How many times had I noticed him now? A shadowy figure, it had been a few weeks since I first saw him, and every time my eyes caught his form, he would vanish. It became a sort of game, to see if I could catch a glimpse, even wondering at some point if my mind and eyes played tricks, maybe my imagination had me thinking there was someone there. Someone dark and brooding. Someone just out of my eyesight. Once or twice, I had even followed up on a sighting, walking to the corner where I thought for sure a form watched, but there was never anyone there. Anyone that looked like the one I sought.
It seemed I noticed him the first time on a visit to my cousin, Sara. She was going through a really tough time, having witnessed the murder of her lover, and I stayed at her loft overnight. The next morning, she woke me up, telling me she had to report to work. Since it was a Saturday, I had the day off, and decided to use some of her workout equipment. I also did a bit of straightening up for her. Pez was a great cousin and a close friend, but not the neatest of creatures. A few times during the day. I got the feeling that someone was watching me, but never saw anyone. Maybe her loft was haunted, I thought, laughing to myself. I cooked her a casserole, leaving it in the fridge after it had cooled, with explicit directions for re-heating. Locking the door behind me, I left, heading back to my apartment across town. Again, out of the corner of my eye, I saw 'him', back in the shadows. Try as I might, I could barely make him out, and chuckled to myself. I'm losing it, I thought. After all Pez had been through, I could still dream up an imaginary man. Shaking my head, I walked the few blocks to the subway.
Weirdly enough, I thought I saw him again on the short ride home. I happened to look up, and in the next car, he watched me. I frowned, shaking my head, but when I looked back he was gone.
He was tall. A bit over 6 feet I estimated, but in my imagination, he would be. I like tall men. I also like dark hair, sort of a 'bad boy' type, and if I was going to dream up a fantasy that turned up at the strangest times, wouldn't it be one that pleased me? The old 'tall, dark and handsome', albeit elusive, lover. Over the next few nights, I began dreaming of him. Dreaming of his arms circling me, his mouth tender, sometimes cruel, but always ending with soft kisses. More than one morning, I awoke feeling like a lover had stolen in on me in the dark, always wanting more, just a bit more. Then there was the time I woke in the middle of the night, my body on fire. I sat up, sure there was someone there, but the room was silent. I lay awake that night, having no choice but to use my own hands to finish the task my vivid imagination had started. When at last my tensions released, was there another's sigh mingling with mine? Again, I listened, but there was only the wind outside. I fell into a deep sleep, waking groggily to the damnable alarm.
I showered quickly, got myself dressed and off to work. Parking in the lot across from my job, I saw again the shadowy figure. Shaking my head and smiling, I looked at the office building I had to enter, and when I turned back, he was gone. I locked the car and crossed the street, figuring it was high time to start looking for either a new boyfriend, or a good shrink.
I wound up staying late that day. The new computer software caused a few of us to crash, and of course, I was the last one to get service. Just 'cos I'm single, with no kids, the stupid company thinks my life is theirs, and I was forced to wait while the tech worked on my terminal. Finally, at almost 7 o'clock, I was able to log out and leave.
Dusk was falling. It must have been a gorgeous day, I thought as I left the office. I had my coat over my arm, as I breathed in the sweet smell of fresh air. Walking to the curb, I felt a presence behind me, and turned to see my shadowy secret peering from the corner of the building. I closed my eyes for a moment and shook my head, but this time, when I turned back, he was still there, his eyes watching me. Keeping the contact, I slowly walked to him, and was relieved when it turned out he was real. I could see the doubt in his eyes as I neared, as if he wanted to turn and bolt from sight, but the look in my own eyes begged him, stay this time, please.
I went closer, wanting this to be more than imagination. He stood so straight and still, his hands behind his back, allowing me to approach until I stood in front of him, our eyes locked.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"Ian," he answered in a soft voice.
I looked closely at him. His hair was pulled back tightly, and I wondered what it would look like if allowed to fall free. I stared up into deep brown eyes, and of it's own accord, my hand came up to touch the bearded cheek. He never moved as the back of my fingers made contact. So mysterious, I thought.
"But who are you?" I asked again.
His eyes never left mine, but the hint of a smile played his lips.
"Ian," he repeated.
"Ian who?"
"Nottingham. Ian Nottingham."
He looked at me as if he expected me to recognize the name, and for a moment my mind raced. Do I know him? I didn't think so, but at this point, the curiosity was killing me.
"Would you like to get something to eat?" was all I could think to ask.
Again, that hint of a smile.
"Are you offering? Will you make dinner for me?"
I looked closely. His attire was not that of a man down on his luck. While dressed all in black, I could tell the clothing was well cut and not cheap. His voice was cultured, each word spoken in a soft tone. It seemed to please him that I thought carefully before answering.
"I suppose I could make you dinner. Anything special?"
"Not really," he answered. "As long as the meal is followed with something sweet."
My eyes narrowed at his words. He was certainly the most gorgeous creature, I thought, as again my hand reached up to touch his face. I just had to be sure that he was real. And now, I was going to cook dinner, plus be expected to have dessert! Strange, I thought. I looked behind me at my car, not sure if he wanted me to give him a ride, perhaps he had his own. Not sure of how to proceed from here, I turned back to ask, and he was gone.
I looked around frantically. Surely this was not just my imagination running wild! A solid form, here one minute, then vanished the next. I reached out to steady myself against the wall as the shock washed over me. I looked at my hand, still able to feel the texture of the beard my fingers had brushed over. My eyes searched everywhere, but there was no sign of another person. I straightened my shoulders, turned, and walked across the street to my car, resigning myself to the fact that I was insane.
I almost fell into my car. My mind raced frantically as I turned the key and started the engine. Just how nuts was I? I thought. Again, I looked at my fingers, still able to feel the hair that bearded his cheek, still hearing the voice that spoke to me. I looked around, begging for the sight of him, but I was alone except for a few passers by. My hands shook as I put the car in gear and began the drive home. Was I so lonely that I had to imagine a lover? Granted, my last breakup was hard on me, almost 6 months had gone by, the time needed for healing, but how desperate was I for a man? My head was filled with thoughts of the psychiatric care I would need for this one as I drove. I kept looking in the rearview mirror, hoping to see a car following me, but there was none.
By the time I pulled into my driveway, I was almost laughing to myself. So I was nuts, I thought. I'm not hurting anyone, am I? And so what if I have an imaginary man in my life. It could be worse. I laughed out loud as the thought came to me. I could have a whole team of imaginary men, one for each day of the week! I grabbed my coat and bag, and went into the house.
I locked the door behind me and went to my bedroom, pulling the pins from my hair as I went. I loved shaking my hair free at the end of the day, feeling the weight of it fall from the clips or pins holding it. I began taking off the hated suit I wore, replacing it with a pair of jeans, leaving the soft cotton shirt untucked as I padded barefoot to the kitchen. He wanted me to cook for him, did he? I laughed again as I opened the fridge, deciding to make a nice, almost elaborate dinner, one that I would eat alone. Maybe I could imagine him back and we could talk while I ate, I thought. And think of how inexpensive a date he would be! After all, imaginary friends don't really eat anything. This could work out!
I busied myself, chopping fresh veggies, slicing the chicken breast as I made a quick stir fry. The rice was merrily cooking away, and I lost myself in the tasks I performed. I enjoyed cooking, watching my efforts turn into meals that my friends told me were imaginative and tasty. I liked trying new flavors, even though most of my cooking these days was fast and ordinary. Cooking for one was not something I liked, but hey, tonight my imaginary friend would be joining me! Again, I laughed at the thought, figuring it was high time for a good vacation.
