Chapter 121
"It's true," I said, holding onto his hand, "We both played in this park and went to the same schools."
"You remember the magician everyone hired for their kids' birthdays? The one that accidentally hit Charlie with his 'magic wand'?"
"What?! What does that even mean? No, I don't remember a magician," And I didn't ask about his magic wand.
"Oh!" I perked up, "Do you remember the ice cream truck that used to park here every day in the summer? That strawberry cream ice cream was so good."
"Yeah, I remember that," Zenon squeezed my hand, "My sister made me buy her weed from that guy."
My face fell. "Ice cream Al was a dealer?"
Like a sledgehammer, he was just destroying my childhood memories.
Seeing my crushed expression, Zenon said, "Let's not play this game anymore."
He leant down and kissed me comfortingly. There is peace in ignorance.
We returned to the car and drove the last few minutes to our street. Dupont Avenue.
We lived in a very sleepy neighborhood and there was barely another car on the road. He took us to our homes and parked on my side of the street. This time, when we arrived, it wasn't the usual goodbye.
He switched off the ignition, turned to me and with his charismatic smile, asked, "Your place or mine?"
I blinked.
"Both."
"Uh..." Zenon looked confused, "Ok?"
"As in," I explained, "you go to your place and I go to mine."
I bet he didn't expect that.
Mr I'm-too-hot-for-a-daytime-fantasy. Zenon's blue eyes froze on me.
I guess I'm going to have to explain that.
Bluntly, I said, "I'm not ready for sex."
A very awkward silence followed. I really stuck my foot in it this time. Well, let's not pretend. I stick my foot in it most times.
I braced myself. My explanations usually make things worse but here goes, "I don't want to give you any mixed signals and I don't want to feel pressure to do the-"
Zenon predicted my next words, "You're going to use some weird way to say sex now."
"Do the naughty," I finished. "But I was deciding between that or knocking boots."
"Both are wrong," he rested his head against his hand, "But thank you for your honesty."
I laughed. I couldn't help myself and he smiled reluctantly.
"I wasn't trying to go there," Zenon said seriously, "I wanted to hang out more with you. And maybe make out some more."
"But no pressure," I repeated. I really wanted to make that clear. He had a reputation of sleeping with a few girls already – heck, I'd even seen him the morning after while we were at summer camp.
And that just wasn't going to be me.
"We've only been dating for a week," I reminded him, "But it's been a good week."
"One hell of a week," he smiled and unlocked the doors for me, "OK, Candy. I'll see you tomorrow. Sweet dreams."
It's only 7PM but I'll let that one slide.
"Goodnight Zenon," I smiled back, kissing his soft lips, before jumping out of the car.
He rolled the windows down after I left and was about to drive across the street, when I stopped him. "Why d'you keep the windows up while I was in the car?"
Random question I know, but I've gotten used to Zenon's driving and he usually likes the windows down.
"I don't want a wasp flying in and stinging you again," he winked. "You know your luck, Candy."
Yeah and it's god damn terrible.
I had butterflies in my stomach when I came home. I've started to get familiar with them. The butterflies come after I spend time alone with Zenon.
"Hey Heidi," I waved to my sister as I walked up the stairs to my bedroom. She didn't even look up.
He makes me smile. We joke and then we talk seriously. Our relationship is maturing, I realized. When we first met, we had chemistry built around mocking each other. Now we also build each other up.
But a good mocking doesn't go unappreciated.
I arrived on the second floor and froze in my footsteps. Too stunned to move.
My backpack slipped off my shoulders and crashed on the floor next to my feet.
I was three feet from my bedroom door.
It was shut.
But there was a basketball jersey hanging on the doorknob and it was dripping in blood.
I don't understand.
My life went from rom com to horror in five seconds flat.
It started as a romantic afternoon with Zenon. We were kissing and reminiscing about our childhoods and Al the ice cream truck driver. Now the only ice cream I see in my future is when I-scream.
OK, this is not the time for jokes Candace, I scolded myself.
I may be going crazy. Or I may already be crazy... That would explain so much.
I squeezed my eyes shut, counted to three, and opened them again.
Bloody jersey still there.
So I'm not hallucinating.
Damn.
I was frozen in the hallway. My bag had slipped from my shoulders and landed with a thud next to my feet. This was a real situation. I'm not dreaming, I'm not hallucinating. This is real.
My eyes zoned in on the jersey. It was scrunched up and hanging over my brass doorknob. Blood dripped from the shirt to the carpet like teardrops.
I could recognize the basketball jersey as one from our school team – I've seen Zenon in it enough times to recognize it.
"Breathe," I told myself, speaking out loud now.
Now that reality was the only option, I realized just how long it takes me to react. I mean, my reflexes have never been my strong suit.
I forced out all the scary thoughts. The whose blood is this? Is someone hurt? Is someone about to hurt me?