He swatted me playfully with his napkin. “No. I get it. Yes, if you must know. By that definition, we get along well.”
“That’s it? That’s all I get? I basically tell you I’m disabled, which you apparently judge me for, and you tell me you get along with your brothers? Hardly seems fair.”
He threw up his hands. “Fine. I have a big, hairy mole on my ass.”
I burst out laughing.
“I see how it is. Now you’re laughing at my imperfection!”
I shook my head, eating another bite of food, surprised to realize I was actually enjoying myself.
“Your turn. Tell me something about your family.”
I rolled my eyes. “There isn’t much to tell. My parents were killed in a car accident when I was a baby. My aunt raised me, reluctantly. Now that I’m on my own, we don’t see each other.” I looked down into my dwindling plate of food, deliberately avoiding eye contact. Whenever people found out about my family, they always felt “horrible,” “terrible,” or “so sorry” and it made me uncomfortable.
He frowned. “That’s kind of terrible.”
I shrugged. “Everyone’s got some kind of tragedy in their life. I was just lucky that I was young enough not to remember mine.”
Just then, the waitress dropped the check on the table.
“Whew,” I said. “Right on cue. This conversation was in a downward spiral.”
“That’s your opinion,” he said as he pulled out his wallet.
I reached for my purse to throw something in, but he held out his hand. “I’ll get it. It’s a date, remember?”
“Yes, well, that doesn’t always mean the guy pays.”
“Chivalry is not dead!” he insisted.
“We’ll see,” I said, and he put on a wounded expression as he threw down some cash.
He smiled, a little softer than I’d seen before. “Well, whaddya say? Wanna go someplace a little quieter?”
I hesitated. If we did that, it would be the perfect opportunity for me to take out the iLs to see what his intentions were, but why ruin a fun evening? On the other hand, why go out with him again if he was secretly a loser or a pervert?
Sensing my hesitation, he said, “I promise, we’ll just walk and talk.”
I tipped my head. “Well, we’ve already shared such personal things with each other. What more is there to say?”
“Uh oh. I overshared on the first date, didn’t I? Broke the first rule of dating according to Cosmo magazine.” He shook his head in mock shame.
Smiling, I relented, against my better judgment. “I’m game. Where do you want to go?”
“Myers Park is just across the road if you want to walk a little.”
“Sounds perfect.”
There was no real sexy or graceful way to take out my iLs and put it away. We were a few paces into our walk before I felt assured there weren’t too many people around.
He smiled. “So this is an okay spot for you to talk without that thing on?”
“I guess so.” I squirreled my iLs into my purse and braced myself for whatever Ken might be thinking. Surprisingly, I found nothing. It never ceased to amaze me how often men were being truthful when they answered ‘nothing’ to the question ‘What are you thinking about?’
But it wasn’t long before he let me know what his intentions were. We rounded a corner, revealing a secluded, grassy area behind some trees and bushes.
Perfect. I probably won’t even have to do any work. She’s been throwing herself at me all night. I bet she’s not even wearing underwear, the slut.
I thought about letting it go. Pretending I didn’t hear his thoughts. I thought about telling him the food wasn’t sitting right or making another excuse. I could have just continued to walk with him without letting him steer me toward that grassy knoll. But something about what he thought struck a nerve, and I didn’t do any of those things.
“Excuse me?” I said.
He seemed startled by the volume of my voice and my tone, which to be fair, had changed pretty dramatically. “What?”
“So, you think I’m a slut?”
“What?” He acted horrified. “I never said that!” What the hell? This bitch is turning on the crazy a little early. She better be worth it.
“And what exactly would make me worth it?”
“I…” He paused. Then his face changed. Confusion was replaced with anger, and he closed the space between us, forcing me up against the bushes that lined the path. “Listen, you little cunt. You’ve been parading that sweet ass under my nose all night, and I intend to get what I came here for.” He grabbed my wrist, but I already had my other hand in my purse, feeling for my mace. This date was rapidly climbing to the top of my ten-worst-dates-ever list.
“Is there a problem here?”
The voice belonged to a man who was standing directly behind Ken. He was slightly taller and stockier. With closely cropped blond hair and cargo pants, he looked like he’d spent time in the military.
The same goose bumps I’d felt on my way to the café the night I met Ken spread across my skin. Were they from Ken, or the new guy?
I didn’t have time to decide because Ken turned, concealing my wrist behind him, squeezing it harder. I continued to dig for my mace while he answered, “No. No problem here. Have a nice night.”
I eyed the newcomer, wondering what he would do. Why can’t I hear him? I could tell he was thinking something, maybe weighing his options, but I couldn’t read anything. It freaked me out more than my date did. Him, I could deal with. This had never happened before. Never.
“Who are you?” I blurted out.
Ken glared at me.
“My name’s Mitchell. I was just passing by when I heard some rustling. I wanted to make sure you were doing okay.” His voice was deep and masculine, but not threatening. I eyed Ken, wondering how he would react.
