by Susan Lee
She had been a geek all her life but it wasn't until she discovered these crazy conventions that she finally found a home. Everyone here was odd, everyone here had their own weirdness. Hers was just one version of many.
She also learned that having her own comic book series put her in a elite group of these weirdoes and she had earned a lot of respect from her peers. She was looking forward to the day when she could leave building websites behind and only focus on her comics.
She was secretly happy that Rick would see her in this environment. Her artist booth was usually fairly busy during cons so she thought that would make a great impression if he came when all dozen of her adoring fans were hovering nearby.
Her booth was filled with not only art from her comic book but also lots of her original art, including a batch of beautiful pin-up girls and some designs inspired by American Traditional tattoo designs. Her new work was moving toward trash punk but she was still experimenting with that.
She had discouraged Patty from spiffing her up too much for the convention but, in the end, she was secretly glad she had allowed her to go through her closet. She did feel good with this new styling and with what Patty had put together, even though it was just basically a button down, her usual steampunk vest and jeans. But Patty had added a few accessories and, viola, she was Mickey 2.0.
Her confidence was high and having Patty in the booth with her helped as well. Her booth seemed to be particularly busy as people lined up for commissions and to ask her to sign her work.
Patty was a great help in making sure everyone was taken care of. Mickey was so engrossed with what she was doing that she didn't notice Rick's arrival.
He stood a few booths away, a bit stunned to see how busy her booth was. He knew she had a comic book but he never imagined she was actually successful with it. Not in a bad way, he just hadn't seen much of the confident, secure woman she was today, sitting in her element. He was impressed and a little intimidated, so he hung back, trying to get his bearings.
Patty, however, noticed him but kept it to herself. She liked the fact that he seemed off-balance and she wanted him to see Mickey at her best. So she kept doing what she was doing, keeping one eye on him.
"So if you come back on Sunday," Mickey told the woman who had just commissioned her to draw a Batman cover, "I'll have it done for you." The woman thanked her and left. In her place stood Rick.
"I like girl in the corset," he said earnestly. It took Mickey a moment to realize that it was him, not just another fan.
"Th-thanks," she stuttered. "It's part of the set of three. The corset, the windy skirt and the girl on the phone."
"That's Bette Page in the one on the phone, right?"
This caught her by surprise. He always seemed to need no explanation of her inspiration and she liked that a lot. "Yes, it is. I love her and use her photographs a lot as my inspiration."
"That's good inspiration," he joked.
"I have a bunch of books filled with pin-up photos I use."
"I'd love to see those some time."
Again, startled. "Are you asking to see my etchings?" Mickey was more startled that she found a flirt buried deep inside of her. What the hell was she doing?!, screamed the clowns, whom she immediately threw in a balloon and sent to the sky.
"Right now, I'm asking you to grab a hot dog," he teased back, enjoying the game.
Patty tried to be inconspicuous, a difficult thing to do in the small six foot by six foot booth. She wanted the two of them to play as long as they wanted to play.
"Um, Patty," Mickey began but then she saw the smile on Patty's face. "I'll be back in a bit. Text me if you need me."
"Bring me back a dog with everything," Patty threw at their backs as they left. She couldn't help but smile. It was time for Mickey to have some fun and she was glad she could help her achieve that.
Mickey tried to hide her excitement as they made their way to the concession area in the convention center. Rick was chatting with her about what they saw on the way and she answered back appropriately, though she was trying to control her emotions as they went. It helped that she passed several of her more successful peers along the way, who stopped her to chat. She was delighted she could introduce Rick to some of his favorite writers and artists, seeing how really impressed with who she knew.
As they walked, she suddenly realized that this was really what she had wanted but now that the moment was here, she was kind of terrified.
She hadn't dated a lot before she spent five years with THAT MAN. He had come to her, so it seemed easy. Now she had to get back into the swing of things, but she wasn't sure she was even ready to do this.
Stop it, she warned herself. This is only a hot dog. Don't buy the wedding dress yet.
"Sorry there isn't something fancier to offer," Rick joked as he paid for their lavish meal of hot dogs, chips and sodas.
"You kidding?" she threw back. "This is the best of the best here. Prime dog, fancy organic chips, and name brand soda. What more could a girl want?"
They laughed easily as they fought for chairs at a nearby table. Six others occupied the other chairs but they managed to forget there was anybody else. There was a brief moment or two of awkward as they both tried to figure out how to talk now that they were outside of the purview of websites and clients. But once the talk turned to the art and kitsch around them, conversation flowed easily and quickly.
She was delighted to find they shared a love for the same art styles, similar comic books, similar movies. He shared her love for action flicks and for deeply moving stories as well as her distaste for all things "Twilight" and "50 Shades of Grey" related. There were enough differences that things would be interesting, enough similarities to make things easy.
"I should get you back," he said too soon. But he was right. They had been gone for more than an hour and she knew that she should get back. Patty would take care of things but she didn't want to leave her there too long.
"Guess so," she agreed, wishing she could have another hour... or two... or twelve.
