wave if I want more, and otherwise, she’ll leave me be.
Before she walks away, I make note of her name tag. Phyllis. When all this is over, I’m sending her the biggest gift basket I can find. I’m sure that, for Phyllis, this is just another shift, and I’m just another 3 a.m. customer needing a place to be for a few hours. For me, though, it’s an act of kindness when I needed it most. I won’t forget that.
I eat my pie, and sip my coffee and read the paper someone left on the counter. It contains nothing on me or Isabella’s death. That would have come yesterday, and with no updates, they don’t mention it. I’m fine with that.
It’s barely five when PCTracy pings me.
PCTracy:Checking in. How’d last night go?
I want to say fine, but I need him to know it was not fine. I need him to have at least some inkling of what I’m facing if he’s going to help me decide my next move.
PCTracy:You there?
LlamaGirl:I had a problem.
PCTracy:Are you okay?
LlamaGirl:I was accosted.
Yes, it’s an odd word to use, but I’m not ready to share my theory.
Theory? You were attacked twice by the same man. That’s a fact.
Doubt still whispers. Not my doubt, but the doubts of those officers when I was stabbed. The doubts of old friends who’d listened to my fears and wondered whether I might be exaggerating a wee bit. Getting paranoid.
PCTracy:What? Where?
LlamaGirl:In a park. It’s okay. I’m fine.
PCTracy:That is NOT okay. I’m the one who suggested you stay out all night.
LlamaGirl:I’m an adult. It was still my choice.
PCTracy:Are you hurt? Are you safe?
I answer more questions, but they’re all about me and my safety. He doesn’t ask for details on the accosting, which seems strange. I’ve left the situation open for everything from attempted sexual assault to a homeless person yelling at me for taking her spot. Yet he only pushes to be sure I’m safe. He presumes that I escaped and that I’m unharmed, but doesn’t ask either. It’s almost as if…
It’s almost as if he knows what happened.
LlamaGirl:I do need to go back, though. I left my backpack.
There’s a pause. A long one.
PCTracy:You dropped it?
LlamaGirl:No, I left it where I was sleeping.
That’s the obvious answer. Yet he presumes I took it. As if heknowsI took it.
PCTracy:Are you sure?
LlamaGirl:Of course, I’m sure. How wouldn’t I be?
No answer.
LlamaGirl:You seem very convinced I didn’t leave my backpack behind.
PCTracy:Sorry. I’m freaking out. I suggested it’d be safe to spend the night out. You could have been assaulted, and it would have been my fault.
