As he inched closer, I could see his expression under the moonlight. He was smiling. He seemed friendly.But then again, Ted Bundy was a friendly fellow too apparently.
“Hey, there you are,” he kneeled next to his dog and scratched his neck. “You gotta stop running away, fella.”
He glanced up at me. “He’s just a puppy still,” he explained. “I still don’t have him under control.”
I was at a loss for words, still frozen.
He turned his gaze to the dog. “Kids will be kids, I guess.”
“True,” I said.
He looked up at me and extended his hand. “I’m Gavin, by the way.”
I shook his hand. I wondered if he could tell mine was trembling. Up close, he looked different. From afar, I had noticed the basics; he was a big man, taller than my dad who was six feet tall. He was scruffy and unshaven. Dad called him ‘Dirty Foster’.
But from this close, I could finally see the warm brown eyes and the wide friendly smile, perfect teeth and a dimple on his right cheek. He was handsome in an older man kind of way.
“Nice to meet you,” I said quietly.
“Magnum’s been coming over to visit a lot?” he asked.
“A few times this past week,” I told him. “We’re friends.” And Lord knew, I needed a friend. Magnum and Izzie were my only friends. And Izzie was often too busy for me. And she had a bad habit of changing the subject whenever I started to confide in her. It always had to be about her. Magnum, on the other hand, was a very good listener.
“Well, let me know if he bothers you.”
“He doesn’t bother me at all,” I was quick to say. “I like it when he comes over.”
“Good then.” He studied me for a long beat. “What are you doing out this late? The bugs are eating you alive.”
“I’m used to them.”
“But wouldn’t you rather be inside? It’s cold out.”
“It’s better than being around my dad,” I replied and instantly regretted my words. I felt like I was betraying my father.
“Oh, I know that feeling,” Gavin said. “My dad was a dick too.”
I smiled.
He smiled.
He inched closer, so close, his face was a mere three inches from mine. I started to panic.
“God, they got you good right on the eye. You’re bleeding.”
I brought my hand up. “Which one?”
He pointed. “That one, right below.”
Sure enough, I swiped the pad of my finger under my eye and it was tender. My finger was bloody.
“You better get inside. Those black flies are evil little buggers.”
“I probably should.”
We both stood to leave, and he waved as he started to walk away. “Oh wait…” he said.
My head flipped around.
