by Traci Briery
"You have to get ready, don't you? Um… jeez, come to think of it, I have to get ready, too."
"For what?"
"Work," Phyllis said. "I have breakfast and lunch shifts, remember?"
"Well—yeah, but—"
"I know how weird this all looks, but—I don't think I can talk about this right now. It's all too weird, even for me."
"But—"
"After work, okay?" Phyllis said, holding Roxanne by the shoulders and shaking her gently. "Okay?"
Roxanne's expression was blank all the while, and blank still when she spoke.
"Yeah," she said. "After work."
Roxanne was not up early to go to work, but to go jogging. In spite of the nigh-unbreathable air of Los Angeles, she still believed in exercising in it as often as possible. Phyllis stayed behind to get ready for work at the restaurant. She turned on the shower and shut the door, then let her robe fall to the floor. Out of habit she peered at her reflection to check for defects; thanks to the attack, she had had some to examine for some time. Until now. Phyllis blinked, then leaned closer to the mirror. She turned her face from side to side, then sucked her cheeks in.
Her doctor had told her that she would have scars. No matter how much they healed, they would be smaller, but would never disappear completely. Phyllis was hardly disappointed to find her doctor wrong, but was surprised, nevertheless. She checked again and again, but could find no trace of her scars anywhere. A smile of stunned, but genuine, joy crept across her face as she looked down enough to see that the rest of her was just as blemish-free. Or at least, it was as smooth as it had been before the attack. Phyllis caught herself giggling as she felt all over her body in disbelief, but now she couldn't be dreaming. Her scars were history.
Phyllis rushed from the bathroom before remembering that her roommate was gone, then went back inside to examine herself yet again. Still peeking occasionally at the mirror, she dragged herself into the shower. After the shower she resumed examining herself in happy disbelief, then put on her robe again and returned to her bedroom to find real clothes for the day. It was going to be a fantastic day now; that is, if the person now phoning her did not have bad news.
It was the health club's owner, and she was not her usual perky self.
"Were you at the club last night?" she asked.
"Um, yeah," Phyllis answered. "Oh… I left the door open when I left, didn't I? Oh, God, I'm—"
"Then that was your stuff we found?" Chris, the owner, asked.
"What stuff?"
"What happened here last night?" Chris asked. "Are you okay?"
"Am I okay?"
"Phyllis, somebody broke in last night," Chris said. "There was glass everywhere when we opened up, and a door was smashed to pieces. And you were here last night? Somebody's backpack was found, and I think this is your stuff. And your car is here. How did you get home?"
"My car?" Phyllis said. "Are you sure it's my car?"
"Believe me, I know your car," Chris said. "How did you get home?"
"Uh… uh, it's a long story."
"How soon can you get here?" Chris asked. "The police are here; they wanna talk to you."
"The cops? Why are cops there?"
"I called them about the break-in, why else?" Chris said.
"But why do they wanna talk to me?"
"Phyllis, please," Chris said. "Can you come to the club this morning? I told them that it looked like your stuff here, and that your car was here. No one's saying you did anything."
"But… um… I have to go to the restaurant this morning," Phyllis said. "To work, I mean. Is this going to take a long time?"
"I don't know," Chris said. "They just said they need to ask a few questions. How soon can you get here?"
"I dunno," Phyllis said. "Uhhhh, a half hour? Shit! No car. God, I don't know, Chris. Walking there might be faster than taking a bus, the way this place—
"Just get here," Chris said, and hung up. Phyllis hung up much more slowly. Chris wasn't angry with her, specifically, but she wasn't in a pleasant mood, either. There was still a phone call to make to the restaurant. The manager was flexible this time, and allowed her to switch to the lunch-dinner shift for the day. Phyllis then threw on her shoes and gulped down a big chunk of meat before returning it to the fridge.
Phyllis had to take a bus for the first time in years and arrived an hour and a half after the phone call. Chris had been right; she found her car still parked at the club. Confused, Phyllis peeked inside and found nothing missing. She couldn't remember why it would still be here, but she had no memory of actually driving it home, either. The real challenge now was to find the keys to the thing.
