The Stalked Girl

by Evan Ronan

  “Looks good, Lucy. You’ll be ready.”

  Before I can get up to leave, she suddenly hugs me. I hug her back and hold on for a moment.

  “Please don’t tell anybody,” she whispers. “Daddy won’t understand. About either thing.”

  “What about your mom?” I say. “You can try her.”

  She lets go of me, but I don’t leave.

  “I know your mom. She’ll understand. And they both love you. Fiercely.”

  She smiles but it’s the saddest thing I’ve ever seen.

  ***

  I’m supposed to call Denise back but, holy Hell, I don’t have the energy for it today. I drive around for a little bit, just killing time, then head to my ex-wife’s house just before six o’clock. There’s a cool breeze rippling through the trees, and it feels like spring’s last withering punch before summer takes over.

  Tammy is waiting for me at the door. She pushes it open.

  “OHMYGOD, DAD! WHAT HAPPENED?”

  “It looks worse than it is.” Which is a lie.

  “Were you in a fight? Again?”

  Yikes, does she sound like her mother right now. I figure it’s better not to point this out, especially if I want to continue having a relationship with my daughter.

  “I’m okay, sweetie. Are you ready?”

  Without turning her head, she shouts: “We’re leaving!”

  Tammy heads for my car.

  “Whoa there,” I say. “I am your father and so by law I am entitled to one hug every time we see each other.”

  She stops. Remembers to smile. Then gives me a hug. “Sorry, Dad. But I just wanna get out of here.”

  I hold on for just a moment longer. “Can you go back inside and say goodbye to your mother politely?”

  She sighs, drops her shoulders, and slumps forward. “Fine.”

  Looks like we’re going to have a nice evening together.

  Tammy yanks open the door, sticks just her head in, and shouts, “GOODBYE, MOM!”

  Lorelei appears in the doorway and reaches to give Tammy a hug, which our daughter reluctantly and only half-returns. Then Tammy whirls and, with phone out and fingers tapping a text to somebody, she strides right to my car and gets in.

  “God, Greg,” Lorelei says as she comes out. “What happened to you?”

  “Got into a fight with four fraternity brothers.”

  “I can’t tell if that’s a joke or not.”

  “I wish it was.”

  “COME ON, DAD! I’M HUNGRY!” Tammy cries from the car.

  “Be right there,” I call out.

  As I turn back to Lorelei, she gives me a martyred look.

  “See what I’m dealing with these days?” she asks.

  I smile and want to tell her to calm down. Because that always works. Forty years old, and I’m finally learning how to talk to a woman. This is progress.

  Instead I go with a simple observation. “Thirteen years old.”

  “I don’t get it,” Lorelei says. “She’s just turned into this …”

  Her voice trails off and tears fill her eyes and I can’t stand to see her cry. Never could. I give her a hug.

  “Remember how we used to say that everything is a phase?” I ask gently.

  “I hope and pray this is just a phase.” We let go of each other. “But I think this is karma.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Mom says this is how I was when I was her age,” Lorelei says. “I didn’t do anything they told me. I mean, I was a bad kid. I remember sneaking out of the house to go drinking with boys.”

  “Yeah, alright, but look how you turned out. Nobody pushes you around and you’ve got a great career.”

  “And this is why no guy sticks around.” A hand goes up to her mouth as she realizes what she’s just said to me. “I’m sorry, Greg. I shouldn’t talk to you about my love life.”

  “It’s okay,” I say, though admittedly it feels strange. I’m not hers and she’s not mine anymore, nor do either of us want that, but still there is a feeling of some kind of … togetherness? I don’t know what the word is. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “How are things with Denise?” she asks.

  “Oh …”

  She laughs. Shakes her head. “Seven billion people on the planet and we can’t find the right one.”

  She is not herself. Lorelei is an incredibly strong and independent woman. She has never seemed like the type to need a man in her life. I wonder if this difficult time with our daughter is making her feel alone. It must be challenging to have primary custody of a teenager especially when you’re working a high-pressure job.

