Last Dance with Mary Jane

Margot bent over to pull her running shoes on. They were, perhaps, one of her best finds. Light weight, wide toe box, cushioned support in the heel. When she laced the shoes, she felt a poignant sense of achievement for having found these shoes in a sea of shoes upon shoes upon shoes. They weren't the first or last shoes she tried but somewhere in the middle. She knew as soon as she tried them they were perfect, but, still, she persisted in trying on more shoes before coming back around to settle on perfection. A woman could go a lifetime and never find the perfect shoe. She was buoyed by the experience, thinking she could find the perfect heels, loafers, boots…whatever…because she had found the perfect running shoe. She was no fool, though, and knew the good fortune for what it was.

Margot tugged on the hat her mother knitted for her. The conversation between them had gone something like this:

"I made you a hat. You're always outside, and do you know just how much heat escapes from your head?"

Margot shook her head, all the time knowing exactly how much heat escaped from her head; but it gave her mother so much pleasure to worry over her, and Margot's heart overflowed with sugary sweetness and love for the woman, conceding she couldn't rob her mother of these tiniest ounces of worry she seemed bent on expressing.

Margot's mother frowned. Her gaze trained on Margot with intent."Well, it's almost all the heat. You need a hat."

Margot patted the hat into place, then stretched before she started her run. Once she hit the road, she focused on the rhythm of her breathing—two short inhales, followed by a long exhale. She read articles about breathing, foot placement, and stride length, and she didn't subscribe to 'best practices,' because her own practices served her well. She would never win a race, but she ran purely for fitness and the near meditative state she achieved when it was just Margot and being outdoors, seemingly alone in the world.

Margot liked to run in the evening. She felt there was something magical in the crisp breeze that cut through the night. In the summer, the breath of air was welcome and cooling, and in the fall, winter, and spring, the breeze became more of a chill, sometimes turning into a moderate wind that seemed to cut through her layers, pushing her to run harder and faster to get home as fast as she could.

She knew running at night deprived her of enjoying the sights of the burnished glow of the fall leaves painting her neighborhood, but she knew they were there, and their faint odor hung about her as she pounded her way up and down the street on her route. She made a point not to listen to music or audiobooks while she ran. Margot found she liked the sounds of her feet on the pavement and sidewalks, the rustling of the leaves in the trees, the chirps of the crickets, the hoots of the owls, along with the errant barks of the neighborhood dogs. Everything was wet this evening, the cool of the evening and the humidity could be cruel companions at this time of year.

Margot's feet slapped the ground, and the rhythm made her think of a Tom Petty song that sounded like 'boom-boom-whap' through the introduction. Was it "Last Dance with Mary Jane?" She wasn't sure and would take some time to listen to it when she finished her run.

She heard a second set of slaps on the pavement, which interrupted her thoughts. She turned her head one way to try to hear better, then she tried the other way. It seemed like the person was out for an evening run, just like Margot. The other runner seemed to be catching up to her. Ordinarily, another runner coming from behind would announce, "On your right," or "On your left." This runner was silent except for the sounds of rubber soles against wet sidewalks. Still, she increased her speed, and soon, the other runner's speed increased as well. Margot's adrenalin kicked in, and her breath became ragged. She felt sweat erupting from her hair follicles. Should she panic? Her brain and body thought she should, apparently.

Margot decided to let the other runner pass. She veered off the sidewalk onto a driveway and knelt to tie her shoe. The other runner stopped, too. He bent, bracing his hands on his quads. "Margot, is that you?" he asked.

"What?" she asked. "Who's that?" She tried to appear intent on retying her shoe.

"Margot! It is you!" he exclaimed. "It's me, Gary. We met at Julie's dinner party a few weeks ago."

