Catharsis [Novel]

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER SEVEN

           

 My first instinct is to shrink back and hide in the alley.  This guy’s older than me by several years, and he has a hardened-by-a-life-of-crime look that is outside my meager socio-economic norm.  There are multiple tattoos peeking out from under his white, wife-beater, tank top, and I can see that his eyes are bloodshot even from a distance.  Aside from all that, still something about him feels wrong.  I can’t quite place it, but I know there’s something about him I just don't like (I mean other than the hillbilly-gangster vibe he’s projecting.).

            Even if he’s several inches taller than me and probably has fifty pounds more mass on him, I realize I’ve already had a pretty crappy night and I don't feel like dealing with this.  I’m pretty sure I’ve either recently killed a man or I’d been present when it occurred, and this crazy, midnight cracker isn't worth my worry or fear.

            I don’t feel afraid.  My body is ready for whatever’s going to happen, and that‘s weird since I've been in very few physical scuffles in my life (It’s the benefit of being a girl…and a friendly and outgoing one at that.).  Solving things as a pugilist hasn't been my normal first response (I have gone with my dad to several of his Krav Maga classes, but that hardly qualifies me as a midnight ninja.). 

            But tonight I just stand where I am in the alley.  I’m going to face this guy, this kid actually, and then just get home as soon as possible.

            Walking towards the opening of the alley and the rooster-haired kid, I keep my hands loose and down at my sides.  My goal isn't to fight (Could I even do that if I needed to?  There’s a difference between attacking a padded opponent in class and confronting a real bad guy on a city street.), but I have a feeling I can if that’s what I need to do to make this encounter end quickly.

            As I get closer to him, I hear his breathing speed up and his heart beat accelerate (That's weird.  That doesn't happen normally, does it?  It must be my nerves acting up.).  There’s a stench wafting towards me from him: sweat-soured gym clothes and burnt electricity.  It isn’t pleasant.

            I can tell he hears my approach as his eyes squint slightly and his body hunches forward in anticipation of something's arrival.  That something happens to be me.  Stepping into the pale donut of light cast by the buzzing hornet of a street lamp, I smile my most friendly smile at the guy.

            "What the fu-,"he begins, but I cut him off.  I know where he is going with that train of thought, and it doesn’t mingle well with my good upbringing.

            "Excuse me," I say over his outburst, "but I just woke up a few minutes ago in that alley back there, and I have no idea where I am.  Could you help me?  Maybe give me an idea of where exactly I am aside from north of the city?  I can tell that much from the buildings over there." I point to the skyscrapers that can easily be seen over the buildings to my left, and he glances briefly in that direction following my finger.

            "Or better yet, could you let me use a phone so I can call my parents?  Or would you mind giving me a ride to my place?  I can give directions.  I'm a big girl."

            He looks me up and down quickly, and I assume he is sizing me up and comparing my mass to his own and realizing my embarrassing lack thereof. 

            "What?  No you’re not.  You’re…”  he begins and I cut off him once more.

            "Hey!  No need for that.  I was speaking metaphorically.  We don’t need a short joke."  I say and give him my biggest smile.

            Just to be clear, I don't expect them to give me a ride.  Or to let me use a phone.  Or to give directions or even help me in any way.  But I remembered some advice our instructor gave us last year, "If you lack a strong defense, cover for it with an unrelenting offense.  Keep pressing and keep them off guard.  If you're lucky enough, then they'll keep retreating and never notice you had nothing to back you up."  And that's what I'm doing here.  

            "Who are you?"  he rasps at me  while his unpleasant sour odor gets even stronger in the confines of the alley (It’s not quite in the scared-villain-on-the-roof-top way that Michael Keaton's Batman gets asked, but it would've been more fun if he had.).

            "I'm Catarina, nice to meet you," I say as I step towards him with my hand held out in front of me as if I'm ready to shake hands and sell him insurance.  The last thing I want to do is touch this guy as the smell coming off of him is unbearable, but it feels like the right move.  Press forward and advance in order to make him be the one to retreat.

            He looks briefly at my outstretched hand, shakes his head, and turns back to the growling car on the street behind him.

            Smiling, I silently thank my old instructor for the solid advice.  That worked out better than I’d hoped.

            Taking another step forward (To press my advantage and make the show as convincing as possible.), I ask, "So does this mean you won't help me?  That's not very nice."  There’s a new part of me that is getting slightly upset at his leaving.  This part of me wanted him to advance.  It wanted him to come at me, but I shrug that part off.  It lost. 

            He opens the rear door and turns to me.  "Forget it girl.  You're on your own."  He pauses with the door open, and I feel his eyes drift down and settle on my neck.  They focus there as his disturbing smile comes back (Did I mention he had a particularly disturbing smile before?  Well, he does.  It’s like a clown smile on a polar bear.  Exactly.  Try and imagine that and not have it haunt you afterwards.), and he slowly closes the car door.  Except he’s on the wrong side of it.  He’s still standing in the street.

            Reaching up to touch where he’s staring, I realize my mistake.  My gold chain.  The heirloom I inherited from my aunt when she died last August.  That's what got his attention.

            "Oh poopy socks," I say softly.  And that new part of me that I thought had lost earlier?  I can feel it smile.