Page 70 of Haven't Killed in Years
They finished their drinks. He was still reaching for Gwen’s hand. Maybe it was a nervous tic; he was doing it so frequently. Gwen pulled her hand back and rubbed her forehead. She didn’t look good. She was flushed, taking deep breaths, leaning her elbow on the table. Her posture was flimsy and weak.
Gwen slid off the stool. She was going to the bathroom again. She’d just been to the bathroom. Something was happening to her. Her drink.
The guy adjusted in his seat. He glanced around the bar.What are you looking for?Natalie wondered.
He got off his stool and stood next to the table; his eyes were shifting all over the place.
Natalie crawled her fingers over to an abandoned plate at the seat next to her, the fatty edges of a steak waiting to be bused away. She grabbed the knife and slipped it under the bar.
The date started walking. He was headed toward the bathroom. He was looking for Gwen. He was going after her.
Natalie jumped off her stool. She was on the move. She gripped the knife.
He turned the corner into the hallway where the bathrooms were and Natalie lost sight of him. She shoved a couple of people out of the way, picking up her pace. She rounded the corner, crashing directly into the date.
“What the hell?!” he exclaimed. He was standing at the waitress stand, next to the kitchen, talking to their waitress, getting the check.
“Sorry,” Natalie muttered, confronted with the reality of the situation. She turned and ran out, dropping the knife on a random table.
She burst into the street.What was I thinking? What was I doing?
Natalie waited in an ATM vestibule across the street until Gwen and the man left the restaurant. When they parted ways at the entrance to the train station with a peck on the cheek, it cemented Natalie’s overreaction. Her fantasy of being some kind of savior had almost ruined everything. She had nearly stabbed the man with a steak knife. She had to be better.
The train ride back to her car was agonizing. If Natalie couldn’t control herself, she’d need to adjust, but she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to have to wait in her car all the time because she couldn’t trust herself anywhere else. Her own actions were betraying her, like they always did.
Natalie drove down Gwen’s street. Her car was in the driveway and there was a light on in the bathroom window. Gwen was inside. She was safe; there was no use in Natalie staying until Gwen went to bed. Natalie hadn’t been sleeping well. It was affecting her temperament. Maybe that’s all it was.
She didn’t want to admit to herself the real reason she wasn’t sleeping well.
She was watching the man in the house. She was lying awake, wondering if he was watching her too.
Thirty-Seven
Sixteen years ago
Natalie had been onher best behavior all day and hadn’t lost any of her TV time. Natalie and Gwen sat together in a jumbo beanbag chair, watching a family sitcom that one of the attendants had turned on, but Natalie’s bladder was bursting with watered-down juice. She held out for a commercial break and once the show cut away, Natalie rolled out of the chair.
“Have to pee. Be right back.”
“Okay,” said Gwen as Natalie sprinted into the hallway.
There were two single bathrooms off the recreation room and Natalie shoved into the first door. It was locked and a high-pitched voice screamed, “I’m in here!” so she bounced off the door and into the next bathroom. As soon as she felt the door give, she knew it was unlocked and started to undo the button on her pants. She had to be quick to finish before the show came back. She lowered the zipper as she stepped through the doorway onto the tile floor.
She was not alone.
Declan was standing over the toilet.
“Sorry!” Natalie exclaimed, yanking her zipper back up and turning to leave.
“Hey, hey, hey!” Declan said, grabbing her attention back before her brain could catch up.
As Natalie turned back around, Declan rotated from the toilet and started peeing, his stream of piss landing on Natalie’s socks.
“Stop it!” she yelled, but as she stepped back, he stepped forward.
She turned away, but then she could feel it spraying the backs of her calves as she reached for the door.
“Just marking my territory,” he mocked.