  I gaze at my car, see Tammy through the windshield. Her head is down, her eyes on her phone. She must feel my stare, though, because she looks up and waves at me impatiently.

  “Things have been hectic lately,” I say. “I’d like to get back to taking Tammy out one night during the week again.”

  “I see what you’re doing.” She smiles over at me. “And I’m grateful.”

  “Alright, we’ll work out a schedule. Whenever she doesn’t have track or youth group. Okay?”

  “Or piano.”

  At first I think Lorelei is kidding, but when I look over I realize she’s not.

  “Remember I told you, Greg?” she asks, the attitude emerging. “I mentioned Tammy was interested in learning an instrument?”

  That rings a distant bell. “Yeah, I remember that but I don’t think I knew she started.”

  Lorelei nods skeptically. I know her well enough to know what’s happening inside that brain of hers. Her memory comes with a date and time stamp, she’s probably pulling up the tape where she relayed that information to me, down to the very second.

  “Sorry,” I cut her off, before we get into it, “like I said, things have been crazy lately.”

  And this is enough to bring her back down. “Yes. I know. I thought you were going to free up a little more now that the store and laundromat are out of your hands.”

  Except I don’t slow down. I’m always hustling. I can’t remember the last time I sat down to watch TV. Or read a book.

  Everybody hustles.

  “Me too,” I say. “I’ll have her back in a few hours.”

  “Please.” She gives me a playful, but pleading, smile. “Take as looooooooooonnnnnnng as you want.”

  In the car, Tammy keeps her eyes on her phone but asks, “What did she just say about me?”

  I wave bye to my ex-wife and reverse out of her driveway before I answer. “Your mother was just telling me you’re taking piano lessons. That’s great.”

  “Yeah, it’s alright.”

  “I always wanted to learn how to play an instrument.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  Why didn’t I? Why don’t we do all the things we want?

  “Only so many hours in the day.” I look over. She’s still got the phone out. Only half here with me. “Make you a deal, sweetie. No phone tonight, for either of us.”

  I expect to get a North Korean reaction to this. But she just shrugs, slips her phone in her pocket. “Cool.”

  “Cool?” I ask, not able to help myself. “Really?”

  “Yeah.” She smiles at me. “I’ve missed you, Dad.”

  So far, so sweet.

  “I was thinking we could—”

  “Can we shoot pool?”

  Do you believe in miracles? “You want to go to the hall?”

  “Yeah. That’d be cool.”

  “What do you want to eat?”

  “Could we just pick up a pizza or something and take it with us?”

  Yes. Dreams do really come true. “You are your father’s daughter.”

  “Thank God,” she says. “Because I don’t want to be like Mom.”

  Oh boy …

  We pick up a pizza on the way and then head into the hall. Wally and Roy light up when they see Tammy. She does too. When she was little, Lorelei used to bring her by while I was working. I realize that Roy and
Wally have not only known Tammy her whole life, they’ve also known me my whole life. That’s crazy. Roy, who is a little height-challenged, has to actually look up at her now.

  “You’re so tall!” he proclaims, then lowers his arm like it’s a limbo stick. “I remember when you were down here.”

  Tammy smiles. “I take after Dad.”

  Wally shakes her head. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever, ever say that.”

  She giggles at their humor. “So who wants to play me?”

  “I’m tired of kicking his … rear end,” Roy says, “and you better not take any lessons from your old man. He hasn’t made a cut shot in about three years.”

  “Only two,” I say, smiling.

  I let Roy and Wally argue over who’s going to show Tammy how to play and head to the register. Bernie looks up from his laptop.

  “Hey, boss.” He flips a salute. He’s actually getting better at this.

  “What’s shaking?”

  “All quiet on the western front.”

