"Okay sweetie. I'll be there so quickly, you might even catch me flying. Stay away from the stove, leave Harry's poop for me to clean up, and don't call your mom, okay?"
"Okay! Do you have wings?"
"Oh, I can't tell you, you know that! You'll just have to keep an eye on the window, see what you can see."
"Okay!"
I scrambled out of the cab and found Annie sitting on her bed crying. Lyall was running back and forth in her room, flailing her toy truck over his head. It was an hour an a half before everyone got settled in and the dog shit cleaned up. I made the kids promise they wouldn't tell their mother I had been late, and took them to the water park as a thank you treat. Sitting on the bench with their towels and watching them scream, running through the jets of water, I finally let my thoughts drift to the missing hours that came after the failed date I had with Theo. I had gone outside with him when he complained of a headache, and then....I had very few memories after that. My mind seemed to just go blank until I came to my less than enthusiastic wake up this morning. Fuck, I though. Did he date-rape me? I certainly felt like a powerful drug had knocked my entire body out--the achyness of my joints and the way the whole world felt as if it were 2 seconds behind me each time I moved my head was reminiscent of some of my more regrettable experiments in college. I sighed deeply and made a mental note to head to the Planned Parenthood for STI testing, silently thanking my parent's insurance for still covering my birth control.
I was taking the kids to their piano lessons a few weeks later, trying to convince Lyall that they could not bring the puppy in to their teacher's apartment. I left the puppy with the obliging doorman, and shepherded all the kids up into the elevator. Ever since that night my body had been feeling better and better, but I couldn't help but feel like I was missing something. The clinic had called and told me I was clean as a whistle, so nothing to worry about there, but I couldn't help but continue to be unsettled by those absent hours. Even more than that, I felt like I was being watched. My comfortable anonymity in the city had disappeared, and now I felt like people were noticing me everywhere I went, making eye contact with me, and reappearing disturbingly frequently around my house. I'm just getting to know the neighborhood, I told myself, but I had never been a very good liar. These people didn't look like the people who lived near me. They were tall, gorgeous, and they seemed to shimmer under the streetlamps. It wasn't something you could really pin down, but the light seemed to move about them like they were surrounded by tiny mirrors or prisms, or perhaps as if they themselves were a prism, bending the light around their bodies instead of it reflecting off them.
Ellen knocked politely on the door and it swept open silently, letting a puff of incense out. It was a trial every week at piano lessons--the kids were more interested in the teacher than the piano. Her name was Anya. She always kept the blinds shut and used low dim lamps scattered about the one room apartment. Most of the space was taken up by her piano, and the rest by her bed. She had pillows everywhere, dried flowers, framed photographs of herself with various famous musicians and actors, and scented candles. She acted like an old woman, but had the face of a goddess, soft, sweet, and keen. Her temper often flared up and her goddess-ness truly came out then, her face becoming hard and smooth, her eyes fiery and focused. She reminded me of Hera, Zeus' ever-vengeful wife in Roman mythology.
Usually she would sweep us all into the apartment in a puff of smoke and the tails of her kimono sleeves, but this time she stopped and looked at me. We made continuous eye contact for about 20 seconds before she looked away, smiling and the children and ushering us in. I was quite unsettled. What was it about people and making eye contact with me these days? Never before had she really even bothered to acknowledge me except for when I handed her the check. I settled on the stiff oriental carpet with the children as they got up one by one to have their lessons at the baby grand piano. After all three had plunked their way through the songs they had practiced, she turned to me.
"Lana, my dear. I say there is something we need to discuss about my upcoming vacation. I trust you will be able to relay this information to your employer?"
I nodded, curious and nervous. She took me by my elbow to the corner of the room while the children fought over the stuffed animal Annie had brought with. Anya looked straight into my eyes and whispered, "Who was it?"
I had no idea what she meant, and pulled my arm out of her grasp, shaking my head an furrowing my brow. "Who was what?"
"Who marked you?" She asked, leaning closer to me as her eyes began to shine.
"Honestly, I don't know what you're talking about, Anya. Marked me? What does that mean?"
"Are you kidding me girl? You still reek of him, whomever it was. And look--" she reached out and yanked down my shirt collar. She moved so I had a clear view of myself in the mirror over her bureau. "Look at that brand--clear as day." There, above where her cool fingers pressed into my collarbone, were two faint scars. Two milky white half circles about an inch and a half apart.
"I--I've never seen those before." I leaned closer to the mirror, touching them gingerly.
"You've got to be joking. You can't get marked like that without knowing the person intimately. I mean, you belong to whomever it is now. They can feel you at all times."
"What on earth are you talking about? I'm sorry Anya, but you're not making any sense. And I believe I have to go."
"Okay, well just tell me this. Have you had any blackouts recently? Any missing hours or days?"
"Well--I--"
"How long was it?" She asked immediately, not even waiting for me to fabricate some sort of a lie.
"From about 8:30 the other night until 8 the next morning."
Anya nodded, opening her mouth to keep speaking, but suddenly Annie was crying, and it was time to go. I gathered up the kids belongings and was about to leave when Anya caught my arm again.
"We need to talk more. When do you get off work?"
"Uh--at 7. Why do we need to talk?"
She released my arm and opened the door for us. The kids immediately bounded through and over toward the elevator. "I'll meet you outside their apartment when you get off," Anya whispered, and shut the door behind me. Absolutely confused I hopped into the elevator, quickly plastering a smile on my face and complimenting the children on how well they had behaved.
That evening as I left their apartment, Anya was standing across the street waiting for me as promised. I walked over to meet her, confused, slightly annoyed at the secrecy of this whole mystery, but deeply curious nonetheless. How had I not noticed those scars on my neck? Where did they come from? And how had Anya known they were there? She took me down the block and into an air conditioned cafe, saying nothing the whole time. When we were settled she finally looked at me, her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed together.
