“Thanks,” I smiled, feeling charmed and connected.

“I’ve got a thank-you present for you,” he said with a jovial glint in his eyes. “Close your eyes.”

The childish part of my brain hoped that maybe it was something as simple and romantic as a kiss. I closed them.

He placed something cold in my hands. I opened my eyes to see a shiny new iPhone sitting in them.

“What?” I beamed. “You didn’t have to—”

“I kinda did. And I kinda wanted to. Now you can return my crazy texts at all hours of the night,” he winked. “It’s more for my pleasure than for yours.”

I squeezed the phone in my hand and put my arms out to hug him. He embraced me wholeheartedly.

Until his own phone started to ring. He broke away and looked at it. I could see on the screen it was Jennifer.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” he said apologetically to me and patted me hard on the shoulder. “Have a safe flight. I’ll call you soon.”

I nodded awkwardly as he put the phone to his ear and said, “Hey, babe.”

He talked to her, sincerely engrossed in the conversation. I turned around, feeling a bit stupid, and walked away toward the ticket agent. I looked behind at him, hoping to catch him watching me. Instead, he was still talking and walking back to his car, his lithe figure cutting through the crowd.

I felt pretty small as I walked to my gate and waited for the plane to arrive, but somehow pushed those thoughts out of my head. If I could just get over these feelings that I had for him then I would be OK. After all, it was just a stupid girl crush that I had. What was really important was the fact that I was about to embark on a journey unlike any I’d ever been on before.

I looked around the busy gate area, at the nameless people sitting about and decided I should probably use the bathroom before I got on the plane. Though it was a short flight, I didn’t have an aisle seat and I hated having to climb over people just because I had to go pee.

I walked down the hall, past the gift shops, bars and a few more gates before I found the restroom.

It was surprisingly empty, which was a nice change from what airport bathrooms usually look like. There was only one woman in a stall down near the end. I noticed her red patent Mary Janes and old lady stockings. I went into the nearest stall to the front.

I hung my bag up on the sturdy coat hook, noting how damp the ground looked, and proceeded to sit down. As I did so, I heard the stall door at the end open and the woman slowly walk out. I didn’t hear her flush, which was pretty gross but expected in public washrooms. I swear, women were just as bad as men in these scenarios. It must have been some sort of internal rebellion mechanism, like “I don’t live here so I don’t have to clean; instead, I’ll act like a fucking monkey.”

As I was thinking that, I noticed how precise the woman’s footsteps were as she walked down the aisle toward me and the sinks.

Heel, toe, heel, toe, heel, toe.

It was slow enough to be creepy and creepy enough that I had too much stage fright to even go. I just sat there, holding my breath and waiting for her to walk past.

But she didn’t.

Heel, toe, heel, toe. And then it stopped somewhere outside my stall.

Heel, toe, heel, toe.

It was like she was walking toward me.

What the fuck?

Heel. Toe.

And then it stopped, just as the round toes of the red Mary Janes were visible beneath my stall door, facing directly towards me.

This crazy bitch was standing right outside my fucking door!

I didn’t know what to say or do. I didn’t want to move, but I was on the fucking toilet seat. This was the most vulnerable position ever.

I kept my eyes on the toes, thinking at some point they’d move or maybe the woman would say something. But neither of those things happened.

There was a large enough crack between the stall doors, though, usually the bane of every public washroom.

I slowly moved my head over so that I was looking through the crack. Maybe I could get an idea of what she was doing.

And through the crack I saw an eye. A heavily made up, aging eye staring right back at me, face pressed up to the door.

I screamed. I couldn’t help it.

I screamed and jumped off of the toilet, yanking up my pants far enough and flung myself out of the bathroom stall, fully ready to confront whoever the fuck was out there.

But as I stumbled out of the stall, the door banging loudly, I didn’t see anyone. There was no one there. I was alone in the washroom, and the woman at the end of the aisle was gone.

