Thread of Hope

SEVEN

I was wrong. It wasn’t a guy that was keeping an eye on me.

It was a kid.

I stood in the lobby of Buster’s, fishing for a peppermint out of a small tin bowl, waiting for my friend to pass by. A minute later, he walked quickly past the front of the restaurant, not even glancing at the doors I was standing behind, probably assuming I was still at the bar. I stepped out through the doors and followed him.

He turned at the far corner of the restaurant and it was clear to me he had no idea what he was doing. He'd made nothing but circles around the restaurant. When he turned the corner, I caught a better glimpse of his face. A bit of stubble dotted his chin, but his cheeks were a little red and there were no lines around the eyes. No way he was more than eighteen.

He came around to the boardwalk-side of the restaurant and I stayed a good distance behind him, tucked in behind an older couple wearing matching Hawaiian shirts. When the kid got to the window at the bar, he glanced over, did a double take, then slowed, realizing I’d moved from my spot inside at the bar.

I slipped out from behind the couple to the wall that ran on the other side of the walk and half-turned, like I was looking at the birds feeding down by the water. I was parallel to him and he was still in my peripheral vision.

He stepped closer to the window, clearly wondering where the hell I’d gone. I moved forward, staying out of his line of vision. He hesitated for a moment, then broke into a pace just short of a jog as he circled the restaurant one more time. I followed.

He came around to the window at the bar again and pulled out a cell phone. I stayed further behind him this time, out at the boardwalk railing, sidling up next to a group of teenage boys who were comparing skateboards.

My friend spun slowly in a circle, talking rapidly on the cell, gesturing, frustrated.

I thought about just walking up to him, surprising him and seeing what his response was. But if I did that, I wouldn’t get any idea of who he was talking to or why he was following me. Patience wasn’t my strongest character quality, but I summoned what little I did have to see if I could learn a bit more.

He folded up the phone and headed west toward the Harbor House and the park that jutted out into the bay, dodging couples and tourists on the crowded boardwalk. I kept my distance, moving behind him. He wasn’t looking around any longer, just seemed to be aiming for a new location.

The road into and out from the park was clogged with traffic and I was afraid I’d lose him, as he could’ve easily jumped into a car and sped off. I picked up the pace and was only about fifty feet behind him as he crossed the busy road and walked over to the west side of the village.

I slowed, relieved that he wasn’t looking for a ride and watched him stop as he came up behind the Harbor House.

He was joined by another kid about his age, shorter, with a baseball cap on backwards, shorts hanging below his knees and a bright blue T-shirt that had “Coronado Wrestling” written in white letters across the front. The shirt looked two sizes too small across the kid’s broad chest.

They both sort of shrugged and turned, heading for the park.

I’d used up my patience.

I angled back, still on the opposite side of the road, then slid in behind a group of college students and crossed the street, about ten feet in front of my followers as we headed right for them. I separated from the group just as we all hit the sidewalk and stepped out in front of my two new friends. Their eyes went wide.

“Hey guys,” I said. “Looking for me?”