He sat at a table near the window, shoulders hunched in a duster-type leather coat with a worn and cracked collar. The fast food place was reasonably warm, but it wasn’t the temperature that drew his shoulders in.
A passerby may have thought he was watching the lone child playing in the McDonald’s playground, but a closer inspection would have shown his unfocused and downcast eyes. The only real direction he was looking would have been inside, alternating between a mental chant of “I can’t” and more concern about what he’d have to do next to survive when he was able to tamp down the panic.
He looked around from time to time to make sure that no one had chosen to sit closer to him. If anyone did, he knew he would pull away like a too-often-hit pup and have to leave. Crowds of any size made him feel uneasy now, his stomach aching and a trembling throughout his body most pronounced in his legs. He gripped both of his wrists tighter, willing the tremors to stop but not succeeding.
He felt the cell phone in his pocket buzz twice to tell him about an incoming message, but couldn’t muster the mental toughness to pull it out of his pocket. He would … in a few minutes … but the panic held sway right now over any natural curiosity. His eyes filled with tears as it whelmed deep inside him, threatening to escape.
He felt more than saw that he was drawing more attention from the employees, so he stood and walked out only lifting his eyes but not his head to anyone he passed. He ignored the door being held for him by someone walking in, choosing the other and pushing it aside himself, ashamed and afraid that he would have to speak, even with just a simple “Thanks.” His neck ached with the weight his constant shrug put on it, but lifting his head caused too much fear of inviting a met look, much less conversation.
He walked down the sidewalks of the strip mall designed in an X-style, turning his shoulders away and stepping to the other side of the concrete when another passerby would approach. If he felt the wake of someone walking behind him, he would turn his head and quickly look back again when he saw them. He would slow his pace, but if that was not enough, he would feign looking into the window of a shop, not caring when once it advertised “New Guest Coming Soon!” alongside the picture of smiling shoppers.
The dark of a movie theater had calmed him some to almost-normal, but he knew it was temporary. Only the dark of the room and the fact he had an empty seat next to him allowed him to bear the crowd; if he had been able to think rationally, he would have bought two tickets to ensure his space. Too soon, the movie was over and he was the first to leave the theater, out of his seat before the first credit had started rolling.
He stood at the intersection much too long, waiting until it was entirely clear of cars and even stopping twice because one had just pulled up. He knew it looked odd and tucked his head deeper into his shoulders, looking anywhere but at the driver. He chose a restaurant at random, hoping he could sit inside and let a drink calm him.
The bartender took his quiet order, straining forward to hear him. She brought the dark drink to him, placing it on a small square napkin. When she walked away, all he could do was stare at it for a full minute, only dragging his stare to the game on the television over his head when he sensed to continue to do so would look awkward.
He finally took a small sip and then another two minutes later; he knew a quarter of the way through it that he would finish just the one, pay and include a small tip, and scuttle out the door again. A few fans of the game had come in, one stepping next to him and ordering a drink, but that was one too many. He made a scribbling motion to the bartender and she brought him his check. He thought he saw a new wariness in her eyes, like she didn’t know if he was a crazy who might explode at any moment.
He left some cash on the receipt and was steeling himself to stay maybe one more minute, but when he saw the two women sitting two seats away from him gathering their coats, he panicked. If he waited, they might exit at the same time. He slid his glass on the bar, pushed away from the barstool, and almost ran out the door without sliding the stool out of other people’s way.
He walked to the car and sat in it for a few minutes, not trusting that his emotions wouldn’t jeopardize his driving. He felt his cell phone buzz twice once more, but made no move. He stared out the windshield, trying to calm his breathing and twitching muscles, but avoided meeting his own gaze in the rearview mirror.
Eventually, he pulled his hands out from deep in his jacket’s pockets, drew his seat belt around him, and started the car. Pulling out from his parallel parking space, he didn’t know exactly where he was going, but that didn’t matter much when he had no idea how he could even get there if he did …
