It was a Friday night. It had to be a Friday night.

I know it was a Friday night because there was a big hollow place in the bottom of my stomach where my son was supposed to be. When you get pregnant, you don’t think about what’s going to happen years down the road. You think about the cute rattles and which brand of car seat and do I *really* need baby bottles when I’m going to nurse the wee bay-bee? You don’t think down the road apiece, when custody is split and parenting is a weekday thing, and what does my kid do on the weekend anyway (besides play World of Fucking Warcraft) but you can’t DO anything about it because, well, it’s not your turn to raise him.

You don’t think about that stuff. No. Not at all.

But there we were, two of the gloomiest people on the planet, trying to fill a hollow void that would remain empty until Sunday.

“Let’s grab some dinner,” Daver offered. I nodded, my heart wearing a sad face.

“Thai okay?” He asked, staring at my face intently, knowing that I probably wasn’t really okay.

“Sure,” I replied. “I love Thai food. Remind me not to get anything spicy. That shit BURNS coming back up.”

He nodded, the two of us both playing a role, our hearts not really in the game.

I waddled through the crisp January air and maneuvered myself into the passenger seat of the car, carefully buckling myself in. The moment the seatbelt hit my abdomen, my second son, another boy, began to furiously kick at it for daring to interfere with his space. I smiled a bit, rubbed my son’s head, nestled firmly in my ribcage, and said in my very best (worst) Adam Sandler voice: “He’s gonna be a soccer player.”

We both smiled a bit, each of us lost in our separate galaxy as we tried to not notice that the backseat was missing one occupant, our hands stiff and cold, as we tried to warm them against the sputtering warm air vents of our Pilot. It had been a bitter winter and there was no hint of spring on the horizon. Just dark cold days spent huddled under blankets.

We pulled up to the Thai place and I slithered out of the car, bumping my burgeoning gut on both the door and the car as I tried to maneuver my way onto the sidewalk and into the restaurant. I laughed a bit as I grabbed Daver’s hand, “Wow, it’s busy tonight,” I noted as we wandered through the front doors, “Mmm-hmmm,” Daver replied. “Glad we came when we did.”

The tiny Thai waitress who delighted in my belly every time I saw her (I learned through another waitress that the woman had been trying to get pregnant for many years) greeted us with a, “Hi there! How you doing? Table for two?”

I smiled and said yes, making my way through the maze of tables and trying not to bash someone into their Pad Thai with my belly, which I knew was no easy feat.

We made our way to a tiny cozy table against the wall, a deuce, and we sat, removing our jackets and shaking off the smell of cold. I knew what I wanted to eat, so I didn’t bother opening my menu to peruse the selections I could probably recite from heart if asked. I left the menu closed as Dave opened his, pretending he wasn’t going to order the same thing he always ordered – creatures of habit like to pretend we’re not sometimes – and I began to look around the dining room. People-watching is especially fun while at a restaurant. Maybe it’s the false sense of intimacy, I don’t know, but people tend to behave as they really are while dining out.

My eyes bounced from table to table as my son tap-danced on my bladder, making damn certain that I’d pay attention to that half-an-mL of pee currently sitting in there, until my eyes rested squarely upon another two-top who was…wait. They were both staring at ME!

She was sitting facing me, and he’d swiveled around to face me and they were both staring at me…except they weren’t really STARING so much as murdering me with their eyeballs. Four eyeballs trying to murder me.

I quickly turned my eyes back to my table. That couldn’t have really happened. I mean, I wasn’t DOING anything. It’s not like I’d come in with my pet monkey, Mr. Pinchey, and starting flinging poo around the place.

Shit, maybe I was under-dressed – I was so tired these days, I wouldn’t have put it past me to have gone out wearing a Shut Your Whore Mouth shirt, except this was before I had this blog or a shirt. No, I decided as I looked down, it wasn’t the shirt. And I’d managed to put on pants, which was a plus, so it wasn’t that my wobbly ass was hanging out.

Whew, I breathed a sigh of relief. I was appropriately dressed.

And it’s not like they could’ve known me from my other blog, Mushroom Printing. I’m pretty sure the only picture of me on that blog ever was this, which my co-blogger had put up as a representation of me:

They weren’t Internet People, so what the hell? What gives?

I felt chastised, like I’d done something wrong. The couple were still swiveled around, murdering me with their eyeballs as I tried to figure out WHY.

Finally, I whispered to Daver, “I think those people are staring at me.” Dave’s accustomed to playing the devil’s advocate, so I expected him to say something like, “they’re not staring at you murderously; they’re looking at the statue over your head and trying telekinesis.”