“Pleasure to meet you, Mitchell.” Ken flashed one of those charming smiles he used on me.
Does that really work on other guys?
Mitchell raised his eyebrow.
Apparently not, I thought.
“You know, to be honest, I’m not feeling all that well. I think I’m going to head back,” I said. “Mitchell, would you mind walking me to my car at the Genghis Grill?” A daring move, since I couldn’t read the guy at all. There was a possibility I was trading one would-be rapist for another, but I’d finally found my mace in my purse, so I was prepared for the worst.
“Sure. No problem,” he said.
I turned to Ken. “I’d like to say it was a pleasant evening, but you kind of ruined it. Have a nice life.” I tried to wrench my wrist free of his grip, but he yanked me back.
“You think you can humiliate me and leave me in the lurch just because this asshole walked up?”
Mitchell put his hand on Ken’s shoulder, but I already had my mace out and discharged before either of the men could do anything. In moments, Ken was on the ground. The colorful string of expletives that spewed from his crumpled frame was extremely satisfying, and I was tempted to stand there and listen to him suffer.
“I bet you regret calling me a cunt now, don’t you?” I said to his moaning form on the grass.
Mitchell put his hand on my elbow and I recoiled, not wanting to be touched by a man this soon after my horrible experience. “Sorry,” he said. “But we should go. Unless you want me to call the police or something.”
“No, it’s okay. Let’s leave.”
We walked back the way Ken and I had come, and before long, I was out of earshot of him, hopefully for good. Blessed silence descended on me, but I only reveled in it for a few moments.
Why can’t I hear this guy?
Before I could formulate any kind of intelligent question that wouldn’t make me sound crazy—So, I’m a mind reader and I can’t read you. Why is that?—we were back at the restaurant. I stopped walking when we reached my car.
“Well, you take care,” he said, hands jammed in his pockets.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m just happy I was able to help.” He rocked on his heels a little and avoided eye contact. I could tell he was uncomfortable just from his body language, but I didn’t know why.
“Okay, well, see you around.”
“Yup.”
I hesitated for one more moment. I wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass me by, was I?
“You better leave before your gentleman caller gets any more bright ideas.”
I frowned. He wasn’t giving me much of a choice. And what’s more, he had a point. “Okay, well, thanks again.”
“Any time.” I got into the car, and he shut the door behind me as I fastened my seat belt. I paused before I turned over the engine, but he nodded at me, as if to encourage me to get the hell out of his life as quickly as possible.
I backed out of the spot and left Ken, the Genghis Grill, and the mystery man, Mitchell, behind me.
It only took five minutes to get back to my apartment, but I drove around the block a little, just in case Ken was somehow following me. I wondered if it had been stupid of me not to call the cops on that slimeball.
By the time I got back at a little after nine, the shock had worn off and I was boiling inside. How dare he? I thought as I threw my purse on the couch. It landed softly and bounced. Not satisfying at all. I flounced down next to it and kicked off my shoes, shoes that I had worn to try to impress that sorry excuse for a man.
I grabbed my purse and dug out my cell phone to text Maddie. I’m already home, I wrote. That’s how good it went.
My phone rang almost immediately, and I didn’t even say hello when I picked up the call.
“Are you okay?” Maddie asked.
“No, not really.”
“Why, what happened?”
“He tried to rape me.”
“What?” She yelled it so loud I nearly dropped the phone.
I heard her new boyfriend ask, “What’s wrong?” in the background.
“Mac’s date tried to rape her.” When he asked if I was okay, she said, “I don’t know. I’m finding out. Well, are you?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you’re doing better than I would be, because that’s just how you are.”
“How would you be doing, Maddie?”
“Well, for starters, if some guy had his mind set on raping me, he probably would’ve been successful. But you on the other hand, I’m sure you fought your way out of it. Get in any good shots to his crotch?”
“No, but I maced him pretty good.”
“Why don’t you start at the beginning?”
So I did. Starting with how nice dinner was and how well everything was going until we got to the park and Ken tried to force himself on me. I left out the part where I confronted him about what he was thinking, wrapping it up with Mitchell coming to the rescue.
“Sounds like you didn’t really need Mitchell in the end.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But he did make me feel better on the walk back to my car.” I paused. “To be honest, I’m not sure if I’m more upset about Ken or about Mitchell.”
“What do you mean?”
“I just let him go.”
“Who? Ken? Are you mad you didn’t call the police? Because you still can, you know.”
I tried to collect my jumbled thoughts. “Mitchell.”
“Yeah, you’ll need to be more specific than that.”
“He was different. I couldn’t read him.” Well, that was honest at least.
“Are you talking about your Spidey senses?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, he walked up like he was some kind of knight in shining armor, then when we were alone, he wouldn’t even make eye contact with me. He acted like he didn’t want to be near me. I kept trying to start a conversation, you know, to find out more about him, but he put me off every time.”
“Do you think your probing might have scared him off?”
I paced around the living room and threw the hand that wasn’t holding the phone in the air. “I don’t know, and it’s driving me crazy.”
