Chasing Shadows (7 page)

Hmm, perceptive, I look down at his mouth and
back to his eyes. “That’s just a chance you’ll have to take, Qasim,
because I’m not fucking you in this pissy stairwell by a glass
door. Maybe we don’t talk much, huh? Maybe you keep your hands...”
I stop, stretching my face up to get my tongue in his mouth. I move
his left hand between my legs and press it there, hard. Qasim
exhales. I move my mouth down to his neck and kiss it, knowing I'm
being way too easy and not caring in the least. Now I run my teeth
over his skin bearing down just a little. I leave his hand on my
va-jay-jay, and move mine to his cock which is pressing firmly into
his jeans. He sighs, moving his long, excellent fingers
rhythmically over my sweet spot. There is a sound from above. The
door is opening, “Fuck.” I giggle, pulling back. I open the glass
door. “Let’s go.”

Qasim grins and rushes out after me. He wraps
his arms around me from behind. I feel him against my back. We walk
awkwardly like that for a few paces, both of us giggling stupidly.
Jesus, I think, what if he’s right? How awkward will that be if I
get him home and don’t want to fuck him? “Hot damn, its cold.” I
say.

Qasim steps around to the side of me. He opens
his mouth to reply but thinks better of it. Instead he nuzzles his
face into my neck, trying to give me a hickey as we move forward. I
giggle. It’s slow going to walk and make out at the same time, but
its fun. Its also cold, damn cold. My nipples are painfully hard.
Qasim notices. He grabs one.

“Ow.” I’m looking out over the empty sidewalk.
There’s the shadow! I watch it cross the street, while Qasim the
squeaky lead singer of Condition, teases my left nipple and I
almost fail to notice the yellow cab. Almost. “Hey!” I yell
flailing my arm, “cab!”

Qasim detaches himself from my neck as the cab
pulls over. We run to meet it. I scramble in first and He folds his
extra long body in after me. My God I want to grab his thighs, so I
do. It’s blessedly warm in here.

“Where to?” The cabbie says.

Qasim leans forward to give the man an address,
keeping his voice down, probably trying to minimize my hearing it.
While they’re talking, I reach my drunken hand up the back of his
shirt, enjoying the feel of skin. Are those ribs? Holy shit he’s
skinny. What am I doing? The world spins. Now we’re moving and
Qasim turns towards me, his hand on my thigh. He’s squeezing it,
massaging it, sending tingles of pleasure up to my brain with those
long, pretty, brown fingers. I might be moaning. The cabbie checks
us out in the rearview. Is that embarrassment trying to crowd the
party? My experience of life is getting a little disjointed now.
I’m floating in a back seat sea of arms and legs. I close my eyes
for a second. When I open them Qasim is helping me out of the
cab.

“Maybe you’re too drunk for this.” He whispers,
disappointment on his face.

I stroke his hair. “I like you.” I whisper
back, but now I ruin it by snapping my head around to follow the
flight of a black, shadow bird that Qasim clearly can’t
see.

Qasim cocks an eyebrow. Man he has great
eyebrows! He shrugs, shakes his head, and draws me into his arms.
“I’ll cook you something; you should eat.”

I follow him up some steps I barely register,
and wait in the cold while he fumbles with his key. He supports my
weaving, drunk ass as I stumble into his apartment. We enter in the
kitchen, and he sits me down at the table. Wordlessly Qasim goes to
the fridge and opens the freezer compartment. He pulls out a box
and shows it to me. Cheese sticks!

“Awesome!” I say.

Qasim smiles, dumps some out onto a plate, and
sticks them in the microwave. He sits down next to me in the other
kitchen chair. We’re not touching now which seems lonely to me. I
reach for his knee.

“You don’t really... I mean...” he’s whispering
to hide the pitch of his voice. It’s irritating me.

“Hey!” I say firmly. “Stop that.” With
absolutely no grace, I stand up, move over, straddle the confused
guy and sit in his lap facing him. I run my hands through his hair.
“You don’t have to whisper.” I say.

He just looks at me with an expression like
‘yeah sure’.

“Really.” I slur. “So your voice is different.
So fucking what? If you had a low voice you’d be totally
intimidating, and I wouldn’t even be able to talk to
you.”

