Free Ghosted by Phaedra Weldon Page A

building. Neither of them see me as I move behind
him. I see her face. He has shoved something into her mouth and he
is holding her hands at her wrists behind her. From his fumbling, I
believe he hasn't been able to achieve his goal.
    There are plenty of things I can use as a
weapon on the ground. The most prominent is a pipe that does not
belong there. I use this same alley every day so I know what bits
and pieces of trash find its way there. I take the pipe in my hand.
It is burning cold and I do not have gloves.
    With careful footing I creep up behind him.
She sees me seconds before I swing and bash the monster's head. He
makes a gasping noise as the momentum of my attack takes him off
balance. He manages to roll over and face me.
    And he is visible in the light.
    His clothing is clean and he wears a new
ski-mask to block his features. And his shoes—they are the real
mystery. I may not have money, but I see it. Every day when I build
closets, or when I see my own family admire my father's
things.
    This man does not belong here.
    He reaches into his leather jacket. I believe
he has a weapon so I do what my Karate instructor in college told
me to do: I move into his personal space. My moving in forces him
to move back and I have the upper hand.
    So I take it, and I swing. Several times. He
tries to tackle me and I grab hold of the mask.
    It comes off. I see his face.
    He quickly retreats and runs down the alley in
the opposite direction toward the train station. Panting, I turn to
the victim.
    She's on her hands in knees, sobbing as she
tries to gather her clothing. She holds a shirt to her breast. I
approach her and she screams out at me. "Stay away!"
    I put my hands up. "I'm not going to hurt you.
I am going to call the police."
    My words surprise her and she sits bare-assed
on the alley filth. Her face is now hidden but her shoulders
tremble. "You…you're not going to rape me too?"
    "No. Of course not." I make sure I move slow
so I won't startle her and kneel down beside her, but not too
close. "My name's Daniel. Daniel Grant."
    She sniffs. "My name's Caroline Black. I uh…"
She wipes at her face again as I pull my phone from my back pocket,
a much simpler one than the smart phone she had been carrying. "I
guess it was stupid of me to think I….sh-should catch the train
home."
    "It's a bad neighborhood for that this late at
night." I dial the numbers and put the phone to my ear. "Just
relax, okay? I'll stay with you till they get here."
    She reaches out and tentatively touches my
arm. She is trembling. I balance the act of reporting a crime with
that of removing my jacket as I place it over her
shoulders.
    I hang up and tuck the phone into my jacket
pocket. "I am so…so sorry this happened."
    "Yeah…but it's not your fault. I uh…God I feel
so stupid."
    "You are not stupid. Braver than me." I give
her a genuine smile.
    She finally smiles at me through the smeared
mascara and lipstick. She is as beautiful from the front as she was
from the back. "Thank you."
    "You're welcome."
    She pulls my jacket around her shoulders.
"Will…would you hold me?"
    I do.
    And I know that I am not invisible to her. Not
at that moment. But I'm not a cheese ball either. I know that when
this is done, there is the possibility I will disappear again. She
will return to her world, and I to mine.
    But at least, for a little while, I am not a
ghost.

 
     
     
     
     
    2
     
    The police are thorough in their questioning
of me, and of Caroline. I discover very quickly she really is a
daughter of wealth. Her father is Gerome Black, one of the city's
largest bankers and real estate investors. The police ask me if I
would come downtown to the station and give a detailed description
for their sketch artist. Perhaps tomorrow?
    I agree.
    Because the predator never managed to unzip
his pants, there is no semen. There is only assault and attempted
rape. And Caroline never managed to touch him, or scratch him. The
police collect her clothing for