Some clean-up people were just finishing sweeping the last of the shattered windows when Phyllis arrived at the front. She peeked inside before stepping all the way in. There were at least two things she noticed right away. One was that the police had departed, and two was that it was business as usual. If there had been a crowd of Peeping Toms, they had long ago dispersed and gone back to their usual workout regimens.
Chris soon appeared from a doorway, wringing her hands. It took her a moment to notice Phyllis approaching her. She smiled briefly in greeting and gestured towards an old duffel bag.
"That's your stuff, right?" she asked. Phyllis knelt down to open it and pull out a few things. She nodded her head.
"Um… yeah," she said, slinging the bag over her shoulder.
"Did you see the door?" Chris asked.
"No way I could've missed that," Phyllis said. "What happened to it?"
"That's one of the things the cops were having trouble trying to figure out," Chris said. "By the way, they want you to go to their station and make a statement."
"A statement? About what?"
"Anything that you saw or heard last night," Chris said. "As a witness. Like I said, no one's… Come on," she said, putting a hand on Phyllis's shoulder. "We'll go to my office."
Together they made their way past the glistening, sweaty bodies of patrons who were oblivious to anything else but themselves. Phyllis wondered if they would have come to their workouts even if the place had been completely destroyed. Some of them probably would have, but then, Phyllis understood this sort of dedication. She might have done the same thing herself. After a time they reached Chris's office and entered. Chris shut the door behind her and gestured for Phyllis to sit down. She waited for Phyllis to settle in before falling into her own swivel seat and letting out a long, loud sigh.
"Ahhhh, what a morning," Chris groaned. "And to think I woke up in a good mood for the first time in weeks."
"I'm sorry, Chris," Phyllis said. "Seriously, I didn't do… whatever happened here."
"I believe you," Chris said.
"Thank God," Phyllis sighed. "I mean, do the cops think I did? Do they think I smashed up the door?"
"I don't know what they think," Chris said. "Except, they did point out something weird before we started cleaning up."
"What?"
"They said that most of the glass was outside the building instead of inside," Chris said. "And it was."
"Which means?"
"Which means that they think that someone broke out of here, not in."
"And they think it's me."
"Phyl, no one's accusing you of anything," Chris said. "But you have to look at things their way a minute. And mine. You were here last night, right?"
"Well… yeah…"
"Working out?"
"Yeah…" Phyllis said cautiously. "But you know that I do that."
"Then, did you see anything? Hear anything?"
"Like_ what?"
"You tell me," Chris said. "Anything. Footsteps, voices, anything like that."
Phyllis was silent in contemplation a moment before frowning and shaking her head.
"I don't know, Chris," she said. "I mean, I had the music on; I had the lights off. But that's the way I always work out."
"I didn't know you worked out with the lights off."
"It forces me to use my other senses besides seeing," Phyllis explained.
"Well, how do you keep from banging into the walls or tripping?"
"I know the room," Phyllis said. "Besides, it's not pitch black. Light comes from outside, usually. And last night was…" she said, but then drifted off. Chris was patient for only a moment.
"Was what?" Chris prompted.
"Hnh? Oh, um… last night was… wasn't real dark," Phyllis finished. "It was a full moon, wasn't it?"
"I don't know," Chris said. "Um, Phyl, I don't want to take too long with this. The cops were here, and there were crowds, and—'
"Just what is it you want from me, then?"
"I just want to know what you saw or heard last night, that's all," Chris said. "Anything. I don't care if it was the air conditioning; what happened here?"
Phyllis had had some time to work out what she was going to say. Telling the truth was ruled out immediately, because, in essence, there was no truth to tell. She couldn't tell her boss about some murky dream about running naked through the streets and climbing the hills of Hollywood. She could tell no one the truth until she had some idea herself of what it was.
"First of all, I didn't do it," Phyllis announced. "I know everything looks like I did, but I didn't."