  We’re running twelve tables. Nothing is on fire. He’s got the book open on all twelve tabs. Pretzels are baking. Hot dogs are turning. All three arcade cabinets are working. The place looks clean.

  I’m nonplussed by how well things are going. “Alright, Bernie, keep up the good work.”

  I chow down while I have a moment, watching Tammy banter with Roy and Wally like she’s a grown-up as opposed to a little girl. I can’t believe how quickly the last thirteen years have passed, and I can’t believe how old I’ll be thirteen years from now. When I married Lorelei, like everybody else who gets married, I thought we’d be together forever. I never imagined myself forty years old and a bachelor.

  When you run a pool hall, you develop a sixth sense for knowing when teeny-boppers are about to show up, so it’s not a shock when I see a minivan pull to the curb and five teenagers jump out. Three boys and two girls. They look about Tammy’s age, maybe a year or two older.

  Shields up, as Captain Kirk would have ordered when the Klingons were around.

  They saunter in. The girls skip the register and go right over to Tammy, while the three boys come up.

  And now I see why Tammy wanted to come to the pool hall.

  “Uh, could we get a table,” one of the boys says. His hair is hiding most of his face. I wonder how much time he spends on it every morning before school.

  “Bernie, would you take care of this customer?” I nudge, because Bernie has wandered off to roam once more in Great American Novel land. He deigns to take his eyes off the screen, pushes off the stool, and gets a tray of billiard balls. While he does, one of the boys keeps turning around and peering in Tammy’s direction.

  “You’re on seventeen,” he says. “I’ll start the—”

  “You know what, Bernie? Table seventeen needs a little service.” It’s also the table farthest from the register, in the darkest corner of the hall, and half behind a pillar. I point at the table nearest the register. “Let’s put them right here. Best table in the house. Front. And center.”

  The three boys give each other a knowing look. Bernie passes them the tray of billiard balls.

  “House cues along the walls,” Bernie says. “Chalk on the tray with the balls and no sitting on the table.”

  The lead boy takes the tray, while the one who was stealing glances at my daughter tentatively looks up at me.

  “Let me know if you’d like some food or drinks,” I say. “I’ll be right here all night.”

  The poor kid gulps under my gaze, his Adam’s apple incredibly large in his scrawny little throat and the boys walk the few paces to the table. I feel eyes on me, discover Roy and Wally are watching.

  Both wearing their shit-eating grins.

  Tammy is still talking to the two girls at Roy and Wally’s table, and she’s doing a marvelous job of pretending not to notice the guys that have just come in.

  I bang out a text to Lorelei: “Thirteen years old.”

  I finish a slice of pizza and wander over to Tammy. As soon as I get there, her two girl friends scurry like birds flushed out of a bush by a bloodhound.

  “How about the four of us play a game?” I ask. “The young kids versus the old-timers.”

  Tammy looks past me in the direction of table five. She wants to hang with her friends, not shoot stick with her pop.

  But she puts on a smile. “Sure, Dad.”

  Roy and Wally just can’t stop smiling. I want to smack both of them. Here I thought Tammy wanted to have a good time with her old man, but she suggested the pool hall to either entice her friends to come out or because she knew they were already going to be here.

  Ah, well.

  At least we’re together.

  And at least I can keep an eye on these guys.

  That’s not so bad.

  “Tammy, maybe we should start a mini-tourney with your friends over there,” Wally says.

  Roy’s face is red, and he’s trying not to laugh.

  “Nope,” I say. “Just us right now.”

  Tammy eventually drifts over to hang with her friends. Wally and Roy close it out early, so I’m left to hang with Bernie, my number one (and almost only) employee, at the register. At least this way I can keep a close eye on my daughter. Not that I don’t trust her. I do.

  Really.

  I just need to keep an eye.

  That’s all.

  Whereas the other two girls aren’t actually playing pool, Tammy is not shy and pretty handily outplays the guys. She has a good eye, just like her grandfather, but like everybody else just starting out with this game, she has no sense of where the cue ball is going. As a result, she has some tough leaves that not even her good eye can save her from.

