Niteblade – March 2009

He seemed to shrink, his face suddenly going pale. He dropped the phone on the ground, scrambled to his feet, and took off down the street at a dead run, the hard bagel banging back in forth in its plastic case as he fled. Melanie let out a long breath, and felt a momentary wave of dizziness. With shaking hands she picked up her phone again and dialed her friend, Walter.

The phone rang six times before his sleepy voice came on. “Hullo?”

“Wally, hey, it’s me.”

“Mel. It’s… early.”

“I went to breakfast with Jerrod, and he dumped me. Also, a homeless guy tried to steal my phone.” Saying it out loud made Melanie feel faintly ridiculous.

Walter’s tone changed. “Oh, man, I’m sorry Mel. Uh, how badly did you handle it?”

Melanie considered being offended, but abandoned the idea quickly. “I talked a lot. I did my rambling thing. I told him about weird dreams I’ve been having and then somehow I was talking about Pearl Jam.”

“The band?”

“I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah, but now I’m curious about these dreams. Do all of your dreams have an early 90’s alternative soundtrack?”

Melanie ignored that. “He called me the unholy queen of chaos.”

There was an even longer pause. “He knows?”

“Ha ha. He said he was orderly, and I was the queen of chaos. He was really mean about it.”

“Well, if he’s orderly, then you two represent opposing cosmic forces.”

“Look, has everyone other than me gone completely insane?” Melanie realized she was shouting, and looked around to see if anyone noticed. The passing drivers didn’t spare her a glance.

Walter was saying, “That’s actually less unlikely than you might—”

“I’m coming over.”

Walter’s voice got gentle. “Of course. Where are you? Do you need a ride?”

Melanie shook her head and began walking. “I’m only a couple blocks away. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” She shifted the phone to her other ear, then said, “Wally, I love you. What would I do without you?”

“Die horribly.”

Melanie hung up and put the cell back in her pocket. The two blocks to Walter’s house gave her time to reflect, and by the time she reached the steps to his building, she decided she was a new woman. Jerrod wasn’t right for her, not at all. With his ironed khakis and his always combed hair. Who needed that kind of pressure to be perfect? And what about that dog? No grown man should love a dog that much. It was creepy. See you later, Jerrod. Melanie’s moved on. She trotted up the stairs two at a time to Walter’s floor, then rapped out shave-and-a-haircut on his door.

When he opened it, she was standing on his welcome mat bawling like a child. He put an arm around her and guided her into his apartment. But once he got her inside, he seemed to run out of useful ideas, and just stood in front of her, clutching his hands together and almost hopping from foot to foot. His short white-blond hair obviously hadn’t been combed yet that morning, and he was wearing a ridiculous t-shirt with a picture of two ten sided dice on it. The sight was silly enough to move Melanie from wracking sobs into a less painful half sob-half laugh. Walter took this as an encouraging sign, and started to smile. He handed her a box of tissues from a nearby shelf. “Taking it pretty hard, huh?”

She nodded, then blew her nose into a tissue with several loud and unladylike honks. “Wally, what’s wrong with me?”

“You mean, other than the obvious?” Clearly, he had recovered enough to think he was funny again.

“I’m 27, Wally. I have nothing. I have a tiny apartment, no money, no boyfriend, no job.”

Walter tipped his head to one side. “You lost your job?”

Melanie ignored that. She moved over to the mirror by his front door and stared at herself. “Something must be wrong with me. Am I hideous?” She examined herself critically. “My hair is a mess.” She flipped a clump of dark brown curls out of her face.

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