This felt good. This felt real. This felt honest. He held out his hand to help her out of her seat. She liked the way his hand felt in hers. She liked how gracious he was. She liked how long it took him to let go of her hand. Damn, she liked him.
He exchanged pleasantries with Patty when he delivered Mickey back to her booth. They small-talked a moment longer before Mickey had to give her attention to people beginning to line up for her.
"Thanks for lunch," she said, meaning it.
"Least I could do. You here all day?"
"Yup. The life of an artist."
"Maybe I'll stop by before I go, say good-bye." There was that smile she had begun to like.
"That would be nice."
She watched a long time as he disappeared into the crowd, her gaze lingering after he had gone.
"Guess the hot dog was good," Patty teased.
"It was." Patty chose to ignore the fact that Mickey forgot to bring her a dog back, excited that her friend couldn't stop smiling and looked happier than she had in a very long time. It took a few minutes but Mickey was finally able to turn her attention back to her fans.
• • • • • • • • • • •
The end of the day came and went with no reappearance of Rick. Mickey tried to manage her disappointment. Even Patty helped out.
"He probably ran into friends," Patty tried to explain. "He doesn't have your phone number, something you forgot to give him. How do you expect him to reach you when he doesn't know how to reach you?"
"He didn't say he would come back," Mickey made as an excuse. "He said he would try. Not that he would."
"Don't do that," Patty chided. "Don't make excuses. That's how you get in trouble."
"You're right," Mickey agreed, taking a deep breath and letting her anxiety go a little bit.
"Next time you see him, give him your number so you don't have these questions."
"Yes, ma'am," Mickey responde
d, trying to keep her spirits up. The two had just about finished putting things away for the night. Mickey would be back the next day so they didn't need to pack everything, just secure it all. Though still in control of her emotions, Mickey suddenly wanted to be alone so she could process the day. Since her breakdown, it took longer for her to assimilate things and make sense of feelings. Jerry had assured her that it was okay, that it was the process she had to go through. She needed some time right now.
"Why don't you take off?" she suggested to Patty. "We're almost done. I can do the rest."
"You sure?" Patty didn't want to leave until she knew Mickey was okay.
"I'm fine. I just need some time."
Patty studied her friend for a moment but saw that she was steady and okay. "All right. Call me later and let me know you got home."
"Yes, Mom," Mickey laughed, though she was grateful for the concern. "I'll be fine." Once Patty was gone, it only took Mickey a few minutes to finish up. She chatted with the artists around here as she walked out, a few who had become friends through these conventions. A bunch of them were going for drinks. But tonight, Mickey didn't feel like small talk.
She knew she needed to get to her car, get by herself, and just give herself some time to go over the day. She finally began to smile because, even though Rick hadn't come back by, she had enjoyed spending time with him and was uncharacteristically optimistic that she would see him again soon.
Mickey practically skipped as she headed to the roof for her car. She had parked on the roof because she knew convention parking was shit and the roof was the smartest place to go. No one wanted to drive all the way to the top and she usually had an easy exit when she decided to leave. Tonight was no different. Only a few cars dotted the area, mostly belonging to other vendors like herself.
She was at her car door when she heard the footfall. Figuring it was someone parked nearby, she turned, expecting to see someone she knew. For a brief second, she imagined it was Rick.
Instead, she only saw a shadow looming over her, thrown into stark relief by the light behind it. There was no discernible shape other than vaguely male as one appendage reaching up into the sky, clutching a knife-shaped thing in its blurry hand.
She only had time to process that it looked surprisingly like something out of her own comic book when the hand fell and she felt horrible pain in her left shoulder as the world tilted sideways.
A scream tried to escape but couldn't. She felt the shadow tug at her, slipping her messenger bag over her head and out of her reach. He'll be disappointed, she thought blearily, because my money is in my hip bag under my jacket. She didn't think that was information she wanted to give him in that moment.
The shadow took a step back but stopped suddenly. As her consciousness threatened to leave her, Mickey saw another shadow join the first. Oh, god, she thought shakily, there are two of them.
But the second shadow seemed to take on the shape of a bat, pointy ear-like projections wavering in the light. She tried to focus but the pain was overwhelming her other senses.
She blinked and saw the bat-shadow hit the first shadow several times. Maybe a cape swirled in the light. The first shadow turned tail and ran. Her hero shadow leaned over her, a hand pressing the wound on her shoulder. In the last second before she lost her battle to stay awake, the figure leaned into the light and she saw a face. The face she wanted to save her. The face of her hero.
• • • • • • • • • • •
The first thing Mickey saw when she woke up was tile. Ceiling tile. Hospital ceiling tile. She would know that tile anywhere.
Briefly, she panicked, trying to remember what she had done the night before that would have landed her on her back, staring at fucking hospital ceiling tile. Then Patty leaned into her sightline, fear furrowing her brow.
"Mick?" Patty prodded carefully. "Mickey? Can you hear me?"
Mickey searched her memory but could only remember pain. Had she hurt herself again? She hoped not because she knew she had been doing so well. What the hell had happened to land her here?
Some strange old man leaned into her line of vision. It took her a moment to identify him as a doctor. He flashed a light into her eyes, blinding her and bathing her head in horrible pain.
