17
Stacy
“Chuck, do you have a moment?” I ask him, stepping inside his office and closing the door behind me.
“Stacy? What’s up? How can I help you?” Chuck gets up and walks around his desk, his bald head shining under his office lights.
“Yes, uh, I think… I think I need some help,” I mutter, not really knowing where to start. Chuck just waves at the chair in front of his desk, and then walks back to his own, sinking down onto it.
“Sure, what’s up?”
“Can you track someone for me?” I ask him, balling my hands into fists and looking straight into his eyes. It has come to this.
I remember it as if it happened just minutes ago. The roar of an engine, the screeching sound of brakes, and then a thump so dry and vicious that I almost thought my heart had exploded inside my chest. I saw Sanders rolling over the car as if he was weightless, his strong frame and muscles useless against a four-wheeled opponent.
A fraction of a second before all that happened, all I remember is feeling his hands on me, and then I toppled over to the side as he assumed my position in front of the speeding taxi. I would be dead now if he hadn’t pushed me out of the way. And how did I thank him? I ran, I ran as fast as I could.
I only stopped when Erica grabbed me by the wrist, her face drenched in sweat as she struggled for air. I took deep and wild breaths, feeling the burn in my lungs and the adrenaline in my veins, and only then do I feel that thought sinking in: he saved my life. He saved my life and I abandoned him.
I tried to do the right thing, though. I ambled back to the 51st Street, looking for the place where an ambulance should be, but there was none of that to be found. The traffic seemed normal and, aside from a few pieces of broken glass in the middle of the road, you wouldn’t guess that someone had been ran over just minutes ago.
I went home that day still clutching the envelope in my hands. I didn’t - and still don’t - understand why Sanders felt the need to spy on me. But, even if he was a stalker, he didn’t deserve to be abandoned like that after saving my life.
I’m better than that.
I tried to fix my mistake by calling every hospital in the metropolitan area, but no luck there - Sanders vanished into the ether that day. And you know what’s crazy? Despite realizing that I didn’t know the kind of person he truly was, I still miss him. Despite his secrets, I still believe there was goodness in him. I just wish that, at the very least, I’d allow him to explain. Instead, I ran like a frightened little girl, and now I don’t even know if he’s alive anymore.
That’s why I’m in Chuck’s office right now. He’s the head of security at the Saturday Night Laughs, and if there’s someone that can help him, it’s him.
“I can try,” Chuck says, and I find myself once again in his office, the memories fading away around me. It seems that every time I remember the incident that I forget about my surroundings. This is no way to live. “Who do you want me to look for?” He continues, trying to jolt me out of my silence.
“I, uh… I met a man,” I start, and I find that the words flow out of me more easily than I expected. I guess it’s truth - it helps to put it all out there. I tell Chuck the story right from the beginning, telling him all about how I met Sanders and how our relationship progressed (and don’t worry, I omitted all the sordid details, of course). He lets me speak uninterruptedly, nodding at key points in the story, and then he leans back against his chair and lets out a heavy sigh as I tell him about the accident, the last time I ever saw Sanders.
“That’s quite a story, Stacy,” he whistles in a preoccupied tone, looking right into my eyes.
“Please, I just need to know if he’s okay,” I manage to say after taking two deep breaths to calm myself. Relieving everything has me on the verge of tears, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to start crying.
“I guess we can see about that, yeah,” Chuck replies, rubbing his chin and looking down at his desk, deep in thought.
“I… I just wish I could go back in time and stay. I shouldn’t have run. I shouldn’t have left him there,” I continue to speak, the words now coming out of my mouth before I can even stop them.
“I know, Stacy.” He gets up from his desk, and he’s about to say something when I cut him short.
“Just promise me one thing, Chuck… If you find him, I don’t want him to get into trouble. I don’t know why he was stalking me, but… I don’t want to hurt him, Chuck, okay? I just want to make sure he’s okay.”
“Okay, Stacy, that’s a promise,” Chuck nods, and then he offers me his hand and a smile. I look at him, slightly confused, but then accept his hand and he pulls me up to my feet.
“Come with me, there’s something I have to show you.” My reply is a simple nod, and then I follow him through the studio all th
e way to the lobby.
“Where are we going?” I ask him, curiosity starting to get the best of me.
“Why don’t you see for yourself?” He says, stopping right in front of the door to my dressing room. I look at him, completely confused, but he just smiles and waves at the closed door. Hesitant, I reach for the handle and push the door open.
“It’s been a while,” Sanders says, and I almost pass out as I see him standing there.
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