Page 69 of Haven't Killed in Years
- - - - -
It had been almosta week since Wesley had come to her door, and Natalie sat in her car outside Painting Pots. It had been a long day at work and she hadn’t been sleeping well. There was a fog in her brain that could almost let her relax, but when Gwen walked out in a striped blouse with her hair down, Natalie knew she wasn’t headed home, and it was like a shot of adrenaline.
Natalie sat up in her seat. She grabbed for the keys in the ignition, but when Gwen walked right past her own car, Natalie froze.
Gwen was headed toward the train station. She must be going into the city. It had to be a date. Why else would she be going into the city looking so nice?
Natalie hopped out of her car and hustled to the trunk. She rummaged around searching for something warm she could put on over her baggy long-sleeve T-shirt. She ripped open a thin trash bag full of old clothes she had been meaning to drop off at Goodwill. She knew there was a black fleece in there. The inside lining had completely worn through, but at least it was something. She wasn’t sure if Goodwill would even accept it, but she didn’t have the heart to throw it away. That’s why the bag had remained in the trunk; every time she debated pulling up to the donation center, she worried they would tell her everything she had was trash, so ugly and worn that not even a person in need would want it.
She found the thing and zipped it all the way up. It was better than nothing. She slammed the trunk and ran out of the parking lot, slowing to a normal pace once Gwen was in sight.
The train was always tricky for Natalie. She couldn’t very well ride in the same car as Gwen—public transportation inspired stares, the dense crowd failing to provide cover, instead giving people the confidence that their gaze could go unnoticed.
Natalie boarded the car in front of Gwen’s, staying at the door, standing and ready to disembark in an instant. There were really only a few stops she had to worry about if Gwen was headed downtown and not looking to switch trains. When the train stopped at State Street, Natalie caught a glimpse of Gwen’s brown hair on the platform and lunged off the train, pushing through the people who had already started boarding.
Natalie ascended the stairs out of the stifling underground station and into the fresh, cold air. She tucked her hands into the coat pockets, feeling the scratchy remnants of the liner. Gwen’s jacketlooked much warmer, and when she paused to zip it, Natalie shielded her face, pretending to check her phone. Then Gwen was on the move again.
Natalie stayed close, but not too close, a distance she practically had down to a science at this point. Gwen cut through a few side streets and crossed a main intersection on her way toward Faneuil Hall. Natalie’s teeth were chattering; where was spring?
Ultimately, Gwen dipped into a bar off Congress Street and Natalie slowed in front of the window. It was crowded inside, full of the after-work crowd. Tall bar tables lined the windows; Natalie couldn’t get away with standing there all night, noticeably gawking, not that she could tolerate the cold much longer anyway. She didn’t have much of a choice; if she wanted to watch, she had to go inside.
Natalie took a deep breath and pulled open the door, a cacophony of conversation pouring into the street. The door closed behind her, sealing her inside with the people and their gossip or their flirting or their complaining—whatever was making all that noise.
She scanned the room for Gwen and found her sitting at one of the tall tables near the bar. Across from her was her date. He didn’t look too threatening. He seemed to be around their age, too young and single to own a house. No house meant no basement. No basement meant no dungeon. There wasn’t much else for Natalie to surmise from first appearances. She found a seat on the opposite side of the bar, facing them but slightly obstructed by four guys huddled around two stools.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked, sliding a cocktail napkin in front of her.
She ordered a club soda and settled in for what would probably be two or three drinks on Gwen’s end.
- - - - -
He talked a lot.Way more than Gwen. Probably an 80-20 split. And he kept touching her hand.Stop touching her hand, Natalie thought.She doesn’t like to be touched like that; she pulls it away every time. Gwen excused herself to go to the bathroom, probably to wash her hands, maybe just to pee.
The date sat alone now. Their drinks were empty, waiting on the waitress. He pulled his phone from his pocket, checked something, then slipped it back in.
“Excuse me,” a voice came, penetrating Natalie’s bubble.
She turned to see a man standing there.
“Yeah?” she said, trying to keep her eye on Gwen’s date.
“Is this seat taken?” He pointed next to her.
“No,” she said, watching the waitress arrive at Gwen’s table with another round of drinks. No sign of Gwen.
“Are you here alone?” He kept talking as he sat, but she ignored him.
“Hey!” he barked, startling her.
Natalie’s whole body tensed as she whipped her head around to the man, unsure what was happening or what she would have to do.
“Sorry,” he said. “I thought you couldn’t hear me.”
Natalie gave the slightest smile to forgive and hopefully dismiss the man before looking back to Gwen’s table. The date was pulling his hand away from Gwen’s drink.
Why was he touching her drink?Natalie wondered. Maybe the waitress mixed them up? Maybe she put it down too close to him? Maybe he slipped something in there when Natalie wasn’t looking?
Gwen reappeared, smiling politely as she climbed back onto her stool. She put her hand around her glass and brought the tiny strawto her lips. Natalie held her breath. Gwen didn’t drop dead, not yet at least, and Natalie exhaled.