"I believe you."
"Thank you," Phyllis said. "But the other thing is that I didn't hear anything. Or see anything, either. I—this was the first time since my accident that I've really been able to dance, and… and I tend to lose myself in my workouts. I made it to an hour, Chris! I wouldn't stop until I made it!"
"Are you sure you should be doing that?"
"I can't afford not to do this. Not anymore. My roommate can't pay for both our rent, and I gotta get work again."
"Well," Chris said, "well, good luck to you. And I mean that. But are you sure about this? About not seeing anything?"
"Seriously," Phyllis said. "I did my workout, and I was going to go straight home, but I kind of got… well, psyched up. I couldn't calm dawn, so I ended up taking a walk, and I guess I left my bag behind."
"Well, what's the deal? You never came back to get your car?"
"That's…" Phyllis said, shifting in her seat, "that's kind of embarrassing. You see, um… I ran into some old friends of mine while walking, and they asked me to go with them to this party, and… well, I kind of drank too much, and… either that, or someone spiked the stuff, because I was out. I woke up… woke up somewhere, so I ended up walking home. I completely forgot about my car. I know this makes me look like a complete idiot and a lush, but—"
"No, it's nothing like that," Chris said. "Whatever you do after work is whatever you do. I can believe your story, Phyl. But you better not be lying about something."
"But I'm not," she protested. "What do you think I'm lying about?"
Before speaking, Chris bent down to open a drawer in her desk.
" 'Lying' is probably the wrong word," she said, shutting the drawer and bringing up a handful of shredded rags. "I'm just wondering if you might be covering up something, that's all."
"What's all that?" Phyllis asked, picking at the rags.
"I found this by your bag," Chris said. "This is—well, was—a warm-up suit, right?"
Phyllis held up a piece to inspect it. She whistled once, then set it down and nodded her head. "I don't know, I guess so," she said. "This was by my stuff?"
"Yes."
Phyllis whistled again, then leaned back in her seat and shook her head. "I can't even tell what it was, let alone if it was mine," she said. "Maybe… maybe whoever broke out last night, tore this all up or something."
"Phyllis," Chris said, leaning back herself and locking her fingers together, "Please tell me, did somebody try to hurt you?"
Phyllis stared at her employer before looking away.
"Of course not," she muttered.
"You sure?"
"Of course I'm sure," she insisted. "Even a doctor could tell you that no one hurt me last night."
"What about tried to?"
"That didn't happen, either."
"Sorry. Um… insurance will deal with the damages, and we'll fix the door and… get better security, too, I suppose. I'll have to do something else, too."
"Hopefully not what I think," Phyllis said.
"I can't let you use the club after hours anymore," Chris said.
"So much for wishful thinking," Phyllis mumbled.
"You understand why, don't you?"
"Um, yeah," Phyllis said, reaching into her pocket to pull out her keys. She worked at removing the club key while speaking.
"I'm sorry, Phyllis," Chris said.
"No, it's okay," Phyllis said. "Really, it is. I know I was—well, that you were being especially nice to me. Um…" she said, removing the key now and handing it to Chris, "I… hope this doesn't mean something else, too."
"What's that?" Chris asked, dropping the key into an envelope.
"Well, that I'm… not allowed to teach anymore, either," Phyllis mumbled.
"You mean that you're fired?" Chris asked. "Of course not; there's no reason for that. You're a good teacher, Phyllis. We were all very worried about you when you were hurt, and we're even happier that you can work for us again."
"Thanks," Phyllis said, shifting uncomfortably. "By the way, thanks again for the great cards. And the flowers. You didn't have to, you know."
"That's all right," Chris said, holding up her hand.
"I'm just glad that you can still teach for us and… well, that nothing happened to you last night, either. That's part of why I took the key back. I started thinking, what if you hadn't left here in time last night? No, I can't think of that… I'm sorry, Phyllis."
"You're apologizing to me?"
