I haven’t had a good start to the year. I posted up here a while back about my New Year’s resolution to start jogging and stop smoking. My attempt at becoming a jogger ended up with me almost having my head stomped in by a mysterious man in a neon green jogging suit. After nearly dying I picked smoking back up as a crutch. I thought that I’d tobacco therapy my way out of the first week of shock but here we are, mid-February, and I’m still doing a pack a day.
The past couple of weeks have been bad. My whole body ached from the stomping that the Neon Man gave me. I was doubting my sanity about the whole experience. There was a comic book commission that I was meant to be working on, yet the only thing that I could draw was him. A sketchpad full of a dwarfish creature dressed in tight neon.
Whatever I tried to do I couldn’t focus, every show I watched turned into background noise, dinners would go half-cooked, days started to blur into each other. My mind had gone to dark places before, but not like this. I kept on hearing stumpy speed walking behind me, his yells howled outside of my window nightly. I was knee deep in a mental breakdown. So I downloaded Tinder.
Now, I know, getting into the dating scene because you’re considering psychiatric help might not seem like the brightest idea, but there’s a logic behind it. I’m a really obsessive person, be that in replaying the Neon Man’s horrible shrieks in my head or in relationships. I figured that maybe if I had someone’s texts to overanalyze I would forget about the Neon Man.
Her name was Alice. She radiated joy like a searchlight with a smiley face on it and she was really into running. In January I had overzealously liked a bunch of running magazine pages; apparently that was our shared interest. We chatted about our shared love of running but soon moved onto more personal topics. Within a week our conversations would span the entire day and would only end when we were both going to sleep. We made a real bond, even if it was based on me lying about my running habits. I wish I had been more honest with Alice.
I wish I told her that I don’t read Joggers Daily, that I can’t run for longer than five minutes without feeling like puking, that I smoke a pack a day. Because even with everything that happened, I still like this girl, I still feel like we could have had a future together. I just wish my path toward her didn’t lead through the Neon Man.
I came in thirty minutes early, hoping to get my hands on some liquid confidence and possibly cancel the date if I saw any neon suits. The place that we had decided to meet at was a pub near the edge of my neighborhood; the table I chose had a clear view of the park. If the Neon Man was to show up, there would be ample warning for escape. It was the first time I left the apartment since my jogging attempt and outside of the initial anxiety of leaving the house the whole experience was, surprisingly, calming.
Well, calming from the sense that by the second drink I was more scared of Alice than the Neon Man. We had chatted so long that it felt like I already had a legitimate relationship with this person, normal strangers didn’t talk until three in the morning on a nightly basis. I was scared that whatever we had through the phones would fall away as soon as we met, that all of my character flaws would become glaringly obvious or that she would be an anti-Semite or something. After five minutes of meeting her all of my fears were at ease.
Alice was as cheery in person as she was in chat. We clicked as if we were lifelong friends and not strangers who chose each other with their thumbs. We chatted about how similar drawing and running are, how they both serve as helpful outlets for daily stress. I told her how art helps manage my mood swings, she told me how running soothes her anxiety. A horde of butterflies was massaging my stomach. She asked to see my art.
I showed her my online portfolio. As she scrolled through the website she started asking about how a freelance artist makes money. The commission system didn’t seem lucrative enough, and it isn’t, so I threw in a lie about also designing a logo for a French energy drink company. Super local drink, she probably never heard of it. I made a mental note to make that my last lie, I wanted the relationship to continue on honest terms.
“Oooh! I really like this one! Is this little squirmer based on anything?” She asked, pointing to a sketch of the Neon Man I drew in the midst of my breakdown.
I lied again. She didn’t push the question further; she just scrolled through the portfolio for a bit and then closed down her phone. She told me she thought I was talented.
Without thinking I asked her if she wanted to go check out some more artwork that I had in my apartment. It took her a while to stop laughing; apparently my face had turned scarlet as soon as I asked. Finally she said yes, but there was a park she had been eyeing out of the window the whole night, would I mind a spontaneous midnight jog?
