Patrick

Bee Gees Song of the Day: Smoke and Mirrors

Smoke and Mirrors

May God bless you,
keep you safe from all harm.
Oh, may I stand by you always.
Time and motion.
Hands touch,
lips find a way to heaven on high.

I have become, over the last several years, more skeptical and wary. There are a lot of reasons for that I think, none of which really matter. I don't know whether to mourn the loss of my naturally trusting nature, or to congratulate myself that I'm no longer as gullible as I once was.

Guess it’s a mixture of both.

And I'm still plenty trusting and gullible, so the loss isn't total. Remind me sometime to tell you about the serial killer I picked up in -26°F weather. You will take me to task.

With that said, I was naturally suspicious as I was walking my dog Tuesday morning when I saw a car stationary in an area where cars are not normally parked. Belonging to the school of thought that one should look a potential attacker in the eye so that he knows you could identify him in a line up, I took a proactive approach and got a good look at him and his car. White sedan, looks like a Ford (but I’m so bad with cars), he has dark hair, early 40s, from what I could tell from the elbow lounging out of his open window, a slender build.

(The flip side of that school of thought is that if your attacker thinks you can ID him, he'll slit your throat so you CAN'T. It's a crap shoot.)

As I was passing (the car was probably 10 yards away), I noticed that the driver was looking directly at me as well. He nodded by way of acknowledgment, and his hand moved in a friendly gesture. I moved on; Buddy’s needs brook no intermission. The time was roughly 5:50 am.

I was careful to casually turn around a few times to make sure White Car was not following me with a shiv at the ready. He was not. I’ve read too much John Douglas and watched too much Forensic Files for my own good. My encounter was forgotten.

Until Wednesday when he was there again. I saw him before he could see me. Bleep. It was 5:50 am again. Bleep! He saw me. BLEEP. Now he knows my schedule. I nodded in a very perfunctory way, letting him know I remembered him from the other day and would report him to the police if he molested me in any way. I was moving on.

“You walk by here every day?” My lightening fast brain (HA!) calculated the statement, the variety of responses, and how best to handle the situation. “Yep.” Planning on changing that tomorrow though guy. “You park there every day?”

“Got a buddy that lives over there,” gesturing to a nearby development. I detected a raspy voice; likely a smoker. He was wearing a bandana on his head. A gray one. “We ride in to work together and I wait for him here. That’s a beautiful German Shepard you have there.” Good, you look at my German Shepard, guy. He bites. “What’s his name?” “Buddy.” “Buddy! I have a dog named Buddy!” “Is that right? Ha ha. Well, it’s a pretty common name for a dog.” I was on the offensive again, “And what’s your name?” “Patrick!” “Ah! Well, nice to meet you Patrick.” “And your name?” I am ashamed to tell you that I gave him my real first name. "Erica." Eh. It’s not on my mailbox. “Well, you have a good day Patrick! See you!”

I moved on, keeping my eyes open for a white sedan following me.

I am well aware that Patrick could have just been a friendly guy saying good morning and being pleasant. My imagination is fertile however and my inner Paranoid speaks up, “He’s probably a rapist. Change your route and the timing of your walks. If you see him again, don’t let him know that Buddy is 105 in people years. Start carrying a steak knife.”

I don’t know about the steak knife, but I think I’ll start carrying my cell phone. And telling as many people about the chance encounter as I can so that in the event I disappear while walking Buddy, you’ll know where to start looking for the body.

But if he turns out to be an obnoxiously wealthy, Roman Catholic lover of Asian Film and we ever get married, you won't tell him what I said about him, will you?