Chapter 13

After my appointment with Dr. Woolworth, Haji insists on walking me home.

“You know I can see in the dark, right?” I ask.

“I know. But you were attacked. On the university grounds,” Haji says.

“Thanks for reminding me.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s okay, Haji. You know, I bet one day people will opt to have themselves upgraded. I mean, my prosthetic oculi are savage.”

“That will be so cool. I’m totally game. Like new feet. I read a story about a guy, I think he’s a professor at an Ivy League school, who has these artificial feet that make it easier to climb rocks. Like free climbing.”

After twenty minutes or so, we turn onto my street. Haji offers to help me with my American history assignment, which I take him up on. The night is young, and I know I need to write one hell of an essay to earn a good grade from Mrs. Higgins. That woman hates me more than ever since I’ve returned with my cybernetic eyes. I have a sneaking suspicion she doesn’t like Asian people, but she’s too careful to say anything out-and-out racist.

When we reach my house, Dad’s hybrid is in the driveway. Apparently, he successfully navigated the wintry roads to bring my grandparents safely to our abode. To be honest, I’m relieved. After he nearly slammed into the tow truck, I’ve been wondering how little he remembers about driving in Wisconsin during the winter.

“My grandparents are here,” I say. “Just a warning.”

Grandma and Grandpa are in the front hallway to greet us when I open the door. My grandparents grab me in a tight embrace, and Grandma plants a wet kiss on my cheek. They ask me about my prosthetic eyes.

“They are awesome. Can you tell my eyes are fake?”

My grandparents squint at me. Grandpa gets right up in my face, and I smell the coffee on his breath.

“No.” He shakes his head. “Look real to me.”

“Who is this young man?” Grandma asks, smiling at Haji.

“Is this he your boyfriend, Allison?” Grandpa asks.

My face flushes. Before I can splutter a response, Haji answers. “No, we’re just friends. I’m here because Allison graciously offered to help me with some homework.”

“Oh, leave the children alone. They need to study,” Grandma says.

“I’m just making conversation,” Grandpa grouses as he ambles toward the living room.

Haji mounts the stairs, taking two at a time. I move to follow him when Grandma catches my eye. I stop, thinking she has something to say. Instead, she winks at me and flashes a wicked smile. I swear my prosthetics nearly pop out of my head. Grandma takes my forearm and pats the back of my hand.

“Play hard to get, dear,” Grandma says. “It drives the boys crazy. Don’t play too hard to get, though. It’s okay to be frisky. Just not too frisky. You’ll do fine.”

Grandma releases my arm and gently pats my cheek that must be about as burning red as a ripe tomato. She turns and heads to the living room. My grandmother just told me to be frisky. Ewwww.

I hope Haji didn’t catch that. The second-floor hallway creaks from overhead. That’ll be him walking to my bedroom. He probably didn’t hear Grandma. I dash up the stairs before anyone else can sideline me to offer up free advice.

“Hey,” Haji says when I enter my room.

“Sorry about that,” I say. His laptop is out on my desk, and the homework assignment is open on the screen. “My grandparents have trouble with boundaries.”

“No worries,” Haji says and smiles.

I crinkle my nose, smelling something.

“Do you smell anything?” I ask.

Haji glances at me. “Umm…no.”

I sniff the air again, detecting a mixture of eucalyptus and menthol with an undercurrent of sweat. Where do I recognize that odor from? A dark figure flashes in my mind’s eye, arm raised overhead, holding something. Holding…a club or a lead pipe. I gasp. The muscles across my upper back and chest tighten painfully as if I’m being crushed by a giant’s gnarled hand.

“What is that smell?” I say, voice shrill.

The pipe whistles through the air, water droplets flying off its surface. My throat constricts. I gulp for air and stumble over the unwashed clothes strewn across the carpet. I use my hand to catch myself against the wall and stand there feeling displaced like I have one foot in my room and the other on the damp grass of Tahoma University on that storm-ravaged night.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Haji comes to my side and puts a hand on my shoulder.

The stench of eucalyptus and menthol rolls off him, thick and strong. I back away, glaring at him until his hand falls away.

“You stink. Stay away from me. What is that damn smell?”

“It’s a new body spray. I just put some on, so you won’t smell my BO.”

“Go wash it off.”