Even while I jogged next to her I didn’t think about the Neon Man. All I was concerned with was how my horrible pace might make her disgusted with me. But it didn’t, she kept on matching my speed without bringing any judgment to it. Running next to her actually made the clumps of tar in my lungs feel lighter. I barely coughed.
We started to move deeper into the park, towards the reservoir where the ducks would usually hang out during the summer. There was a lull in the conversation and I decided to ask the question that every girl wants to hear on her Tinder date, “Are you not scared of running in the park in the middle of the night?”
It took me three breaths to ask the question, she laughed and responded within one. Apparently I didn’t give off a threatening vibe and if anyone was lurking in the park she had half a decade of martial arts experience on hand. She asked me if I had any reservations about my own safety during a midnight run. What would I do if someone jumped out and tried robbing us?
I told her that since I have zero capacity for self-defense I would probably just run away; a slip of unplanned honesty. Alice laughed.
She asked me if I wanted to race around the reservoir. Laughing was too much of a burden on my lungs; instead I choked out a series of coughs. By the time I realized her challenge was not a joke she was already leagues ahead of me.
Challenging someone who is clearly out of their element to a race was a shitty thing to do, but Alice did mention that she had a competitive streak. Not to say that she could do anything wrong at this point; I was already visualizing how I’d meet her parents. Alice quickly made her way down the jogging path, occasionally running backwards to underline just how much faster she was than me. As she gracefully ran I wondered how soon we’d move in together. She waved at me from the other side of the reservoir. Then she was gone.
Complete darkness. All of the lamp posts that were illuminating the park had gone out. A faint dim of housing project windows shone beyond the trees but the park was covered in a still blackness.
I yelled for Alice, my voice strained from a sudden unease. No response. I yelled again, trying to sound as brave as possible, but my voice kept squealing. This time, there was a response.
“AYYEEWOOOUUU!!!”
Any thought of Alice disappeared. I could recognize that howl anywhere.
“AYEEEWOOOOUUU!!!”
It was the Neon Man.
I sped up. The way around the reservoir was the fastest route; anything else would be taking me through way too much of the park. My stomach turned and my heartbeat lifted to my ears, but I was moving much faster.
“AYEEEWOOOUUU!!!”
I kept on looking behind me, but there were only the dark silhouettes of trees and exercise equipment. I figured I could get past the reservoir, jump out of the park onto the street and make my way back to my apartment. The thought of escape kept some semblance of sanity in me.
“AYEEEEEWOOOU!!!”
Out of the trees came garish green light. The Neon Man moved towards me in a brisk jog, his stubby little limbs made him look like a rotisserie chicken. An immensely angry rotisserie chicken.
There was no way that I could outrun him. The distance that I covered in a minute was trotted over in seconds. As he got closer, he reached into his pocket and took something out. A metal object glistened in his hand.
It wasn’t a thought process. The thoughts came after. I jumped down into the reservoir and started to wade my way through to the other side. Somewhere in the back of my head I figured that I would be safe if I was in the water. I thought maybe the Neon Man wouldn’t follow me if he had to swim.
The water was up to my knees, I quickly trudged my way over to the center. The reservoir was frigid; I wanted to shout for help, wake up the whole neighborhood, but my voice chords were completely seized up from the cold shock. The Neon Man stopped and watched as I struggled my way into the center of the artificial lake.
The water stayed at my knees. As I got further into the reservoir it became obvious that the water wouldn’t go deeper. The Neon Man watched me all the way to the impotent center of the reservoir.
“AYEEEEWOOOUUU!!!”
I turned around; knowing that I’m trapped, knowing that there is no help coming. I tried to reason with the Neon Man. I asked him why he was following me, why he was so enraged by the idea of me jogging, why was it specifically me that he felt the need to attack. As I squealed out my questions he simply watched. When he saw that I had run out of things to say he took a deep breath.
“I warned you.” He said, with a stomp.
“I warned you!” Another stomp.
“I warned you! I warned you! I warned you!” His stomping had morphed into a jog. He stepped into the water.
His yelling got more manic as he got closer. He moved in a steady, splashing, trot. I started to back up.
