The New Sense

Monday, May 13, 2002

B— is pissed off with me. Jack, one of the morning guys, is a Gazette crime reporter. He showed me today's paper with a story by him about the averted rape on Napoleon. He said that the police told him the guy who saved the victim was from BC, but that he refused to give his name. The cops also told him that the guy from BC was accompanied by a woman who worked in a Plateau bar. Jack asked me if the woman was me and the guy was my boyfriend who he'd seen in here a couple of times. I told him it was me, but that I didn't know B—'s real name either. Jack was incredulous (so am I, mind you. What am I going to tell my mother? "I'm going out with a guy who won't tell me his name, though it's okay because he's on the lam." ???)
When I tell B— about all this later and show him the newspaper article he's really pissed off.
"Oh, fucking hell, Sara. This is really shitty. I don't mind risking my safety to save someone like that girl, but this fucking reporter and you are jeopardizing me more than that guy yesterday did."
"What are you talking about?"
"The people who are after me are serious. Very, very serious. They're probably monitoring the media for exactly this kind of story. If they find out I'm in Montreal I'm in trouble and you're in trouble. I probably should leave right now."
"What? You're so paranoid! How the hell could they track you down? There's no photo of you. No name, not even your fake name."
He didn't say anything for about thirty seconds. "Look, you have two choices: either you think I'm crazy, in which case you can dump me or help me find treatment, or I'm not crazy, in which case you have to trust me. Your choice."
I felt bad. It all sounds crazy. Then again, how did he know about the rape if he doesn't have some kind of special ability? Or a super-techno-detection-device implanted in his brain which the secret service needs to recover because it's the only working model. Wasn't that a movie already, with Keanu Reeves?
"I'm sorry," I said. And I meant it.
"I'm sorry too. I am paranoid, but with reason."
I laughed. "Sure — like all the paranoid lunatics. Someone really is after you, right?"
He laughed too. We started making out, but I had to stop him because I just got my period. He said, "I know," and was very evasive when I asked him how. Finally he said he had noticed a tampon wrapper in the bathroom garbage. I checked later and there wasn't one. I don't know if I'm craxy or he is. Ha! Funny typo. Craxy — when you've started cracking up but you're not quite crazy yet! That's exactly what I feel like. I'm on a rollercoaster with a madman who has the ability to change the configuration of the rails while the car is moving. It's really exciting, and I can't get off, but I don't have that "It's going to be all right" feeling you get on an actual rollercoaster. I don't know if it's going to be all right. But I'm glad I'm on the ride.

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posted by Sara