"This whole business has about fried my brain," Chris said. "What time is it?" She glanced at her watch. "My God, is it only nine?" she said. "Maybe I should take a lunch, anyway. Ohhhhh…"
Chris shut her eyes and let herself sink into her chair. After some silence, Phyllis rose from her seat and went over to Chris. She put her hand on Chris's shoulder, and Chris opened her eyes as Phyllis dropped to one knee and made to wrap her arms around her. Chris accepted the hug but made certain that it was brief.
"Well," Chris said to Phyllis, "I guess this is as settled as it's going to be today. Oh, hell. There's still the insurance to call. Um, Phyllis? Thank you for coming."
"No problem."
"If the truth be told, I called you here to make sure that you really were okay," Chris said.
"Oh, that's sweet," Phyllis said.
"Yes, well," Chris said, turning pink, "thank you again for coming. I still have so much to do though, so, uh…"
Phyllis's eyes lit up.
"Oh!" she said. "Right. I thought you were going to lunch, though."
"I have too much to do, and now that my brain is working again…" Chris grumbled. She was still muttering to herself as Phyllis shut the door quietly. Phyllis leaned against the door and let out her breath quickly before pushing through a crowd of employees. Most of them tried to stop her for more interrogation, but she deflected their questions with the near-skill of a celebrity. Another saving grace was that her car keys were still inside the duffel bag. She could escape on wheels instead of by foot.
Phyllis contemplated going to the police station, but she was in too much danger of being late to the restaurant. In fact, she made it there with one minute to spare, and buried herself in work the rest of the day.
Chapter Eleven
It was late, and Roxanne was elsewhere, but she had left the morning paper on the breakfast table. As usual, only the front page and entertainment section had been touched. Phyllis read the entertainment and funnies sections religiously, and touched nothing else, but this time, she spotted a small article hi the local news section. The headline read "PILEUP BLAMED ON BEAST." Phyllis snatched up the page and read with charged interest. According to the story, witnesses blamed a wild animal for
plowing through a crowded section of Hollywood, scaring dozens of people half to death and causing a major car pile-up. Amazingly enough, no one said if the animal had directly attacked anyone, nor were there any fatalities from the accidents. One person described the animal as a "big ape-guy, like a Bigfoot or something." Another disagreed, insisting that it had been "the Big, Bad Wolf."
Phyllis stared at the article until its words became gibberish to her. She tossed the paper and overshot the counter, but she did not care to go over and retrieve the paper from the floor. She'd gotten away with an awful lot of lies throughout the entire morning, but what was she to do? As far as Phyllis was concerned, everything that had happened had been a marvelous dream until all those facts started popping up. She knew she couldn't have smashed a heavy wooden door, but she couldn't prove to herself that she hadn't, either.
Phyllis tried to piece together her soupy memories of last night, but made little progress. She couldn't get farther than working out at the club before waking up in the Hollywood Hills. Everything else in between was murky at best.
She caught herself staring into space, then snapped to attention and decided to get out of the apartment. She grabbed a coat from the closet and was almost out the door, then remembered to at least leave a note behind for Roxanne. Most likely Roxanne was with Linda, meaning mat it was even money that she could be home that night or not at all.
Night had come, and the moon would reach its peak no more than an hour from then. Phyllis felt a wave of warmth come over her, but it passed as she climbed into her car and gunned the motor. Almost instinctively she twisted her rear-view mirror to inspect her face, but not necessarily to look for normal blemishes.
She used to walk along the beach a lot when she first arrived in Los Angeles, but that had been a long time ago, or so it seemed. Perhaps this was what had caused her to drive here now. A difference was that she used to come here to relax and escape her troubles, but now it was just to escape. Escape what? Even Phyllis could not explain the sense of panic that pushed her on. She knew that there was such a thing as a panic attack, where one is assaulted with an abrupt, intense feeling of terror for no reason, but until now, she had been immune to this phenomenon. The terror was not helped by the lack of parking spaces. She was ready to smash a few cars out of the way and make her own before a legitimate one was finally located.