Joe grabbed a bite to eat unthinkingly, the sight and smell of the meat drawing him in like an animal. It was a gyro from a street side vendor who carved off the sizzling lamb from a twirling skewer and placed it on a pita with some sauce and vegetables before handing it to him. It was hot and cold and incredibly delicious. Joe devoured it rapidly as he walked, not wanting to waste a second, and he tossed the paper in a trash can while still chewing. Then he scampered back to his apartment as quickly as he could, as though it were a race. All along he thought only of his bed and of laying down in it, like that was the finish line. It felt like if he could just make the day end, then the next one might be better. He could reset everything. But even that was the smaller motivation to sleep. There is far greater incentive, he thought, while staring eagerly at the covers, imagining that Jennifer was already in them, with a warm smile on her face, waiting for him to sleep, waiting for him to dream. It was ridiculous, illogical, yet he couldn’t deny it. He knew that once he drifted off, she’d be there. He knew this with total certainty.

He had a couple stiff drinks first, vodka on ice, telling himself it would help him sleep. After those he felt ready. Outside the sky had just turned dark enough, and after closing the shades it was darker still in the apartment. Then he settled into bed, knowing he’d fall asleep easily. The day, as strange as it was, had worn him out completely.

His last thoughts before sleep took him were of a date he’d once had with Jennifer. It had been a cool and crisp evening in the fall of his junior year of high school. Joe, with his Dad’s old pickup truck and a very fresh driver’s license, had cruised over to her house eagerly. She had been hovering by the front door, peering out the window, waiting for him. It didn’t even really matter where they were going. Just the fact that it was the two of them, and no one else—that was all that mattered. Sweet independence—finally. He’d been so excited.

* * *

Joe saw Jennifer standing at the table next to him, positively beaming.

He looked around him and realized that he’d done it—they’d returned to that very night. They were inside of a restaurant called Salvatore’s. It was an Italian place in the suburbs that Joe had once thought was the absolute best place to bring a date. That thought seemed cute now, even laughable, but at the time, he firmly believed it. Anyways it didn’t matter. He was with her, and they were together. That’s all he wanted. The location was irrelevant.

Salvatore’s was lively and sparkling, surely more than it even deserved. All the tables were set with flawless white tablecloth, shining silverware, and the centerpieces bore a single lit candle that gave a warm glow. There were no empty tables around them—it was a busy night, and all the other restaurant patrons were each well-dressed, smiling, and appeared in the midst of engaging conversations. There was just one table available—theirs—and Jennifer stood next to it with her eyes shining.

“Oh, Joe,” she said, while looking around, taking it in.

This time their clothes weren’t high school age-appropriate—rather there was a very welcome change, because she stood before him in a slim black dress, with her hair fashionably styled up, but with some vibrant locks hanging down. Stunning—she looked like she was dressed for a red carpet, walking into some kind of premiere. Then he realized his own clothes—a casual-style suit, with sleek trousers, dress shoes, and an open sport coat over a black shirt. It was unlike anything he’d normally wear, but right away he had to admit it was grand. It was something women surely loved, but he hadn’t the eyes or the know-how to pick it out for himself. Thus, it seemed inconceivable that he’d been able to summon it up. Maybe it was her doing, he thought, with a grin, appreciating the real perks to this form of dating.

She smiled and held out her hand to him. He took it and kissed it gently as she giggled. He loved everything about her, and this most certainly included her humor. For she knew as well as he did that the elegance was manufactured, perhaps a bit haphazardly, like it was merely a fun game for them to play. While she enjoyed it, it tickled her, too. She never took anything too seriously—it was one of the things Joe had always loved about her.

“Check out the sport coat,” he said, while standing tall, half-mockingly and half-serious.

“You stud,” she said, gazing at him.

Yep, that confirms it, Joe thought. She had dressed him.

“Well, check out this dress,” she said. “It’s barely more than lingerie.” She looked at him accusingly. “Joe?” she asked.

He smiled. “It’s not something this town is accustomed to seeing. You look like you’re in New York, or Hollywood, or something.”

“Yeah! And we could have gone anywhere in the world tonight. But you chose here.” She gave him a warm but curious look.

“Because this was the first real night we had together,” Joe explained. “Just you and I. Our first date. I think about it all the time, Jennifer. So it’s no surprise we’re here. I love it here.”

That hit home, and she smiled sweetly at him. As before, he felt the emotional current emanating from her and it gusted across him like a pleasant breeze. He almost felt his hair swaying in its wake as he smiled back, trying to reciprocate.

It would be easy to get swept away in the date, he knew. To live the dream, to just settle back and let the pleasant current carry them away. But he couldn’t—he had to focus. He had to use this time, this small window of interaction. No matter how strange it was.

“Jennifer,” he whispered, and she looked at him a bit worriedly, sensing his tone had changed. They hadn’t sat down yet, and instead they remained standing by their table, and he still gently held her hand. “I need to find you,” he said, repeating Roy’s words. “Wherever you are. I need to find you. I need to bring you back.”

He was expecting hope and gratitude to course through her, as another wave rocked his boat, but instead she just remained locked in concern. Then the colors in the restaurant actually became less vivid around them, and the candlelight faded.

“What is going on?” Joe whispered to himself, as an awful thought crept through him that any control he thought he had might just be a ruse. The soft Tuscan music playing in the background snuffed into silence, and many of the restaurant patrons around them had odd pauses in conversation. Some of them flashed a disconcerted look at him, which seemed incidental, but Joe knew it was not.

Jennifer peered grimly over his shoulder.

Oh, no, what is it now, he thought, as he followed her line of sight, looking over to the front door of Salvatore’s.