  “You know, Greg,” Bernie begins, taking a break from his book, “boys and girls mature much more quickly these days than—”

  “Shut the fuck up,” I say.

  Bernie shuts the fuck up.

  Twenty-Two

  “Jarek,” I say into my phone. “This is my courtesy call. I’m on campus right now.”

  “I appreciate you calling.”

  “It’s your calling.”

  “Huh?”

  I remember Bernie correcting my grammar the other day. And I’m not one to miss an opportunity to needle an Army guy.

  “You don’t appreciate me, Jarek. You appreciate the call.”

  “Huh?”

  “You should have said, I appreciate your calling.”

  “A dumb Marine giving me English lessons.” He laughs humorlessly. “Don’t turn into one of these professors on me. I have to deal with them enough every day.”

  “Don’t know how you do it. Whatever they’re paying you, it’s not enough. Anyway, I’m here.”

  “Where’s here exactly?”

  I eye the building. Quarter to ten and students are flowing in and out for their final exams. “The Quincy Building.”

  “What are you doing there?” he asks.

  “I think you know.” I look out my window in the other direction. “Because two of your men are nonchalantly watching the same building.”

  “Adam has a final exam there today.”

  “Seen him around?”

  “You know I haven’t. I would have called you,” Jarek says.

  “Would you have?”

  He takes me off speakerphone. Then I hear a door close. “I take the safety of our student body very seriously. I don’t want to see a young woman get hurt on my watch, so you can cut the shit about the conspiracy theory rattling around in that dim mind of yours.”

  “Okay.”

  “There is no conspiracy of silence here. We took immediate action when Lucy brought this to our attention.”

  “Alright, alright.”

  “With everything’s that happened, with that lacrosse team in Carolina, with that pedophile over at the other place, you think we’d try to cover something up to protect our swim team?”

  “Alright, Jarek, you’ve convinced me. That was uncalled
for.”

  “I’ll let my guys know you’re there. But two things. You go anywhere else, I want to know. Before you get there.”

  “And what else?”

  “Stay away from Brody.”

  “Okay,” I lie.

  Ten o’clock, the start of Adam’s last final exam, comes and goes without any sign of the kid. I watch the building and watch the clock and when it’s ten-twenty, I get out of my car and plod inside.

  Adam’s final is being administered on the second floor, room 213. There is no logical numbering for these rooms so I go the wrong way at first but eventually I find the big lecture hall. The double doors are closed, but there are tiny windows in each. Stepping up to the doors, I peer inside and can see the entire hall. It’s got stadium-like seating, so I can make out everybody all the way up to the back row.

  No Adam.

  I check the nearest men’s room.

  No Adam.

  I check the farthest men’s room.

  No Adam.

  I slip down the hallway, sit in a chair that gives me a vantage point to the lecture hall. And wait.

  And wait.

  And

  Wait

  No Adam.

  Back outside, I sit in my car and stew. Adam has skipped all five of his final exams. In keeping with the Houdini act, he has totally vanished. The two security guards swap out with a couple more. One of the guys leaving jabs a finger in my direction, pointing me out. I give them a wave, try to keep it from appear too mocking. I wait till the exam ends, twelve o’clock, and then I wait another half hour to see if Adam shows up anyway.

  He doesn’t.

  As I pull out of the lot, I wave to the security guards and drive away from fraternity row. I go a few blocks till I don’t see any security cars, then take a circuitous route to get back to fraternity row.

  Two of the guys from the “incident” at the frat house are throwing horse shoes on the lawn. They stop their game, but keep the shoes in hand, to watch me. They’re acting tough, but their initial reaction gives them away. Instead of immediately running me out of there, they just watch. That tells me they’re reluctant to try anything. Sure, they might have kicked the crap out of me a couple weeks ago, but I gave almost as much as I got, and that was in a four-on-one situation.