Chapter 13
Now, as he drove down the highway to look for another phone booth, with the pot still relaxing his body and his mind, he suddenly realized that he had wanted something from those two girls, Karen and Molly...he had wanted something more than just the sex...he had wanted to feel something for them and he had wanted them to return his feelings. Sex with them wasn't enough...it was very nice...but it left him feeling a little empty and unsatisfied. But they didn't want anything except the casual, carefree pleasures...they didn't know how to give anything else.
Suddenly, an enormous wave of feeling swept up through him, a longing that he had never recognized before, and with it came a realization that sent uncontrollable shivering throughout his body.
He wanted to love someone!
It sounded so absurd that he began to laugh. He laughed so hard that the tears streamed down his face and he had to pull over to the side of the road and stop the car. As the laughter subsided he sat quietly, not thinking of anything, dreaming almost, when, suddenly, he remembered the thought he had just had and he burst out laughing again.
Only this time he was crying as much as laughing. He realized that he was being hysterical and that he couldn't do anything about it, so he let it happen.
He sat quietly for a second time. He felt drained; he tried to think of what had just happened, but he couldn't. There was nothing in his head except the realization that he had to see Cindy again...that he wanted to see Cindy again. Now, sitting calmly in his car, the motor still running, the soft summer breeze blowing in through the window, it no longer seemed stupid or absurd that he might want to love someone. No, it wasn't absurd...but he didn't know...it was something he couldn't know until he saw Cindy. Now, it was just a feeling he had, vague and ill-defined. And yet it wasn't vague...only when he tried to think about it or think about putting it into words was it vague and slippery...then it seemed nothing and he felt foolish. It was something that Cindy would understand; they would both understand. He took a deep breath and started down the highway until he found a phone booth.
He dialed her number and waited, holding his breath. But no answer. He put the phone down without hanging up, listening to the steady monotonous ringing on the other end. She had to be home...but she wasn't. He stared out through the plate-glass window of the phone booth, letting the phone ring. He opened the door and breathed deeply of the fragrant summer air; the steady brrrr...brrrr behind him was a constant reminder that he would have to decide what to do.
There was something deep in the back of his mind that he didn't want to think about.
He hung up, and with nervous fingers, dialed Alex's number. But before it rang, he hung up. What was it that was bothering him? So many things were happening, so many things had happened, that it was hard to think clearly. Why wasn't Cindy home? Of course maybe he was worrying about nothing...but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He looked at his watch: four in the morning...he was going to feel foolish about waking Alex if nothing was wrong. But he dialed anyway.
"Hello Alex, it's Paul. Sorry to wake you."
"Paul? What's the matter?"
"I don't know, Alex, I've been trying to call Cindy but she isn't home. What...."
"Hold on a minute Paul." Alex put the phone down. Paul could hear a conversation going on and then Alex picked up the phone again.
"Yeah, well Paul, I...."
What was wrong! Why didn't Alex say something!
"All I know, Paul, is that Al...well, he was seen in town near Cindy's place. But don't worry...the police will get him...he wouldn't do anything...."
Paul hung up slowly; he could feel the fear tighten in his chest. He slammed his fist down hard on the metal shelf of the phone booth. Al! He'd kill that bastard if he had hurt Cindy.
He raced back to his car, his mind screaming at him to get back to the city as quickly as he could.
As he sped along the highway, he began to relax a little. There was still no way of knowing for sure if anything was wrong. Cindy might be at his place waiting for him; and suddenly he realized that he could have called...but now, now he didn't want to...he didn't want to hear the phone ringing...unanswered.
He tried to remember Al...but it was so long ago. He did remember the hate in his eyes, the crazy burning hate as he had accused Paul of killing his sister. With a terrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Paul realized that Al was capable of doing something to hurt him...something to Cindy. An awful feeling of doom swept through him, as if something he had wanted all his life, something that was now almost his, was about to be taken away from him. He shuddered.
He tried to think of why Cindy might not be home, but he couldn't. She didn't go out much. He pushed the car faster and faster and tried not to think about anything.
He was almost exhausted as he pulled up in front of his apartment. There were no lights on and he knew somehow that she wouldn't be there.
"Cindy!"
No answer. He opened the front door and called her name again.
But she was not there to answer him. He checked the rest of the rooms, but they were empty.
He stood in the middle of the living room, in the false dawn of early morning, feeling tired and dull. He walked into the bathroom and splashed some cold water on his face.
The only thing to do now was to go over to her place...and wait. And if she didn't show up he would have to go looking for her. He took two more benzedrine tablets and waited a few minutes for the pills to start working before once again going outside.
He drove more slowly now; there wasn't as much reason to hurry. Or maybe he was just too tired.
There was a light on in the apartment! He hurried up the steps and rang the bell. He was about to ring again when he noticed that the door was slightly ajar; he pushed it open and walked inside. But Cindy's apartment, too, was empty.
He sat down wearily in a chair and rubbed his face. Then he saw the note, propped up against the lamp. As he read the large childish handwriting, which told him bluntly what would happen to Cindy if he didn't show up, he felt his anger mounting, rising, until he thought he would choke.
"Al." He said the name aloud and his voice seemed to echo through the empty apartment.
He sat for a moment, read the note again, then crumpled it up and mechanically dropped it into his pocket. He walked to the window; the sun was just coming up. He wasn't tired now. He watched as two birds seemed to float down through the air to land softly on a branch.
His first impulse had been to rush to the cabin. But now, thinking about it, he decided it would be wiser to wait. He knew Al was waiting for him...to kill him probably...and so he had to outsmart him. He would go up, have a look around and then wait until it was dark before he made his move. That settled, he sat down in the chair to rest.