Page 80 of All In
March 2017
The Parking Lot
Maria
“Brielle, I don’t know where you left your math book.” I internally moan as I look both ways at the intersection I’m stopped at. “You’re thirteen. And old enough to keep track of this stuff yourself.” I see the coast is clear, so I make the turn onto the street my building is on.
“I’m going to get in trouble if I can’t find it.” She poses this to me as if it’s a threat. It’s not.
Teenagers are so fun.
“Did you check the dining room table?” I offer as some sort of solution. Knowing full well it’s not there since I ate breakfast at the table this morning. I pull my car into my usual spot and turn off the ignition. She grumbles into my ear, and I can practically hear her eye roll as I turn around to grab my lunch bag from the back seat.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the same black car parked under an enormous tree across the lot. He gets here early sometimes, but then I won’t see his car for a few days. The tree branches cast a shadow, obscuring my view of his face, but a sense of being watched always hangs over me. I wonder where he works. At the hospital next door, or maybe in my building.
God, I hope he’s not some pervert. I gotta admit, my trust issues with men are currently at an all time low.
Plus, I wish I had someone waiting at home to tell this stuff to. Even though Nate was … well … Nate, it was nice to have a sounding board. Now, I have no one.
I asked Richelle about this guy a few weeks back, but she didn’t seem fazed.
“Oh, I’ve noticed him. I’m sure he’s harmless,” she shrugged when I asked her. But something seems almost familiar about his silhouette. I don’t know what it is, and I can’t seem to put my finger on it. Like, I know him somehow.
I shake the thought from my head, avert my eyes from the mystery man, and step out of the car. The phone is still up to my ear. I can hear Brielle lifting things, and it sounds like she’s rummaging through her bed, on the hunt for the math book. I heave my backpack from the back seat and there, staring back at me, is her book.
Son of a….
With my body tense and full of frustration, I break the news to my daughter. “Brielle, it’s in the car.”
“WHAT! Why is it in the car?”
The winter air bites at my back as I bend over to pick up the book, staring at it, wondering if I should take it to her at lunch or force her to reap the consequences at school. I toss it back in the seat.
“I don’t know, B. It’s not my book.” I only use her nickname when I’m irritated with her. Which, since she turned thirteen, is a lot. I’m standing outside my car now, my puffer coat doing nothing to protect me from the cold winter air swirling around me. “Maybe you will remember next time. I can’t bring it to you since I’m at work.”
“Fine,” she huffs out. “I guess I’m going to get detention then.”
“I guess so.” She doesn’t respond. There’s only silence. “Alright, sweetie, I gotta go or I’m going to be late. I’ll see you at home.”
“Bye, Mom.” The line goes dead. I shake my head, thinking about where my life is now raising teenagers. It’s different, that’s for sure. I throw my phone into my purse, quickly gather my things, and lock the door.
As I make my way to the employee entrance, the sound of a car door shutting startles me from behind.
CRAP!Is it the tree shadow creeper man?
“Oh, my God,” I mutter to myself.
The sound of crunching feet on pavement, only steps behind me, spurs me to quicken up my pace.
“Maria!”
I stop dead, my feet frozen in place. Because I know that voice. I would know it anywhere.
No wonder the tree man’s silhouette felt familiar.
It was Sam.
I turn slowly because he has caught up to me now. When I do, I’m met with my past and what was supposed to be my future. Our eyes collide, and suddenly, Brielle’s math crisis is in the rearview mirror because the only thing I see right now is Sam.
