Scareship_Issue8

Jesus, he looked so lonely. The way he’d stared at her. Not
scary, but... lonely. That’s why he matters to her. And unless Jen is
crazy too, he is real.
Jesus, she saw him too. He was there. He’s real.
Ten hours later, dazed with fractured sleep and caffeine, Cheri
sits in the reception area of Tommy’s office and waits for his boss
to... do what? Throw her out for being a nut job? Hand her over to
the cops—for leaving a voice-mail? And why had the woman
sounded so anxious when she had called Cheri? And why were
they... how did the woman put it? “Monitoring his voice mails.”
For all the gruffness of her voice, Mrs. Jackson turns out to be
a warm woman, middle-aged, black and plump. “We’ve been very
concerned about Tommy,” she says, once they are seated in her
office (Cheri declines the offer of coffee or tea). Do you know
him?”
“Not really.”
The woman leans back in her chair. “You sounded...
concerned.”
“I saw him. The other night, in a bar. I work there.” This is
madness, she shouldn’t have come, shouldn’t have even called.
“He looked... upset. He seemed very troubled. And he left so
quickly.” You can’t leave more quickly than disappearing. “I
wanted to be sure he was OK.”
“How did you get his work number?”
“He left a business card.” The lie comes out before she can
consider it, but Mrs. Jackson accepts it without question.
“You said he looked... troubled. Could you describe how he
behaved?”
“He didn’t really do anything, or act in any particular way,
that I noticed.” Not there long enough to do that. “He just
seemed....” Mrs. Jackson nods and smiles, but does not reply and
Cheri blurts forth, “He just seemed lonely.”
“Lonely.” The woman seems suspicious.
“Terribly lonely. It was just... an impression I got.”
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