Day Two, 1:50 p.m.
“Dude, it’s Jocelyn,” I say, looking over my shoulder nervously, just waiting for Courtney to get out of the Burger King. Could this trip be any more fucked up? Seriously. Courtney bursts into tears, something about cheese on her burger (which I know I remembered, because I knew if I didn’t, she was going to flip the fuck out). She ran into Burger King crying, and I stood outside the bathroom, yelling in to her and looking like a freak. She kept telling me to go away, so finally I did, and now I’m waiting in the car for her to come out. The weird thing is, all I can think about is that song by Digital Underground, the one with the lyric “I once got busy in a Burger King bathroom.” I think I have it on a mix CD in here somewhere.
“This isn’t Jocelyn,” B. J. says, sighing. “It’s Jordan. Dude, try to play a better trick than that. You sound nothing like her. Plus your number came up on my caller ID.”
“No,” I say, feeling like I’m living in some sort of weird alternate reality. “Jocelyn is the one who’s following you.”
“Why would Jocelyn be the one who’s following me?” B. J. asks, sounding thoroughly confused. Again, I’m struck by his ability to be very insightful and smart about some things and then totally clueless about others. Maybe he’s one of those idiot savants.
“Because she wants to know where you’re going, obviously,” I say. I crane my neck to get a look at the Burger King. Still no sign of Courtney. I’m giving her five more minutes, and then I’m going back in there. What is it with me and the women’s bathroom?
“Why would she want to know where I’m going?” B. J. asks, sounding even more confused. “Wait, how do you even know this?”
“Because Courtney was asking all these questions about who was following you, and about how I should try to convince you not to call the police because it was probably nothing.”
“So?”
“So obviously she was saying that because it’s Jocelyn, and they don’t want you calling the police and getting her in trouble, and/or finding out it’s her.”
“Did you just say ‘and/or’?”
I don’t respond.
“Why would Jocelyn be following me, though?” B. J. asks again. “She knows where I’m going. I tell her every second where I’m going to be. I check in.”
“Maybe she doesn’t believe you,” I say. “Maybe she’s following you because she wants to make sure you really are where you say you are.”
“That’s ridiculous,” B. J. says. “Why would I lie about where I’m going?”
“She doesn’t trust you,” I tell him. “I have to go.”
“Why wouldn’t she trust me?” he demands. “I’m totally trustworthy.”
I try not to point out that not only does B. J. tend to get caught doing things and then lie about them, he also has an extremely impulsive personality, which makes him do things spur of the moment. Like dress up as a midget. Or cheat on his girlfriend. Not that B. J. has ever cheated on Jocelyn. Not that I know of, anyway.
“Listen,” I say, “I gotta go. But it’s definitely Jocelyn. You should talk to her.”
“Hmm,” B. J. says, sounding unsure. I want to be a good friend, but I really can’t deal with this right now. I slap my phone shut and head inside to rescue Courtney from a women’s bathroom for the second time in twenty-four hours.
