Leave the lights off. Whatever you do, leave the lights off. I know, it’s weird. But it’s better in the dark. Why, you ask? I’ll tell you, but you have to promise to believe. If you aren’t going to believe me, there’s no reason for me to say anything at all. So you have to promise you’ll believe. Do you believe?
One night, I was alone in a parking lot outside of Murray’s, you know, that dive bar off fifth? I know, not exactly the kind of place for a lady. Back then, I wasn’t a lady or even trying to be. Nothing mattered. It wouldn’t matter to you either if your husband had just packed up and bounced with your children in tow for parts unknown. I should have been spending time trying to get them back. Should have. Could have. Didn’t. You know the mantra. I know it well. The first step is to admit you have a problem.
I have a problem. I’m scared.
That night, I stood there alone in the lot. It wasn’t too late for taxis, but I was too broke and admittedly more wasted than should have been allowed to find my own way home that night. I thought I saw a man in the street lamp on the corner. Of course, it flickered on and off like always. I wonder if it’s because old man Murray is too cheap to pay the city to fix it? He was a tall man, the kind you expect plays some b-ball in his free time. I planned to hit him up for some change, or a ride, something. I didn’t have a lot of dignity left, but I didn’t want to be caught sleeping in the gutter outside of Murray’s or on a park bench huddled under newspapers. I still had a little pride. Can’t tell by looking around, can you? Haven’t been out in weeks. The neighbors, they complain, even tacked a note on the door. I know its a note because it’s paper. I don’t know what it says. Too dark to read in here.
I like it that way.
He can’t get me that way.
The man melted under the street lamp, just great glops of him dropping onto the pavement with sounds I can’t unhear but can’t describe. Soul wrenching sounds that sobered me up in a damned hurry. I ran. No looking back, nothing, ran.
I haven’t been back.
A week later, I went to see Robby. The kids were out. We were going to try and work things out. He wanted to work things out and I wanted…well, I wanted my life back. The warm, sunny kitchen seemed perfect. We talked and talked. And talked. Then it rose out of his shadow, right off the ground like something that shouldn’t be. Robby clutched his chest as it slipped fingers around his neck. I stared. I was still staring when I realized he was dead. Then shadow man saw me.