“You’re acting like you’ve never been stumped by someone’s actions before.”
I stopped walking. This was one of those defining moments. In truth, I hadn’t ever been stumped by someone else’s actions. When you could read someone’s mind, you could kind of predict what they were going to do. But Maddie didn’t know about that, so what was I supposed to say to her?
“I’m usually better at reading people, that’s all.”
“Well, you’d just been attacked! You were off your game! I’m sure that’s all it is.”
“And now I’ll never know.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’m never going to see Mitchell again, so I’ll never find out what his deal was.”
She chuckled quietly, which meant she thought I was being foolish. “Mac, even if you did see him again, you probably wouldn’t find out. Maybe he was just interested in getting out of there before Ken came back to the restaurant and decided to start a fight. Maybe you splashed a little mace on him and he was antsy to wash it off. Maybe he was late for his own date, and he didn’t want her to see you. Maybe you smelled, and he wanted to get away.”
“Maddie!” I laughed.
“Well, you don’t know. A million different factors might have motivated his behavior. The fact that you couldn’t identify each of them doesn’t equate a failure on your part.”
But it does, I thought. For the first time in our relationship, Maddie wasn’t making me feel better.
“Listen, I can tell I’m not helping, so let me change my tactic. I’m glad you aren’t hurt. Also, I’m glad that scumbag doesn’t have your phone number or your home address… wait, he doesn’t, right?”
“No.”
“Good. And in spite of the horrible circumstances, I’m glad you met a guy who shook you up a little. Good to know it’s possible, at least!”
“I guess.” She was right. I was glad I wasn’t hurt, and I would never have to see Ken again. And hey, I had a lot to look forward to—being done with my thesis, seeing Maddie this week, and graduation.
“You know what?” I said. “I think I should just stay away from men for a while. Maybe forever.”
She laughed. “You can’t! You’re coming to meet Bobby in like five days!”
“I promise I won’t try to attack you!” he called out in the background.
I smiled. He was a good sport, letting her talk on the phone this long during their date. “Well, he doesn’t count.”
“And why not?” She feigned indignity. “He’s as much man as anyone.”
I heard a slap, Maddie giggled, and her boyfriend said, “Don’t you forget it!”
“Ugh, you guys are getting gross. Get it out of your system before I get there, but after I get off the phone.”
“Duly noted.”
“All right. I guess I’ll let you get back to it. Have a better evening than I did!”
“Oh, we are.”
It was my turn to laugh. “I can tell.”
Her tone turned serious. “Really, though, I’m sorry your evening was such a crash and burn. If nothing else, I was hoping you could blow off some steam. You’ve been so stressed about your thesis, and I wanted this to be a fun night out for you.”
“Me too.” I sighed. “At least it was interesting, I guess.”
“Well, I promise we’ll have fun when you get here.” She paused. “Hey Mac?”
“Hey Maddie.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.” In spite of everything, I hung up with a smile, like I always did. My best friend couldn’t read minds, but she had a special magic all her own.
5.
My thesis was due on Wednesday, and the very nature of time seemed to change in the days leading up to that date. Some moments crawled, like when I spent an hour staring at the blinking cursor
on my computer screen. Others flew, particularly when I started to get stressed about how little time I had before my fate was out of my hands entirely. In some of my lower moments, I thought about how much easier it would be if I could control minds in addition to reading them. But that was lazy and unrealistic at best, and devious and borderline evil at worst.
So I marched dutifully to my Thesis Defense on Wednesday, hoping for the best.
I walked into the appointed conference room, where I met Professor Peterson and—by coincidence, I was sure—the other three professors who had attended my original audition for the FSU College of Music. The room itself was relatively small, and it had already been set up for my presentation with a projector, screen, and some speakers. I only had about fifteen minutes to plead my case, and then they would have up to forty-five minutes to question me on my life choices. I swallowed hard, not looking forward to the next hour.
Nodding to all four professors, I tried to lighten the mood. “Just like old times, huh?” I pointed to my iLs, which was securely in place, playing Gaspard de la Nuit.
They all nodded and smiled. One of the men, who I now knew as Professor Brown, said, “Yes, and you set the bar pretty high with that audition, Ms. Day.”
“Heh. Yeah.” Oh, good, knock them out with an intelligent response, why don’t you?
“Well, we’re all looking forward to this,” Professor Peterson said, giving me her reassuring smile.
“Okay. Let’s begin.” I hit play on my computer and immediately bombarded the professors with overwhelmingly loud noises—bombs exploding, fireworks, jack hammers, dogs barking, kids screaming, the list went on. I proceeded to begin my speech, knowing none of them could hear me.
Professor Brown—the one who’d been convinced I was cheating during my audition—raised his hand as his face twisted into a grimace that gave me way too much pleasure. I paused the background sounds. “Yes, Professor Brown?”
“We can’t hear you at all.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“This is what it’s like for someone who can’t focus. Someone who is bombarded with too much stimuli all day, every day. Someone with Sensory Processing Disorder. Someone like me.”
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