Haji stares at me dumbly.

“Now!” I point to the hallway.

Haji nods. “Okay. Okay.”

He darts from the room. I stagger to my bed and flop down. That smell. I don’t remember the details, like my assailant’s face or anything like that, but I do recall how it felt to turn around to find a shadowy figure stalking me, ready to attack. I shake and start crying for the first time since I’ve had my prosthetics installed.

Haji returns to the room with my dad in tow. I’m sobbing uncontrollably. They stare at me like a pair of idiots, which makes me cry even harder. There is nothing they can do for me, and that makes it worse.

“Allison,” Dad says and rushes over to the bed. He sits next to me and puts an arm around my shoulders. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

I’m crying too hard to get any words out.

“She started complaining about my body spray, Mr. Lee,” Haji says. “She screamed at me to wash it off. When I came back to the room, she was crying like this. It’s so unlike her. I was scared, so I came to get you.”

I choke back sobs. “The body spray. What is it?”

Haji stares at me in puzzlement. “It’s just something I picked up at the drugstore.”

“What’s so important about the body spray?” Dad asks.

“Whoever attacked me was wearing that body spray.” I clench my fists at my sides. Anger, hot and terrible, mixes with my fear. I want to scream and pound the walls. I want to punch someone. “I’m certain of it. I remember the attack now. No details, but I remember.”

As I talk, Haji goes to my desk and digs around inside his backpack. He pulls out a spray bottle.

“Here it is,” Haji says.

The bottle is black with bold gold lettering, stating: Manscape Bodywhiskey. An italicized subscript reads: hide the odor, attract the ladies. I laugh so hard that I snort. They both look at me, Dad incredulous and Haji embarrassed.

“Hide the odor, attract the ladies? Seriously? The asshat who attacked me was wearing that?”

“It’s very popular,” Haji says.

I laugh even harder. He sounds defensive. He actually sounds defensive. The tension eases from me. This is just too funny.

“I researched it. Really,” Haji says.

“Read all the reviews, did you?” I smirk. “Oh, I believe you.”

“You remember something? About the attack?” Dad says.

“Don’t get excited. It’s not much.” I fill them in.

Grandma calls from downstairs, interrupting my tale. “What’s all that ruckus? You need something, Ray?”

“Allison thinks she remembers something about the attack,” Dad calls.

“Do you hear that, George?” Grandma says.

There is a pause. Then Grandma says in an even louder voice, “Allison remembers something about the attack.”

“You better call those detectives,” Grandpa bellows from downstairs. “Get that goddamn ne’er-do-well behind bars.”

My grandparents continue their conversation in loud voices. The stairs creak.

“Is there anything else?” Dad asks me.

I shake my head. “I just remember a tall, dark figure. Maybe wearing a trench coat. That’s it.”

“That’s something,” Haji says, his voice rising. He makes a fist with his left hand and smacks it against his palm. “You should contact the police. That’s something for them to go on.”

“I don’t know—”

Grandpa interrupts me. “Contact the cops.” He and Grandma huddle in the doorway. “Every little bit of information helps. Every little bit.”

Dad snags his cell phone from his pants pocket and pulls out a card for Detective Nora Wolf. He calls the detective, who must answer on the first ring.

“Hello, Detective Wolf. This is Raymond Lee. My daughter Allison is remembering something.” He pauses and takes a breath. “Yes. Here she is.”

Dad hands me the phone. I’m very aware of everyone staring at me like I’m an actor on a stage.

“Hello. Detective Wolf?”

“Hello, Allison. We met at the hospital.”

“I know.”

“You remember something about the attack?”

I tell her what I remember.

“A dark figure in a trench coat,” Detective Wolf muses. “Do you remember any specifics? The assailant’s height? Build? The color of the coat?”

“No. Like I said, what I remember clearest is the smell. Oh, and he had a lead pipe. I’m pretty sure about that.”

“Okay. That confirms what we suspected about the weapon. Now, the smell. Manscape Bodywhiskey. You’re sure about that?”

I explain about Haji wearing it and the flashback, adding, “It’s a very distinctive smell.”

“I know. My son uses that body spray. Thank you for the information. If we make any progress, we’ll contact you. Of course, if you remember anything else, call us. Good night.”