Qasim laughs but his hands are at his sides not
touching me.

Up with this, I will not put. I grab those
long, lovely hands and place them on my thighs. “You changed
your
mind?” I ask. “After you were worried I’d change
mine?”

For an answer, Qasim lifts my shirt and buries
his head in my boobs. I smile, that’s better. His voice comes out
muffled and squeaky. “I know I’m gonna regret this, but you seem
pretty cool, so I’m gonna say...” Here he pauses, brings his hands
in under my shirt and uses them to squeeze my breasts to his face.
I feel tongue and then the hot exhale of breath as he sighs. “We
should wait until you’re sober and see what you think
then.”

Vague memories of my sobriety filter up through
the fog. I sigh too, on purpose, and arch my back, shoving my boobs
into his face. Can’t let a statement, like the one Qasim just made,
go untested. His hands move down and squeeze my thighs. I wriggle
my hips forward, grinding. The microwave beeps. Food?

“Cheese sticks?” He squeaks through my
boobs.

I laugh. “Fuckin’ ay.” I say, grabbing his head
and smothering him for a second before I dismount, nearly falling
over the table in the process. He laughs with me as he gets up to
get the food. “Marinara?” I ask

“Nope, sorry.”

I could get to like his weird little voice, I
tell myself. I raise my arms to shoulder level, palms up. “So what
do you dip them in?”

Qasim snickers at the sight of me. “Ranch.” He
says. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Can I tell the guys we did it? It’s gonna suck
admitting I let the chance pass me by.”

I nod. “Yeah sure. I’ll say it was great,
you’re huge, and I couldn’t walk in the morning...” I pause, my
mind is racing, and my mouth is on autopilot. “Tell them I sucked
you off after.” I laugh. “Ha! Tell them I swallow. That’s
hilarious!”

Qasim sets the food on the table with an
incredulous smile. “Yeah, we’ll have to re-evaluate
that
in
the morning.”

I begin stuffing my face. “How old are you?” I
ask through my food.

“28.” He says

I nod. “You’re fucking beautiful.” I confess.
Too much perhaps? But I don’t let that stop me. “When you walked
in, I couldn’t see anything but you. I was terrified. I just knew
I’d make an ass of myself...” I pause to swallow and reflect. “Good
thing
that
didn’t happen huh?” I laugh and Qasim laughs with
me.

“Then I opened my mouth.” He says.

I nod. “And all my anxiety evaporated, leaving
me free to be the suave, social genius I truly am.” I
snort.

Qasim reaches over and brushes my hair behind
my ear. “You want to shower?”

My eyes light up. “You joining me?”

He grins: it’s amazing. “No, but you said you
don’t like all that junk in your hair.”

“Oh yeah.” I shrug. “I don’t know, I’m pretty
woozy. What time is it?”

“Just midnight.”

“Really? Shit.”

There’s a long pause in conversation while we
both attack the cheese sticks.

“You could sleep it off.” He says at
last.

“That sounds good.”

Qasim leads me to the bedroom, where I remove
my shirt and bra because I can. I lie down on the bed and he spoons
up behind me, cupping my left breast in his hand. I’m having
thoughts about how we’ll probably have sex when we wake up, and
maybe more than that. Maybe we’ll be a couple, at least for a
while. We could hang out, call each other, and have sex a lot. I
could become friends with the other band chicks. I get the
impression Qasim’s thinking the same kinds of thoughts because he
sighs real sweet, and kisses my shoulder before I fall off to
sleep.

***

I wake in the dark and am disoriented. I’m not
in my bed. I see light from a streetlamp falling through the window
and on the floor. I see a shadow dart across it. I feel an arm
wrapped around me. I lie still holding my breath. The sensation of
the arm doesn’t go away, and now I remember Qasim. I exhale. I
guess he’s awake because he asks, “What is it?”

A shiver passes over me and I blurt out. “I’m
not truly very cool Qasim. I’m actually kind of crazy,
schizophrenic maybe.”

He stiffens, removing his arm form around me.
“You don’t need to make shit up, Meegan. I knew you wouldn’t be
that into me sober.”

Well, that made me angry. I sit up and face
him. “Remember when we got out of the cab and I said I liked you
and then my head jerked?”