“WOAH,” he said, upon inspection. “What did you DO to them?”

“I have no idea,” I said, pretty shaken. I cross-indexed the Rolodex in my head to see if I could make a connection. Nope.

“I’ve never seen them before in my life,” I whispered in the crowded restaurant, now so acutely uncomfortable that I realized I was on the verge of vomiting. Everything (including air, sleep and pants) made me want to vomit, so this was an unsurprising reaction.

I dashed off to the bathroom to heave as Daver ordered for us.

I stood in front of the mirror as I washed my face, making sure my nose wasn’t bleeding and that I hadn’t gone out accidentally wearing a Swastika or something. I sturdied my legs which were quivering beneath me, ready to face this couple. I was going to find out why the hell they wanted to ruin my dinner. Maybe it was a case of mistaken identity that could be cleared up over some spring rolls or something.

Taking a deep breath, I marched back out into the dining room, veering sharply to the right to confront them.

They were gone.

And they took with them the answers to a puzzle I’ve been replaying in my head for years. I cannot, for the life of me, understand what had happened that night.

Six years later, I’m still confused. I still wonder what had happened to that couple; what made them so full of hate.

I’ll probably never know.

—————–

Has anything like this happened to you, Pranksters?

Comments = full of the awesome. Like gravy. I can haz an RSS RSS feed .

22 Responses to She Thrusts Her Fists Into The Posts And Still Insists She Sees The Ghosts

  • Lex says:

    That’s hella fucked up! It had to have been mistaken identity!

    Or maybe they were just assholes. Or maybe it was both: mistaken identity coupled with the fact that they were (presumably) assholes.

  • Frubs says:

    “I smiled and said yes, making my way through the maze of tables and trying not to bash someone into their Pad Thai with my belly, which I knew was no easy feat.”

    Maybe you bashed them into their Pad Thai with your belly on the way past :D That’s my preferred scenario, anyways.

    In seriousness, that sounds very unnerving…I have no idea what their problem was, perhaps it WAS mistaken identity.

  • Jenn says:

    I once had a woman march up to me in the Walmarts and Yell Home wrecker in to my face. I was 16… so I doubt I wrecked her home. Who knows who she thought I was. It was probably just some freak who thought you were someone else… or maybe they were jelous of what they saw, a happy couple who were expecting a baby.

  • Grace says:

    Wow. That SUCKS! I have had those kinds of situations – including one time when my truck was keyed by some chick. But in my case, they were most likely my now ex-husband’s little trampy girlfriends all pissed off that he was married to me and not them. I wish you could have found out what the hell their problem was. Some people just need a good taco punch.

  • Gav says:

    Love the title for this post!!!!!!

  • alexis
    Twitter: theangelalexistwitter.com
    says:

    My money is on your strong resemblance to an axe murderer who did in one of their nearest and dearest.

  • Cindy DuBois says:

    Maybe they just found out they could never have a baby and they didn’t know why you were so blessed as to be pregnant. What did you have that they didn’t. Why did God love you and not them. Whatever it was, it was them – not you. I think in reality you probably looked adorably pregnant, had that radiant glow, you and the Davers were/are in love and to the other couple you looked like you had everything they would never have.

  • Cindy DuBois says:

    Another question: What does cold smell like? I’m in Texas with 106 degree weather, Monday was 109. I’ve never lived in a place where it snowed. Right now that seems like heaven. But I get it about the long dark winter. Which is why I don’t move to a place it snows.

  • Adrianne says:

    My vote is jealousy but I guess that’s because I’m going through that stage now and I always catch myself glaring at all the preggos wondering when we’ll have enough in the savings account for the dreaded IVF monster. Put it this way, since they were strangers you can feel secure knowing that you don’t have to take it personally.

  • Ami says:

    Maybe they’d just found out they couldn’t have kids and were jealous of your obvious pregnancy? Oh! Did you have your wedding ring on? My sis got some DIRTY looks when she was pregnant and her hands didn’t fit her wedding rings anymore b/c of The Swelling and this being Texas and part of the Bible Belt some people felt the need to educate her about The Error Of Her Ways. She actually has a fake wedding ring now in a huge size she got for cheap at like Walmart when she’s pregnant just to keep the trolls away. lol She was married and everything, she just couldn’t get her rings on anymore.

