22
What a strange-looking couple, the man thought to himself as his white SUV approached a red light. The couple in question was on the east side of the street, standing between 2nd and 3rd. The man was at least six and a half feet tall, with a shaved head and aviator glasses. A real tough guy from the neck up. But he was wearing a cartoon-character T-shirt and holding hands with a petite blond woman carrying a baby in one of those body slings.
They looked like a happy family, which the man found incredible.
He could already picture them fifteen years from now. He’d get fat. She’d drink too much. Their simple, sullen children would know that their parents hated each other.
He considered himself a realist about marriage. Sure, things might be all hearts and rose petals for the time being, but how will things look when life throws you a curveball? When that pretty girl starts losing her looks or can’t get out of bed, how long will it take for Happy Husband to find a replacement? And if Daddy winds up in the unemployment line? Forget about it. There was no for better or for worse, in good times and in bad—only selfishness and betrayal.
He shifted his gaze to the passenger-side window, trying to lay eyes again on his target. That’s how he thought of Laurie Moran: as prey.
A few months ago, when he was in one of his ruts, he had been spending too much time lying around on the sofa watching cable television. He saw a nature program about the chameleon. He had almost flipped the channel as they showed clips of lizards morphing from red to pink to green to yellow and blue. What kind of idiot didn’t already know those ugly things could change colors?
But then the narrator started talking about the eyes. Turns out, a chameleon’s eyelids are fused except for a narrow opening, like a pinhole. But instead of blinding the lizard, this extraordinary feature turns each eye into a kind of periscope, plus each eye can move independently of the other. As a result, chameleons can scan a full 360-degree perimeter. They can search for predators and prey simultaneously. A chameleon sees everything at once.
Imagine what that would be like, the man thought. To be one step ahead at all times. No one could fool you or cheat you, that was for sure.
Now, behind the wheel of his white SUV, that was how he felt—all powerful. For the moment, from his viewpoint, there were no predators, only prey. They don’t see me, he thought, but I see everything.
Except wait! Where is she? He had followed her from the dive bar. She had turned on Bowery, and he had done the same, but now there was no sight of her. She couldn’t have walked that far. As soon as the light changed, he hung a left on 2nd Street, hoping that he could circle the block and find her again.
Once he reached the intersection of Bowery and 3rd, he pulled over to the curb in front of a hydrant and ducked low in his seat, scanning the street. He felt his power slipping away. It made him want to drive onto the sidewalk and mow down anyone who happened to be there.
His foot was lingering over the gas pedal when she suddenly emerged from a shop across the street. She took only a few steps before holding up her hand to hail a cab. He counted to three and then pulled into traffic behind her.
Where to now, Laurie Moran? And how much longer should I wait before life starts throwing you a few curveballs?