The Intrusion

Twenty

[Jordan]

A waitress comes to our table to take our order. She tells us her name, but I forget it five seconds later. I order a pint of Molson Canadian and select at random a basket of wings with a sauce name that is a not-so-great attempt at a pun but close enough to being funny it still managed to make me smile when I read it. Andy also orders a beer, but he selects a less exciting basket of wings—just BBQ sauce. L-A-M-E.

We watch the hockey game quietly as we wait for our food and beer. The Vancouver Canucks are playing the New York Islanders. How fitting.

"Do you like hockey?" I ask Andy when the game goes to an intermission between the first and second periods. The Islanders are up by one point.

"I'm Canadian," he replies, as though that should be answer enough to my question.

I smile at him.

An advertisement for Tim Horton's comes on.

The waitress brings us our drinks and our food.

"Was it nice having your sister visit?" I take a sip from my beer.

He shrugs. "Yeah, it was nice."

"So where does she live, again?"

"White Rock."

I nod. "Cool." I pretend to know where that is. "So, what do you usually do on the weekends when she isn't here?"

"Not that much, Jordan," Andy says. "I don't have many friends. I've told you this."

I smile at him awkwardly. "Andy, how much of Friday night do you remember?" I finally ask.

Andy flushes. "I remember enough." He looks away and stares at his beer, passing it back and forth between his hands. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I threw up on the sidewalk and you had to carry me home. I don't normally drink like that. I'm s-"

"Andy," I cut him off. "It's fine, really. It's fine. It was my fault for getting you that drunk. Don't worry about it."

He looks back up at me, trying to smile.

I take a sip of beer. "Do you remember what you told me that night? Right before we left the bar."

Andy stares at me blankly before shaking his head.

"You said that you've been watching me. You said that you'd seen me from your apartment, out your window. Do you remember that?"

Andy thinks for a moment. "Yes," he finally replies. "I guess I remember saying that."

"Do you remember what you told me when I took you home? When I was putting you to bed, right before you fell asleep?"

"No," Andy says.

"You told me you had a dream about me. Do you remember telling me that?"

"No."

"Do you remember the dream?" I ask. "Do you remember what it was about?"

"I don't know what you are talking about," Andy says sternly.

"Andy," I begin. "You told me that you dreamed that you came into my apartment while I was asleep. You said that in the dream you were a dark shadow figure. Do you remember that dream?"

"I don't know."

"Andy!" I nearly shout. "You have to tell me!"

"No!" Andy shakes like he is shivering, but it isn't cold out. "I don't remember having that dream. I didn't have that dream. It wasn't me!"