After the incident with the body spray, Haji goes home with strict instructions not to wear the body spray around me ever again. While eating dinner with my family, I wonder why he decided to wear the body spray in the first place. That is so unlike him.

Dalia and I exchange text messages on the subject. She assures me that it is just something high school boys do. Devin does. She gives me the full scoop on her dates with Devin and hints, not very subtly, that I should snag a boy so we can double date. With everything going on in my life right now, a boyfriend is out of the question.

It’s all hands on deck for Thanksgiving. The kitchen is buzzing with preparation starting at about nine a.m., and that’s with Dad having ordered a ready-made Thanksgiving feast from O’Hannen’s Grocery down the road. Cooking is not really my thing, but helping my grandma make homemade rolls isn’t that bad. She’s kind and loving and doesn’t bring up anything related to friskiness. My worry disappears as I knead the gooey dough and discuss school with her.

Joe rings the doorbell at two p.m. on the dot. He possesses an impeccable sense of time. I suppose it comes from all the years he spent in the military.

“You never said nothing about having family over,” Joe says when I answer the door. Apparently, he caught a glimpse of Grandpa through the front window. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

Joe walks in place and keeps his hands underneath his armpits. His breath smokes from his mouth like a steam engine. There is a biting chill in the air that stings my cheeks.

“Joe, come on,” I say. “They’ll love you. We’re letting all the heat out. Come in.”

“Allison, who is it?” Dad asks.

“He’s not expecting me? Allison—”

“Oh, Joe. Come in. Come in.”

I glance over my shoulder. Dad is standing in the hallway.

Joe shakes his head. “No. No. I can’t impose, Mr. Lee. Just stopping by to wish Allison here a happy Thanksgiving.”

“Joe.” Dad crosses his arms in front of his chest. He puts on a mock stern professor face. “It’s never an imposition to have you here. Especially after you saved Allison. In fact, she started to remember about the attack.” I shoot him a dirty glare. “Sorry. Not something we necessarily want to talk about.”

Joe looks at me. “Remembering something about the attack, huh? I’ll stick around, but you need to tell me what you remember.”

My grandparents are welcoming to Joe, and he listens attentively to my grandfather’s innumerable ghost tales from South Florida. The dinner turns out fantastic, especially the rolls. I eat three slathered in butter. The rolls are so light and fluffy they melt in my mouth. Joe and I compete over who can eat more turkey. I win. It seems my meat craving still refuses to abate. While Dad and Grandma prepare the pumpkin pie in the kitchen, I run to my room to retrieve my grand-prize winning photo of Joe and my camera.

“So this is the photo your dad has told me so much about.” Granddad holds the photo up to the light, his eyes narrowing. “You did a great job on the exposure. Wonderful shot. Is this of you, Joe?”

“Sure is. Your granddaughter, she’s a wizard. I know I don’t look that good in real life.” Joe chuckles.

Grandma comes in from the kitchen burdened with two plates of pumpkin pie topped with whipped cream. “Joe, you are a plenty handsome man. Have some pie.”

Dad follows Grandma with three more plates. Everyone is so relaxed and happy. I start snapping pictures. By the time everyone has finished their pumpkin pie, I’ve shot dozens of photos.

After dinner, Joe insists on helping to clean up. The two of us take dishwashing duties. Once my family retires to the living room, Joe questions me about the assault. I tell him what I remember and begin to shake. I set the glass I’m holding down in the sink out of fear I might break it with my bare hand. I take a deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to tie down the rage rising up from my guts.

“What’s wrong? You fearful?” Joe says. “If you’re upset, say no more.”

“Not upset, exactly. Angry,” I say through gritted teeth. “Give me a sec.” After a few deep breaths, I tell the remainder of what I recall.

“Manscape, huh?” Joe says. “That beanpole friend of yours is wearing that?”

I finish washing the glass and hand it to Joe. “It’s surprising. It’s totally unlike him to pay attention to stuff like that.”

Joe laughs. “Allison, I can tell you why he’s putting on bod spray, girl. He’s into you, plain as day.”

“Haji? No way.”

“Maybe you’re just too innocent in the ways of the male of the species to notice the signs.” Joe sets down the dried glass. He points to his eyes. “I took one look at him yesterday. Shit. He’s smitten.”