Margot looked up, and sure enough, it was Gary. "Oh, hi there. Do you live around here?" She wanted to cut the conversation short because she had not liked Gary or his stare at all during Julie's party. His eyes had been focused on every part of her body throughout the evening, and she left feeling personally violated. He hadn't touched her physically until the end of the evening when everyone expressed thanks to Julie for hosting, and they all fared one another well. Margot recoiled when Gary hugged her. It lasted longer than necessary, and his hand wandered from her mid-back to the small of her back and was on a path to her ass. She didn't like it and pushed him away before his hand could reach its final destination. After the party, Margot called Julie and asked her not to give Gary her number.

"What if he asks?" Julie inquired.

"Tell him I have a boyfriend who couldn't make it to the party. I had to shimmy out of hugging him when he started trying to grab my butt." Margot sighed. "How did you meet that guy anyway?"

"He's new in Chuck's department at the bank." Chuck was Julie's husband.

"Does Chuck like him?" Margot asked.

"In the few weeks they've worked together, it turns out, Gary isn't too popular with anyone," Julie answered.

Margot's attention snapped back to the moment with Gary hunched over, gasping for breath. Margot stood up straight, shaking out her legs, now looking down at Gary.

"Funny thing," he said. "I just moved into a house four blocks from here last week."

"Wow. I had no idea you were looking to live this far north of downtown. At the party you mentioned you worked downtown with Chuck, right?" Margot asked.

"I wanted to buy something, and after meeting you and hearing how great it was in this part of town, I aimed my search this direction," Gary said between uneven breaths.

"Are you new to running?" Margot asked.

"I'm trying to get back into it. Can you tell from my breathing that I'm out of shape?" he asked.

"Kinda," Margot answered. "You know, I'm getting cold. I think I might cut my run short and head back home. I have a treadmill in my basement."

"Do you mind if I come along?" Gary asked. "I could really use the restroom. I think I over-hydrated." He attempted a self-deprecating laugh that came out sounding a little skeezy.

Margot didn't want Gary to know where she lived, but it was pointless. He must have figured it out since he was now on her running route. Margot had met many Gary's in her life, and she had dealt with them. This Gary wouldn't be any different. If she took care of the problem now, she might be able to get rid of him, and maybe if it didn't get too late, she could resume her run afterward.

Margot shrugged, and in a reticent manner said, "All right, I guess."

When they reached Margot's house, she stepped across her threshold and didn't bother to flip on the kitchen lights. "My guest bathroom is in the basement. I'm having some work done, and the main floor powder room is a construction zone right now. Wait here while I turn on the lights to the basement."

Gary didn't want to wait, though. He followed closely. She felt his breath on her neck, and everything about him caused her to want to flee, but here she was. And here he was. He pushed his body against hers as she made her way through the hallway that led to the door to her basement. She fought the urge to shudder. She didn't want Gary to know he had raised her hackles.

"Any bathroom will get the job done," Gary said.

Margot opened the door to her basement stairwell and turned on the lights. She extended an arm to Gary, indicating, 'right this way.'

"So, your treadmill is in your basement," Gary said conversationally. "That must come in handy in extreme weather."

Margot nodded, but Gary was walking down the steps in front of her and he couldn't see her response.

At the foot of the stairs, Margot said, "The bathroom is just there on the right." Gary clocked Margot's treadmill, and he saw the walled off area that she indicated was her guest bath. It was odd that the door had a small rectangular glass window at eye-height.

Gary commented on the window. He didn’t comment on the small dial or the control panel mounted just beneath a portrait of Margot and her family.

"Oh, I know. It's such a strange thing. It was like that when I bought the house, and I haven't bothered to buy and install a new door. I'll get to it one day," Margot said, and she meant for every word to sound disingenuous.

"No peeking," Gary said, entering the room and closing the door. Margot heard the lock snick when it was engaged. She pushed a chair under the doorknob, and then turned the dial nearly all the way up.

Margot hopped onto her treadmill, and pulled on noise canceling headphones. She turned on the television, and within two minutes she was on a sylvan path, then on a sandy beach. At mile three, she paused her run to grab a bottle of water. She saw Gary's red, sweaty face in the rectangular window. He banged on the door. She could see the door jiggling in the frame. Alarmed, Margot found a combination lock that she'd bought for her locker at her old gym, but there was nothing to attach the lock to the door. She found her bike lock. She could wrap the bike lock chain around the the doorknob and the leg of her dad's old recliner if she moved it.

