Chapter 2
TWO
Mia
It’s a twenty-minute drive back to my house and Jeff has been on the phone with a colleague from work, arguing about an upcoming update to the servers for the last ten. I’m not completely detached from the project, my small team is going to be heading up the structural changes to the website, but I’m not sure I should be listening in.
“The servers are down?” Jeff asks, pausing, “You aren’t supposed to push the updates to the test server just yet, that’s why you have the sandbox environment.”
His knuckles flash white as he grips the steering wheel, so I busy myself and fish out my phone.
Opening up the photo app, I scroll through the handful of pictures I took of the carnival landing on the batch that I shot at the ring toss. I don’t recognize most of the shapes, aside from the odd pentagram and pentacle. They vaguely look like alchemical circles mixed with King Solomon’s seals used to ward off evil spirits, but wrong.
The hair on the back of my neck prickles as I flip through the photos and I sense I’m being watched. I look in the passenger’s side mirror, but the road is clear behind us.
Jeff doesn’t seem to feel it, he’s still engrossed in the call, explaining how they should ping someone else to restart the test servers because he's on a 'fucking date'.
I can't shake it. The sensation builds until it resonates like a physical touch on my shoulder. In the rear-view mirror, I catch the sight of two furry gray ears. Shifting, I glance at the teddy bear propped in the back seat, his face bathed in the glow of the red traffic light.
“Fuck.” Jeff growls, pulling out his earbud and tossing it to the cupholder, “I’m sorry, Mia.”
“It’s okay. I know how it is.” I turn around.
He nods to my phone, “What is that?”
“Just some photos from the carnival. There were these weird symbols painted on the side of the stalls. I’m wondering if they were leftover from some kind of film shoot or?—“
The light turns green.
“It’s probably some teenagers screwing around,” He turns his attention to the road, his eyes flitting to the rearview mirror, “According to the news articles I found when I was researching it for our date, the place gets vandalized at every stop. They just expect it at this point.”
I settle back into my seat, “You might be right, but this isn’t normal graffiti.”
“Looks like that witchy shit that you always have on your desk. My bet is still on the teenagers."
That witchy shit is a small page-a-day calendar that shows the zodiac and lunar cycle. Jeff walked by one day, pointing to the calendar and announcing it’s almost Leo season.
Beside me, he fidgets, eyes going to the rearview mirror again.
“What is it?” I ask, turning around. The road is still clear.
“Nothing,” he grips the steering wheel, “I could have sworn that bear just moved.”
Jeff parks the car at the curb and pulls the teddy bear out of the back seat before I can stop him. Part of me was hoping I could use the bear as an excuse to slip into the house with little fanfare or as a bear-shaped shield to avoid the lingering promise of a goodnight kiss.
After the sub-par date, I was looking forward to pouring myself a glass of wine and watching one of my comfort horror movies before bed.
It’s a tradition I started in high school with my best friend, Erika, after we decided we were too cool to go trick-or-treating. It started with parent-approved late 90s teen horror, then quickly spiraled to the classics, Halloween, Nightmare on Elm Street and Friday the Thirteenth before we were factoring in b-movies and for a year in college we watched mainly foreign language films.
“I could carry him,” I gesture as I climb out of the car, shifting my purse to my side.
“Him?” Jeff laughs, hoisting the bear higher, “How do you figure it’s a ‘him’?”
I have no reasonable explanation to assume the gender of the teddy bear, other than it fits. Like someone whispered the truth in my ear while I was carrying him around the carnival.
“You’re right,” I play it off, waiting for Jeff to walk around the car and accompany me to the house.
“Did you give him a name, too?”
I glare at him sidelong, rummaging around in my purse for the rubber covering of my house key, “No, that’d be silly.”
The rental is a tiny two-bedroom house built in the late 80s with a cookie-cutter floor plan that is flipped and reflected down the entire street. I picked it because my landlord jumped onto the neutral trend from ten years ago and painted the outside a beautiful cool mid-toned gray with black trim that makes the bright turquoise statement door resemble a glowing portal to another dimension.
“This thing sure is heavy,” Jeff shifts the bear to the other arm as I unlock the door, “I can’t believe you carried it around the fairgrounds all by yourself.”
“Let me take him from you,” I open the door and reach for the bear, but Jeff ignores me and walks right into my house.
“Just tell me where you want it to go.”
I close the door behind me and toss my purse on the hall table, “The couch is fine.”
The bear looks right at home, his gray fur complimenting the dark chocolate leather couch and my little charcoal throw pillows. I’m glad I didn’t second-guess my choice.
“Thanks.” I fold my arms over my chest, watching Jeff take in my living room.
Similar neutral gray paint covers the walls with white trim instead of the black from the exterior. I’ve kept the theme going with a set of monotone curtains and dark wood bookshelves on the far side of the wall with a matching console underneath my 55” flat screen. I think it gives the space some warmth. Okay, I've been watching too many home renovation shows.
“It’s early,” he looks down at his watch, “Just past 9:30. The night is still young. ”
“Yeah, I was probably going to just put on a movie and then go to bed.” I say, really hoping that he takes the hint.
Jeff crosses the room, running his fingertips over the spines of my books before picking up the little ceramic raven my mom bought me last Halloween, “Oh really? What movie?” He looks over his shoulder.
I don’t have an answer, so I panic, scanning my blu-ray collection and picking out the first one that calls to me.
“Scream.” I wince the moment my answer leaves my mouth, knowing how past partners have criticized my taste in movies. Namely, that I prefer camp over “real horror”.
“You’re going to watch Scream before bed?” He quirks a brow, returning the raven to her perch on my shelf.
“It’s a Halloween tradition.”
“The movie is pretty watered down as far as slasher flicks go, but I have to admit it’s a classic.”
I’m all too ready to launch into my defense of the series as a staple in the late 90s and 00s teen horror revival when his words finally hit me.
“You like it?” I stand up a little straighter.
“Yeah, I mean, I haven’t seen it in like ten years, so I’m not sure it holds up.”
It’s been pretty lonely here the last few months and maybe I’m just missing the comfort of having a roommate, but I am legitimately considering letting Jeff stay a little longer. I really hope I don’t regret it.
If I asked Erika, she would tell me I was being too hard on him. There’s just so much conflicting dating advice. Butterflies are good, butterflies are a red flag. You should be the one to approach men, but be careful that you don’t move into your masculine space. I know most of it is bullshit, but these days, it feels like everyone is operating with their own set of rules and I can’t catch up.
Jeff seems like a decent guy, albeit awkward sometimes, but who isn’t? Worst-case scenario, we can be friends. Right?
“Do you want to join me?” I quickly add, “Just for the movie and nothing else.”
“Just the movie,” he nods, a smirk tugging at his lips.