I put my hand to my neck to feel how fast my pulse was racing. I closed my eyes and took in a few deep breaths. After counting to ten, I opened them, expecting the worst.

I was still alone in the bathroom, my bag hanging on the door, which slowly moved back and forth.

I grabbed it off the hook and hustled myself over to the sink. I could deal with peeing on the plane. At least I knew I wouldn’t be alone there.

I placed the bag on the part of the counter that wasn’t wet and quickly splashed cold water on my face, avoiding my eye makeup.

I looked up in the mirror and saw nothing but my reflection.

I turned for the paper towels.

Creepy Clown Lady was standing there beside the dispenser.

I screamed again, but it was caught in my throat and came out as a breathless gurgle.

It was her, as clear as day. Her wrinkled, pancaked face, and violet-tinted coif. The bizarre taffeta gown with sewn-on pom pons. Her stockinged legs and red vintage shoes.

She kept her glassy cataract eyes on me, almost willing me to calm down and stop screaming, as silently as I was trying.

I don’t know how long we stood there just eyeing each other, only a few feet apart. But at some point I found strength returning to my throat, a life force rushing around my heart.

“Who the hell are you?!?” I yelled at her.

She didn’t say anything. Her expression didn’t change. She kept staring at me with her knowing eyes that were vaguely inquisitive and strangely patient.

I wasn’t even afraid at this point. I just wanted to know what the fuck was going on.

I took a tentative step toward her.

“Please, tell me, who are you?”

She smiled, slowly. Her mouth spread, her yellow teeth showed and the bad lipstick job became more glaring. As before, her eyes never smiled along with it. Whatever I had just said about not being afraid, forget it.

I was very afraid.

“You’re just starting,” the woman said with her slight accent. Her voice sounded disembodied. I was immediately reminded of a scene with Robert Blake in Lost Highway.

“You need to keep going,” she continued.

“Who are you?” I repeated.

“You need each other. You need to set this right.”

“Set what right?” I asked. “What? What are you talking about? We did set it right.”

She shook her head very slowly. As she did, flakes of makeup fell off her face and flittered to the ground like pixie dust. I watched this, dumbfounded.

“It’s not over yet. You and Dex need each other. We need you. It’s not over yet.”

I wanted to strangle her, whoever she was.

“Why, why?” I asked frantically. “Please just tell me why so I can know.”

“You’ll find out. It’s not over yet. You’re just discovering. You’re just starting.”

“You keep saying that! What do you mean I’m just starting?” I yelled at her just as I heard the bathroom door close. I turned to see a business woman walk in wheeling a carry-on behind her. She gave me a concerned look and walked past us down the aisle. I followed her walk and saw her give me one last fearful look before she walked into a stall.

I looked back at Creepy Clown Lady but she was gone.

I quickly spun around and after seeing no one, I picked up my bag and ran out the door and into the terminal. It was full of passengers going to and fro. The lady had vanished.

And then my flight was boarding. I had no choice but to scuttle back to my gate and slink on board as the guilty party who was holding up everyone else.

It was only till I sat down in my seat, after squeezing past the angry fat man on the aisle, that I had a chance to mull over what had happened.

The lady had been there. She had spoken to me. I interacted with her.

But where did she come from and what did she want? I couldn’t have seen her. My imagination was good but it wasn’t that good. I had to keep going? I was just getting started?

And most intriguing of all—Dex and I needed each other? What could Dex ever need me for?

I was pondering that as the plane pulled away from the gate. All the feelings of excitement I had earlier about the show, about my future, were now compounded with an increasing sense of urgency and trepidation. I had so many questions now that needed to be answered. And quickly.

To get a handle on my thoughts, I looked out the window at the sunshine that was coming through the dark afternoon clouds. And as if fate knew exactly what I was thinking, I caught a glimpse of a figure standing by one of the windows.

It was Dex. Waving goodbye.