    I’ve had people randomly hate me all growing up. Not usually total strangers in restaurants but as a kid you either liked me, HATED ME with a fiery passion or thought I was weird. Some how there was no “indifferent” option. As an adult the HATE has seemed to go away (or at least they’re nice enough not to tell me to my face anymore).

    I’m sorry the trolls were mean to you. *hugs*

  • Kristin says:

    Sadly, no. That is, I was never baffled by the evile eyes I got. I spent a good chunk of time avoiding getting beat up for how I looked, acted dressed. At this point I don’t even bother wondering what the problem is. Some people just want to hate you, that’s their problem.

  • Courtney says:

    I immediately thought it was because you were at a Thai place. I’ve known people who are all, “omgz, nevar eat spi-cee foodz while preegerz???!!!1″ (and even one mother who told her daughter that she shouldn’t eat spinach while breast-feeding and I know damn well that poor woman was craving it. That’s why I made it for her!!). Well, what happens when you disobey these injunctions?! You’ll implode of course and how dare you even think about having a tastebud and being outside of your confinement/lying-in! Stupid people are stupid, Aunt Becks.

  • Kate says:

    Mysterioso! I’m guessing it was mistaken identity. I always check for boobage and pants, too, when getting the stink eye. I just assume it’s because I dare to have beautiful, talented children without a wedding ring. My guesses: 1. Mistaken identity to the degree of “zomg that tramp slept with Doreen’s husband and got PREGNANT! TRAMPIDYTRAMPTRAMP, or 2. I’ll never have a baby and she is happily knocked up, or 3. She just stuck her ass in my pad thai!

  • Jolie says:

    I guess you’ll just have to either 1 get over it as assholes will be assholic or B go to the Thai place nightly until you see that couple again, and can ask them WTF. Except that I’d bet that if you asked them, they’d be all “huh?” and all clueless about what you’re talking about. Face it Bex, you rock and some people can’t handle your awesomeness.
    Being who I am, I can totally relate and honestly could feel the anxiety raise up as I read the post. I was actually relieved that they weren’t there when you returned as I can not handle confrontation. How trippy…easy to say let it go but hard to do when you live it. *hugs*

  • Devan says:

    I bet there is some freaky following that believes that it’s bad to eat Thai while pregnant. There are so many people that believe weird stuff about pregnancy and some are rather adimate! Seems a bit overboard to give you the death glare, but that would be my guess. Weirdos.

  • Cindy
    Twitter: WalkerCynthia
    says:

    wow, AB, I have no answers. Some people are just so small that it isn’t about you. they hate themselves, therfore they hate you.

  • SherryH says:

    Freaky. I can think of two possibilities. One, they mistook you for someone else. Two, they’d been trying to get pregnant, and they were furious at your mere pregnant existence.

    Just thought of another. Three, they have very strict beliefs of some sort and were furious that a visibly pregnant woman would dare to be seen in public.

    Oh, and four, they were just… not right, and it wasn’t about you at all. (Hee, and if you want to get all science fictiony, five, they were from the future and you haven’t pissed them off… yet. But you will. Okay, now I’m being silly.)

    Overall, I’d suspect mistaken identity as the most likely call. Very rude of them to disrupt your dinner like that. I hope you and Daver were still able to enjoy your night.

  • Mary Trunk says:

    Well, be grateful they didn’t get up from the table and start screaming and yelling that they were gonna “f” you up and you better watch it because they knew what you did and you were in for it. Because that’s what happened to me once while in the library with my kid. All was quiet and this woman just had it in for me. She screamed at me for a good three minutes and you know what, not a single person helped me. Everyone just stared at their books or computers as if she wasn’t there. Really creepy. She finally stormed off but I stayed at the library way longer than I wanted to in case she was waiting for me outside. Oh and I sympathize about your son going off with his Dad for the weekend. I was one of those kids and I always thought about my mom when I was away. Thanks!

  • Allison says:

    Personally when people glare at me i meet their eyes and raise my eyebrows like “What?” usually that makes people back off, cuz let’s be honest. people hate confontation. :) I just get a giggle out of when they start looking awkward for being caught glaring at someone.

  • Talia says:

    I think it was the glass of wine in your hand that had them staring!!! ;)

  • I have never had anything like this happen. I would probably die if it did. And I much like you would still be wondering about it many years after the fact. That is freaky, maybe it was mistaken identity, but it would still bother me.

  • Heather says:

    I bet it was a joke. Two bored people looking for a way to freak someone out. Seems like a good time to me! ;) Cruel that it was to a preggo…but who knows, there are sick bastards out there!

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