Chapter Eleven
I had been lucky for a few weeks without Dad or Greg noticing my car pulling in at my apartment. It was only a few blocks down from them, and had they been on the road or in Greg’s yard and looking down towards the park, they could have seen my car from that distance. I figured it was only a matter of time, but I kept hoping, and so far, so good.
I was careful when I stepped outside my apartment when it was daylight. Always peeping out first to make sure I didn’t see one of their cars going by or one of them in the yard. It wasn’t the best of circumstances, but I was free. And that made the efforts at keeping a low profile worthwhile. Of course, both Greg and Dad knew where I worked.
The past week, though, Dad did come in the library a couple of times, but he never said so much as boo to me, if and when he did spot me. I could tell by his cold, cold eyes, that he was much too pissed at what I had done to them. He considered me a lost sinner, and therefore had no more reason to even talk to me. Funny thing was he didn’t even have a clue that I had become a Satanist!
I’m sure with his twisted beliefs about Satanism he would figure, should he have found out, that that was the way I had always been headed – which would have been damnation by his opinion.
Of course, that was not what I was feeling at all. Never had I felt so good, so right, about everything. I was learning to meditate. I didn’t feel like I was getting anywhere for a while, but it was becoming easier, and I was beginning to feel my energy rising. And that in itself was something I was quickly learning – the sensation, the feel of such wonderful energy surrounding my body. It was awesome!
When I ran into Paul one late afternoon at the park, I asked him about it, and he seemed really pleased with my progress. He did ask me if I had seen the dwarf anymore, and I admitted that I hadn’t. He said that wasn’t unusual. Sometimes they didn’t seem to mind letting us see them, and then other times, we would hardly see them at all.
Still, they would leave their little calling cards, as Paul had previously warned me about. I would leave my keys on the kitchen counter, and when I’d go to get them, they wouldn’t be there. Found them in my right sneaker once, and another time, I found them on top of my pillow.
One evening I was getting ready to cook a TV dinner in my microwave, and I set it inside and hit the five minute button and walked off towards the bathroom, heard a beep, and knew it had been much too soon, not even a full minute. I swirled around on my heels and went back. It had been turned off. So, I hit the five minute button again, and this time I actually made it to the bathroom before I heard the beep. “You little stinker!”
I marched right back to the kitchen. Off again. “Will you please let my dinner cook?” I said, scanning my surroundings, and I could swear that I heard soft snickering. I shook my head and once more touched the five minute button. Got to the bathroom this time and managed to pee. When I returned to the kitchen I saw that my dinner was indeed cooking – but it was set for thirty minutes! “Shit!” I couldn’t help it. I laughed. Of course, I shut it off and reset it for two.
Knowing full well that the second I walked away he would mess with it again, I just stood there until it was done. I could still hear low giggling, almost like a child off in what sounded like the living room. I took a look, but of course he wasn’t about to let me see him. “Oh well.” My dinner was ready. I took it out, sat it on the table and went to fill myself a glass of ice from my little freezer at the top of my refrigerator, poured tea in, grabbed a fork out of the drawer and went back to the table.
No dinner.
“You little turd!” I squealed and walked into the living room. This time, it was outright laughter I heard. “Where is my dinner?” There was a scuffling of feet in the kitchen. I returned to find my dinner placed exactly where I had put it. “Thank you!” I said and sat down before he decided to put it somewhere else. I sat there shaking with muted laughter for several minutes. At least, he was letting me know he was still around. I didn’t mind putting up with his shenanigans, for I knew he would protect me in a heartbeat. Besides, he did add a little laughter to sometimes otherwise boring days or evenings.
I didn’t know his name though, and I wanted to know his name. So I just came right out and asked, “What’s your name?” There was a long moment of silence and I was pretty sure he wasn’t going to answer, and then I heard, “Cal. Call me Cal.”
“Thank you, Cal.” I thought about it a minute. “Would you like something to eat?” I wasn’t sure if he ate the food we did. For it was obvious he was from a parallel realm. He could come into our world, but could he eat or even want to eat our food?
“It’s okay,” I heard his little voice reply. “Cal not hungry.”
“Okay. Well, if you ever want anything I have, just say so. To eat, that is.”
“Thanks but Cal okay.”
“Yes, indeed, you are okay. Thanks for being here for me.”
“It’s what I do,” he replied.
Then everything got really quiet and I had the distinct feeling he had left. “Cal?”
No response. He was gone. I went ahead and finished my dinner. I would take my shower, meditate for a while, watch a little television, and then retire to bed. Even though Cal wasn’t there at that moment, somehow I knew he would be there in a flash if I needed him. It was a good feeling. No. It was a wonderful feeling.