“IwarnedyouIwarnedyouIwarnedyou!” He was speeding up. I couldn’t feel my toes, but every step I took was guided with a fire in my abdomen. I sloshed my way through, kicking up mud. If I could get to the edge of the reservoir I could run. There was still the slightest chance of escape.
“AYWARNEEEYOOOO”
I managed to get on solid ground, but my inability to feel my legs and the mud on my shoes got the best of me. Within three steps I fell, my knee spit out a nasty stream of red.
“AYEWOOOOUUU!!!”
He was right behind me. The object in his hands was clear now: a switchblade. I tried to clamber up but he quickly stomped down my foot. The weight of his pudgy little body kept me pinned to the ground. I thought about Alice, as the blade circled in front of me I only thought about Alice.
Bzzzt!
The Neon Man shook for a moment, and then he got knocked to the ground. It took me a second to recognize what was happening. Alice, Taser in one hand and a fist in the other, was beating the living shit out of the Neon Man. After a couple of brutal blows to the back of his head she got him in some sort of an arm lock. All the while she was yelling something. I couldn’t hear past my own heartbeat.
“The knife! His knife! Take the knife!” I heard, as I finally descended back into reality. He was still screeching, but she seemed to have a good hold on him. I grabbed the knife and limply held it in my hands.
“Good. Now call the cops!”
The whole thing went by like a sort of dream. Seeing the weird blob of a man who nearly killed me twice struggle on the ground felt absurd. Soon his neon green tracksuit was covered in mud, he looked like a radioactive pig being held down by the most beautiful woman in the world.
The cops came. They took our statements, put the Neon Man in cuffs and shoved him in the back of a cruiser. We both explained that we didn’t know the man but that he came at me with a knife. His switchblade was taken as evidence and we were given assurances that he would be punished. As we talked to the police their car kept on rocking back and forth. He was kicking at the door, Howling.
“AYEWOOOUUU!!!”
They took him away. Alice wanted to go home, the night had proved a bit too intense. Yet as she started searching for ways to get back to her apartment she realized she needed to pee. I invited her over to use my facilities while she waited for her Uber.
When she asked me about the Neon Man I didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth. Telling her that I knew the man from before, that he had attacked me, that he made me give up on running not only made me sound like a crazy person but it also cemented my status as a liar. She thought he was a random crazy person with a knife, so I let him remain a random crazy person with a knife. She knew something was wrong though; the Neon Man blew up whatever chemistry we had earlier.
I had cleaned my apartment less thoroughly than I thought. There were clothes all over the floor, pizza boxes stacked in every corner and an overfilled ashtray in my living room. I told Alice I had a brother who smoked a lot. She asked why I never mentioned him before. I shrugged.
As she peed I could feel my relationship with her slipping away. Whatever warm feeling she gave me in my abdomen was now replaced with dry ice. I couldn’t let it end like this.
As soon as she came out of the bathroom I told her the truth. I told her about the Neon Man, and how I don’t run, and how I’m a chain smoker, and how I barely make rent with the art that I make. I confessed to every single lie I told her throughout our short-lived relationship.
But along with the confession I also made a promise; I promised that I would be the person that I pretended to be when we first talked. Somewhere inside of me, beneath all the lies and posturing, there was someone who could do better. I would quit smoking, I would start running, I would try to figure out a way to have a stable career. I would be better. I just didn’t want to lose her.
It all took her by surprise. She stood in the door of my bathroom processing everything that I had just thrown at her. Finally she told me I didn’t have to lie to her. Then she listed off a bunch of positive adjectives that my self-loathing won’t let me remember. She liked me, she said, but she couldn’t get involved with another compulsive liar.
We could stay friends, maybe go for a jog someday. Outside of the attempted murder and blanket of deceit she had a good night. She grabbed her Uber and rode off.
Alice made me promise to go to the police about the original assault, so I guess that’s what I’m doing tomorrow. It’s been a while, but there’s bound to be some camera evidence that could take the Neon Man out of my life. I shouldn’t be improving myself for Alice, that can’t possibly be healthy, but I will. We’ll be friends and maybe somewhere down the line I’ll actually be the person that she fell in like with. Maybe I still have a shot.
I want to get my shit together, and starting tomorrow I will, but for now-
I could really use a cigarette.