apologize—”
“And you asked about me and my little boy?” she pressed, a sharp edge in her tone. “Do you know how creepy that is? Are you following me around?”
His back against the vending machine, Ben glanced at the other students in the hallway. Hannah now noticed a few of them staring.
Ben shook his head at her. “No, I’m not following you around.”
She didn’t believe him. She stared into those cold blue eyes of his. “You’re lying,” she whispered. “I can tell. Listen, I don’t know what you want or what kind of game you’re playing. But you need to leave me alone.”
He let out a little laugh, and kept shaking his head.
“Understand?” she said loudly. “Leave me alone!”
She ran back into the classroom, and grabbed her coat.
Sitting on the edge of his desk, Paul glanced up from the Film Comment magazine he was reading. “Hannah? What’s wrong?”
Ignoring him, she hurried out to the corridor, then down the stairwell. She didn’t look back at Ben Sturges—or at the others who were staring at her. She just kept running.
He didn’t follow Hannah home from the community college. But he came by her apartment building around ten-thirty that night. From the parking lot of a neighboring building, he had a good view of her door and the living-room window. For nearly an hour, he watched. It was a beautiful, unseasonably warm night, with a smell in the air of impending rain. Her windows were open. From the flickering light inside, he could tell she was watching TV.
Her door opened. He hadn’t expected her to be stepping out at this time of night. Hannah came out to the balcony walkway for a minute. She retreated back inside, then reemerged with a straight-back chair and a glass of wine. She wasn’t going anywhere after all. She sat down, gazed out at the Space Needle, and sipped her wine. He saw her wipe her eyes several times, and he realized she was crying.
It began to rain, yet he remained, hiding behind a minivan in the lot. For a moment he thought she’d noticed him, but it was a false alarm. Around midnight, she finally went back inside, taking her chair and wineglass.
Ben stayed until he saw the light go out in her window.
He caught the bus back to his studio apartment in one of the seedier neighborhoods of town. His place was on the first floor. The iron bars somewhat defeated the purpose of his large picture window, but it didn’t matter. He had a view of a dumpster, an abandoned car, and the dirty street.
Ben didn’t bother turning on the light. He flopped down on the daybed sofa, which wasn’t so bad. The place came furnished—early fire-sale stuff. Kicking off his shoes, he glanced over at his answering machine on the beat-up old desk. The message light was blinking.
With a sigh, Ben pulled himself up and pressed the message button. “Ben? Ben, it’s Jennifer….” She sounded as if she’d been crying.
“Are you there? Please pick up. Please? Listen, I’m really worried about you….”
Frowning, he shuffled over to the refrigerator and took out a beer.
“Please, call me, okay? I miss you, honey. I want you to come home. I want to take care of you. We’ll make everything right. I think we should see somebody, don’t you? Get some help? Wouldn’t that be good?”
In the dark, dingy apartment, Ben sat back down on the bed and sipped his beer.
“I have a feeling you’re there, listening to me,” she went on. “Please pick up. Ben? Are you there?”
Six
Hannah knew Paul Gulletti taught another film class at the community college on Friday afternoons. But she hadn’t come to the college during her break to see Paul. In fact, she hoped they wouldn’t run into each other.
Sometimes, when she arrived for class early, she’d spot Paul’s assistant, Seth Stroud, in the cafeteria, sitting alone at a table with a cup of coffee and some film book.
That was where she hoped to find him today. She needed Seth’s help with something. And she didn’t
“And you asked about me and my little boy?” she pressed, a sharp edge in her tone. “Do you know how creepy that is? Are you following me around?”
His back against the vending machine, Ben glanced at the other students in the hallway. Hannah now noticed a few of them staring.
Ben shook his head at her. “No, I’m not following you around.”
She didn’t believe him. She stared into those cold blue eyes of his. “You’re lying,” she whispered. “I can tell. Listen, I don’t know what you want or what kind of game you’re playing. But you need to leave me alone.”
He let out a little laugh, and kept shaking his head.
“Understand?” she said loudly. “Leave me alone!”
She ran back into the classroom, and grabbed her coat.
Sitting on the edge of his desk, Paul glanced up from the Film Comment magazine he was reading. “Hannah? What’s wrong?”
Ignoring him, she hurried out to the corridor, then down the stairwell. She didn’t look back at Ben Sturges—or at the others who were staring at her. She just kept running.
He didn’t follow Hannah home from the community college. But he came by her apartment building around ten-thirty that night. From the parking lot of a neighboring building, he had a good view of her door and the living-room window. For nearly an hour, he watched. It was a beautiful, unseasonably warm night, with a smell in the air of impending rain. Her windows were open. From the flickering light inside, he could tell she was watching TV.
Her door opened. He hadn’t expected her to be stepping out at this time of night. Hannah came out to the balcony walkway for a minute. She retreated back inside, then reemerged with a straight-back chair and a glass of wine. She wasn’t going anywhere after all. She sat down, gazed out at the Space Needle, and sipped her wine. He saw her wipe her eyes several times, and he realized she was crying.
It began to rain, yet he remained, hiding behind a minivan in the lot. For a moment he thought she’d noticed him, but it was a false alarm. Around midnight, she finally went back inside, taking her chair and wineglass.
Ben stayed until he saw the light go out in her window.
He caught the bus back to his studio apartment in one of the seedier neighborhoods of town. His place was on the first floor. The iron bars somewhat defeated the purpose of his large picture window, but it didn’t matter. He had a view of a dumpster, an abandoned car, and the dirty street.
Ben didn’t bother turning on the light. He flopped down on the daybed sofa, which wasn’t so bad. The place came furnished—early fire-sale stuff. Kicking off his shoes, he glanced over at his answering machine on the beat-up old desk. The message light was blinking.
With a sigh, Ben pulled himself up and pressed the message button. “Ben? Ben, it’s Jennifer….” She sounded as if she’d been crying.
“Are you there? Please pick up. Please? Listen, I’m really worried about you….”
Frowning, he shuffled over to the refrigerator and took out a beer.
“Please, call me, okay? I miss you, honey. I want you to come home. I want to take care of you. We’ll make everything right. I think we should see somebody, don’t you? Get some help? Wouldn’t that be good?”
In the dark, dingy apartment, Ben sat back down on the bed and sipped his beer.
“I have a feeling you’re there, listening to me,” she went on. “Please pick up. Ben? Are you there?”
Six
Hannah knew Paul Gulletti taught another film class at the community college on Friday afternoons. But she hadn’t come to the college during her break to see Paul. In fact, she hoped they wouldn’t run into each other.
Sometimes, when she arrived for class early, she’d spot Paul’s assistant, Seth Stroud, in the cafeteria, sitting alone at a table with a cup of coffee and some film book.
That was where she hoped to find him today. She needed Seth’s help with something. And she didn’t
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