"Gary, I forgot to tell you I don't have a bathroom down here yet, but I do have a sauna. Infrared. It's from Sweden. I love to have a good sweat after a long run. I drink tons of water and sweating flushes all the toxins out of my body. It's so refreshing," Margot gushed.

Margot paused and made eye contact with Gary. "Are you not enjoying the sauna?"

Margot pushed the recliner close to the door and looped the chain and lock around everything. She saw Gary's lips moving as he continued to expend energy. He could have been yelling for hell, help, or hello. Margot wasn't very adept at reading lips. He didn't seem happy, though. After moving the recliner into position, Margot stood back to admire her work. Once she called it good, she returned to her treadmill and found herself running up a hiking path toward a mountain summit. She caught the runner's high around mile six then remembered she hadn't gotten a bottle of water. She stood in front of the sauna door. Gary wasn't standing in front of the window now. She climbed on top of the recliner to look in. He was seated on the bench, and he had begun to turn a deep shade of purple. She saw sweat, and did she also see tears?

She removed her headphones and gave a tap on the window. Gary mouthed the word, 'bitch,' and he gave her the finger. He had removed his shirt, and Margot noted that womankind wasn't missing anything. He had also removed his shoes and placed them next to him on the bench. Margot looked at the temperature on the sauna thermostat. She could still turn it up a little more. Since Gary had called her a bitch, she thought he could stand some more heat.

Margot ran upstairs to call her mother, and the two of them chatted about the lovely change of season and how the trees were really turning it on this year.

"Margot, honey," her mother said. "I worry about you doing all that running at night. There have been some disappearances in your neck of the woods. All young women. You just can't be too careful. Are you being careful?"

"I do everything I can, Mom. Everything I can."

Margot vacuumed her family room and living room, loaded the dishwasher, and dusted her piano before returning to the basement.

Gary was lying naked on the bench. Margot wouldn't soon forget seeing Gary's pasty thighs and flaccid member which appeared to be attached to his leg by the sheer strength of all the sweat. His eyes were closed.

Margot tapped on the window. Gary's eyes flew open, and he glared at her with pure hatred. Margot gave a little finger wave, and Gary responded by grabbing his dick and pumping it a few times. She was surprised he could get it up, given his dire situation.

"You hated me before, Gary, by the way you stared at me, touched me, and made your way into my house. Now you're just being honest in showing me your hatred," she whispered.

Gary couldn't read lips, but he still had enough gumption to mouth 'cunt.'

"Oooh. The C-word," Margot said, somewhat awed.

Margot had begun to binge "The Office" earlier in the week. She returned to her family room to resume her viewing and fell asleep on the couch. "Oopsies," she said when she awoke and gave a Sun Salutation. "I'd better go check on Gary."

She climbed onto the recliner again, and there he was—sprawled half on and off the bench, eyes open and framed with blood vessels, no moisture shining. "I guess we're done here."

Several days later, Gary's abandoned car was found down the street. He hadn't bought a house four blocks away, not even fourteen blocks away. He was a liar.

There were photos of Margot in the glove box, under the front passenger seat, and littering the back seat and floor. There was a small journal under the driver's seat where Gary had been detailing Margot's movements. The police came to Margot's door, and Margot agreed to having met Gary at a dinner party but hadn't seen him since. She didn't mention the desiccated corpse in her basement.

"Ma'am," the officer said, "I think this guy was stalking you. He may have gotten spooked and run off or something or boosted another car. He had a bag of zip ties in his glove box, too. I think you may have dodged a bullet. We dusted his car for fingerprints and have a positive match to prints found in the homes of several young women in the area who have gone missing."

Margot's shocked expression and silence prompted the police officer to continue. "You can't be too cautious these days, I'm afraid to say. You be careful."

"I will," Margot whispered, closing the door when the officer turned to leave.