"What the hell?" she yelled, trying to raise her arm to cover her eyes but finding that she couldn't. Oh, god, not restraints, she thought. I hate restraints. I'll have to promise to be good so they'll let me out of them.
Then she felt the pain.
The parking lot. The light. The shadow. The shadows. The pain. The rescue. She had been hurt, not hurt herself. That was a relief, however brief. She wasn't restrained. The only restraint was her injury. She could barely move her left arm without exquisite pain. Even her head pounded with the rhythm of her heart, making it hard to focus.
She felt Patty take her right hand and didn't fight it. "You okay?"
Mickey couldn't find words yet so she just nodded. She hated the sudden feeling of helplessness that swam over her. She didn't want to let the feelings surface yet, not in front of everybody. That would surely lead to actual restraints.
She swallowed, knowing she had to find words to prevent a 5150 or something that would lock her down.
"I'm okay," she squeaked out through parched lips. "Really."
Patty squeezed her hand again, getting a cup of water to Mickey's lips. She sipped a little, grateful for the cold as it went down.
"The police are here," Patty whispered as the doctor left the room. "They want to talk to you when you're able to talk." Mickey nodded an acknowledgement. "I knew I should have stayed with you." Patty's voice was colored with tears. "I should have never left you there alone."
Mickey struggled to sit up. Patty gently pushed her back down on the bed as she cranked the bed into a more comfortable position. "It's not your fault, Patty," Mickey managed to choke out. "You couldn't know."
"You were just getting better," Patty said softly.
"I will be fine." She knew she was lying. Maybe Patty knew that a little bit, too.
"Do you want to talk to the police?"
Mickey didn't want to talk to anyone. She needed some time to sort out the plethora of images flashing through her memory, to figure out what was real and what was her own mind.
"How bad is it?" Mickey asked, struggling to get comfortable.
"Doctor says nothing major was hit," Patty explained. "Some muscle damage but that should heal. In time."
"My left arm," Mickey sighed as she struggled to move it.
"Your left arm."
"I can't draw."
"You will draw again," Patty assured her, forcing Mickey to look at her. "You will. There's no question. It'll just take some time." Patty wanted to circumvent any despair before it had time to take hold. "I'll make sure you can."
Mickey pulled her friend close with her right hand. Their tears flowed together, letting them both feel for a few moments. That moment was interrupted by Officer Tennant.
"Ms. Lenz?" he asked softly as he noticed that he was interrupting. Patty moved back to her chair as Mickey shifted into a more comfortable position yet again.
Tennant, Mickey thought as the officer pulled up a chair. Tennant. David Tennant. Tenth Doctor. Doctor Who. Who is this guy? And then the clowns took off from there. They made so much noise it was hard for her to focus on what the officer was asking her.
"I'm sorry, what?" Mickey asked as she realized she had missed most of what the officer was saying.
"I asked if you remembered seeing anybody near your car last night," Officer Tennant repeated.
He doesn't look like David Tennant, she thought. Too fat, too black, too not British. Focus! she screamed internally. She shook her head hard, trying to shake loose the noise. Patty noticed this and took her hand. This helped calm her down.
"I didn't notice anything," she said softly.
"Can you take me through what happened?"
Mickey took a deep breath, not wanting
to remember. "I'll try," she began. "I finished at the convention. Packed up my bag. Said good night to some friends."
"Why did you park on the roof?"
Anger welled in her suddenly. "Are you gonna say this is my fault?" she snapped.
"Not at all," Officer Tennant assured her calmly. "Just trying to get all the facts straight."
"Okay." She took a breath. "I park on the roof because convention parking sucks and I always find parking on the roof. I walked to the car. There was nobody around. I, uh, I didn't see anything. I heard a footstep. Um, a footstep behind me. I thought maybe it was..."
Rick. Could she say Rick? Would that get him in trouble? And why did Rick seem to fit into this anyway? "I thought maybe it was one of the other artists, leaving after me. I didn't see anybody. Just heard the footstep." She closed her eyes, not wanting to see, not wanting to remember. Officer Tennant waited patiently while she hesitated. "I, uh, I think I turned to see who it was." She stopped again.
"What did you see?" the officer nudged gently. He knew this was hard, he knew he had to tread carefully.
"I, uh." What did she see? Images slammed together in her mind. Shadows, shapes, things blending together. "There was... there was a... a shape. A shadow. I couldn't see who it was." Shadows, shapes, things blending together.
"Was it tall or short?"
"It was..." Tall? Short? How can you tell with a shadow? "Taller than me," was all she could manage.
"Okay," he assured her. "That's good. That helps. Can you tell me anything more?"
She looked to Patty, wanting to end this. Wanting to just go to sleep for a while. Or forever.
Her shoulder was screaming and her head swimming. She wasn't sure if it was the pain or the medication in the IV feeding into her arm. "How did I get here?"
"You don't remember?" the officer queried, frowning a bit at that.
"Not really." But something hovered around the edges of her memory. Another shadow. Another footstep. Another...something. "Was there... did someone call an ambulance?" She noticed the officer lean forward, his interest suddenly piqued.
