Ыоуве Been Warned   ::   Patterson James

Including the nutcase on the corner directly across the street from me.

He’s an old man wearing sunglasses and a long gray beard practically down to his belt. He’s pacing back and forth, carrying a sign like in the classic cartoons. Only instead of “The End Is Near,” his reads, “The End Is Just the Beginning.” His take on the Resurrection, I guess.

Yeah, I get it -I’ve been warned.

As I cross the street and pass him, I can’t help shaking my head. How does a person become so disconnected from the rest of the world?

“Be afraid, Kristin.”

Huh?

I stop dead in my tracks, turning back toward the man. “How do you know my name?”

“I just know it.”

I take a few steps closer. I’m about a foot from his face. He’s definitely there. He’s real. “I said, How do you know my name? ”

“It’s not too late, Kristin,” he says. His voice is raspy, raw, a little scary on its own.

He tries to turn away, and I grab his shoulder. “Wait. What are you talking about?”

Silence from him now. What – have I offended Mr. ZZ Top?

“Tell me!” I insist.

He smiles, flashing a mouth of the most rotted, brown teeth I’ve ever seen. But I don’t back away.

“Do I know you?” I ask.

Reaching up, he removes his sunglasses, and I gasp. Now I back up a step. One of his eyes is missing. There’s nothing there but a dark hole that seems to disappear into his head. Is that possible? I almost expect worms or slimy white maggots to crawl out.

“Not yet,” he answers. “But soon you will. When you figure out your life.”

He puts his shades back on, nods, and then turns away.



Chapter 43



I’M TREMBLING AS the bearded, one-eyed joker walks off down the street. It’s officially a toss-up now. Where is it more surreal? Inside my apartment or out here?

Hailing a cab, I decide being in my apartment might not be so bad anymore. Perhaps a nice, quiet evening at home will help calm the nerves. Then maybe I can figure this out, though I seriously doubt it.

In fifteen minutes, I’m there.

I begin with a superhot bath, the kind you need to ease your body into an inch at a time. I even add some herbal salts that Connie gave me for my birthday last year. “Soothing Citrus,” says the label.

After lingering in the tub until I’m “Wrinkled Prune,” I towel off, climb into my comfy terry cloth robe, and force myself to dial up some Chinese – sesame chicken and vegetable fried rice, my standard order. No MSG, please.