Sanford Crow

CHAPTER 16

When he was with her, he was with her; his troubles melted away. The constant static of his mind dulled to a hiss that he barely heard. He had Sadie next to him, and he watched her more than the movie, which hadn't captured his attention anyway.

Explosions, gunshots, and the occasional use of fuck filled his ears. He wondered if this movie was appropriate for his daughter. But whatever Sadie wants, Sadie gets. And Sadie wanted action.

Sanford watched her watch the screen; her eyes as big as gumballs. She ate her popcorn, handfuls at a time, licking her fingers for the butter after.

She gasped as Keanu Reeves yelled something to Sandra Bullock, who for some reason was driving a bus that couldn't go under a certain speed. They'll make a movie about anything, Sanford thought. He wondered what a movie based on his life would be like.

Who would play him, when he had a hard enough time playing himself?

"Daddy, I need to go to the bathroom," Sadie whispered.

"Okay, sweetie, I'll take you."

"No!" Her whisper was now loud and horrified. "I'm eight, I can take myself you weirdo."

He never liked being called a weirdo, but coming from her it was more like a term of endearment. Still, he didn't like the idea of her strolling off alone.

But what Sadie wants...

"Okay, okay, just make sure you come right back, all right? To the bathroom and back."

"To the bathroom back," she repeated with a smile, then got up and began to scurry away in the dark.

"Sadie!" Sanford whispered loud enough for her to hear; she turned around. "Don't forget to wash your hands!"

The blush on her face was pure embarrassment. She turned and ran out giggling, and he watched her, laughing himself as she disappeared into the shadows.

He brought his attention to the screen. Another dramatic bus chase. The bus narrowly escaped crash after crash, as Dennis Hopper mocked Keanu Reeves. "Pop quiz, asshole..."

Sanford laughed and gorged on more popcorn. The movie was kind of exciting, he supposed. The hair on his arms rose when the bus made a death-defying leap—completely unrealistic, but isn't that what movies are for?

He ate more popcorn. One buttery handful after the next, until his fingers touched the bottom of the cardboard. Shit, when she gets back I'll have to buy her more.

Wait...

How long has she been gone?

Paternal panic crept in. He had let himself get lost again. Nervously, he stood up and scanned the dark theater, thinking she must have sat in the wrong spot. Dark faces occasionally lit by on-screen explosions stared back at him.

"Hey, sit down, buddy!" a voice echoed out of the blank faces, none of which were his daughter's

"Sadie!" he hollered out, only to be responded with a heavy, sustained, SHHHHHH!

He looked at his watch, tilting it towards the screen so he could see it, wishing he looked at it before she went off and knew how long she'd been gone. The more he thought about it the longer it seemed. Time moved slowly, seconds felt like minutes, and minutes became hours. The door to the theater opened, Sanford leaned over to see. Two figures entered, one was a child, a girl, about the size of Sadie, and the other was a tall man, featureless, his face turned away from the screen. One arm was held close to his chest; it appeared to be in a sling. The smaller figure pointed towards where Sanford sat, and the tall, dark man bent low, whispered something in her ear, and sent her on her way.

The little girl walked to Sanford, and the closer she got, he realized that it was Sadie after all. A warm wave of relief washed over his entire body.

"Where were you? Who was that man?" Sanford asked the second she sat.

"Sorry, I went to the bathroom. When I came out he was outside, trying to tie his shoe with one hand cause his arm is broke. So he asked me to help, and I did. Then we talked a bit, and he bought me a soda," she said nonchalantly.

"What do you mean you talked a bit? Talked about what? Who is he?"

"I don't know, he never said his name. He looked kinda familiar though. And we just talked. He sounds funny when he talks. I told him about school and my friends and stuff."

"Familiar? How? And he bought you a soda?"

"I don't know, just like... familiar. Yeah, want a sip?" she said and handed it over to her father. "It's cherry."

Sanford opened the lid and smelled inside, not knowing what he'd expect to find, but knew he would dump it on the floor either way. Then he did.

"Hey!"

"Look, sweetie, you never ever talk to strangers, I thought you knew that. And you sure as shit don't take anything from them. I thought your mom and I taught you better than that. There are people out there, Sadie, that are not good people. Strangers can be dangerous, you have to remember that." He recalled something his father said to him a long time ago, something about people being the real monsters.

"But he said he's not a stranger."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, since I just met him, he said he's no longer a stranger. Makes sense, right?"

He stood up quickly to see where the dark figure was, but he was already gone. The feeling of being watched sunk in—a thousand tiny eyes upon him. Anxiety was brewing, about to take hold. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. He was still standing, facing the crowd of faceless movie watchers, when he heard the sound of something dripping.

It was going to happen. His eyes scanned back and forth. Horn-rimmed glasses formed around the crowd's eyes; the reflection of the screen filled each lens. Sanford could feel Jonathan Crow spying through each and every one of them.

Surrender felt like the only option, and at the moment it was an appealing one. He would let the anxiety take hold, and take him to a place where the blackness covered him whole.

He was about to let go, and give control over to whatever forces were at hand, when he felt another hand—a tiny hand—grip his own.

"Sit down, Daddy. It's okay," Sadie said in her voice, three feet off the ground.

The pestering drips began to quiet. His pounding heart eased to a steadier beat. His flesh cooled as the sweat retreated. The theater became a theater again, and the featureless faces of the crowd turned to normal Dicks and Janes, scowling at him for blocking their view.

"Hey buddy, sit the fuck down!"

Sanford obliged.

"No more going off on your own," he said, trying to calm himself. There was still the thought of that stranger in the back of his mind. Who was he? What did he want? How did he know Sadie?

"Questions with no answers are the worst kind to ask yourself," Sanford thought, but not in his own voice. It was his father's words, spoken in his father's voice.

What's happening to me?