He nods, defensive but listening, which begs
the question, why am I telling him this?

“Well, I saw a shadow bird, and you didn’t see
it, so I know I was hallucinating. It flew right by our
heads.”

Qasim narrows his gaze. He hasn’t decided if
I’m telling the truth or not so I go on.

“I see them all the time, all over the place,
but mostly around my apartment, and they're not always birds.
Sometimes they’re just orbs or blobs, like, floating. They used to
be literally just moving shadows out of the corners of my eyes, but
now sometimes they’re solid and I can see them straight on. They’re
not always dark, sometimes they're light. Also I’ll get this
feeling and then see someone standing behind me, over my shoulder.
When I turn there’s no one there. Also...” I go on, I can’t stop
now. “I feel things: taps on the shoulder, breath on my neck, hands
on my back, I’ve been pinched. And there’s never anyone there.” I
stop and catch my breath for a second. “I don’t know why I’m
spilling my guts here. Maybe it’s because, if you want to hang out
or whatever, more than just tonight, then I think you should know
about it. Besides that, I’m just generally sick of pretending to be
normal all the time.” Now I’m embarrassed so I turn my head away
from him. “Don’t turn me into a psych ward. I’m not ready to be
committed yet.” I say, sulking like a little kid.

Qasim is silent for a long time. “Is everyone
who sees things schizophrenic? Could you be seeing real things that
the rest of us don’t?”

“You’re just trying to be nice.”

Qasim sits up. “No really, if you’re having a
psychotic break then you need help, but what if you’re a medium or
something?”

“Oh Christ, you believe in that
shit?”

Qasim shrugs. “I don’t know. I believe lots of
stuff and none of it. What if you tested it?”

Now he has my full attention. “What do you
mean?”

“Have you ever asked them what they want? Tried
to follow them? If it’s a ghost, maybe it’s trying to tell you
something.”

I hug my knees to my chest, thinking. “Huh...
Maybe I could do that, and if they led me to nothing, and I end up
traipsing through the sewers or some shit, I’ll snap out of it when
the sun comes up, and cart my own ass off to the loony bin.” I’m
nodding. This idea has merit. I’ve momentarily forgotten about
Qasim. “Then I’d know. That’s what makes you nuts, not knowing if
it’s real.” I look at him and smile, but he doesn’t return the
smile.

“Yeah,” he says, “I don’t think I want to see
you, you know, like that.”

I balk. “I told you I’m not making it
up.”

Qasim nods. “And I think I believe you. Look I
know I sound funny, but I think I deserve to be with a girl who’s
not crazy... Not that I’m saying you’re crazy, but there’s a good
chance, and I’m really not like,
committed
to seeing you
through therapy or anything.”

I stare at him. “Whoa.” I say. “Okay, good
call.” I stand up to gather my stuff. This is when I realize I’m
topless. Great, rejected with the boobs out. Excellent moment. I’ll
wanna remember this forever, wish I had my camera. Trying not to
look pathetic or angry, I find my bra and shirt, get dressed, and
get my boots on, jacket and bag, finally I’m ready. I look at him.
“Gonna see me out?”

Qasim nods, biting his lip humorlessly. “Yeah,
I gotta lock up behind you.” He says. Awesome.

Chapter Four

A great wind blows through my apartment. My
sheets fly up around my torso, as I sit bolt upright in bed. My
lights are off, but I can see. Everything glows with a blue-white
light. It’s so hot, this wind. My hair whips at my face. I hear my
cupboards banging on their hinges. Bang! Must be the fridge fell
over. You have got to be kidding me, how will I ever get that back
up? The wind begins to swirl, knocking pictures off the walls. I am
overcome with a sense of great urgency. My heart beats so fast.
It’s hot, hot, hot. I sweat, but the moisture is whisked away by
the howling wind. I can't hear anything over that howl. I shake and
fight the current to untangle myself from my sheets, to get up, to
do anything. I feel tiny and powerless. Somehow I make it to my
feet. Debris flies against me. Clothes and papers catch on my legs.
Smaller items: lighters and my phone, thwack me about the head. I
squint into the gale. The current sucks the moisture from my eyes.
"What do you want?!" I scream. My voice is sucked into the wind.
It’s turned to silence and I wake up.