It wasn’t the first time Kennedy had said someone was following him, nor the first time he didn’t show up where he was supposed to be. It came with the territory, with issues like his. Joanie knew not to panic. He’d turn up sooner or later, dirty and skinny and tired. He’d sleep in her guest room for three days, and then they’d talk about rehab. Again.

They’d been down this road before.

At least, that was what Joanie thought. When he didn’t turn up on her doorstep, and he didn’t come to their meeting spot by the benches at the park for his regular check in for the fifth day in a row, she started to worry.

It’s the disease, she told herself. He was unreliable. Unpredictable. He’d frightened her before. None of this was new. It was the cycle. The delusions would come. They’d get louder and louder, rattling his mind and body until he couldnt take it. He’d self medicate with the pills. Then he’d need a little something stronger to keep the voices at bay. Then a little more. Then he’d go AWOL. Joanie never knew where he went when he dropped out of her life. “There are some things about me I don’t want you to know, Jo.” Ominous, Joanie thought, but he’s here now— he’s safe. That’s all that mattered. Until next time.

Joanie dug her phone out of her bag, her cold hands fumbling through the contents of her purse. She checked her texts. She’d send four messages, all unreturned. She dialed his number and waited, feeling foolish as she did so. He never answered, even when he wasn’t on a bender. No surprise, it went to voicemail.

She thought back to the last time they spoke. They’d met by the benches then walked to the little diner around the corner so she could buy him lunch, as was their habit. He picked at his food and kept glancing over his shoulder and out the window.

“Is something bothering you?” she’d asked with trepidation. Something was always bothering him. She cared, but she almost didn’t want to know. What would it be this time? Government conspiracy? Stalker ex that didn’t exist?

“Someone’s been following me,” he said, his voice low.

Ah, thought Joanie.

“Who would be following you?” she asked mildly, stirring her coffee. She’d lost her appetite.

“Dunno,” he grunted, “but he’s always there. A man in a black coat.”

Joanie leaned in. “Are they here now?”

He scanned the restaurant. “No. But he’s close.”

She gripped the napkin in her lap, then released. She needed to be delicate about this. “Have you thought any more about the place I showed you?” She’d folded a pamphlet for a mental health and substance abuse residential treatment center into his hand at their last meeting. He hadn’t acknowledged her, but he took it. She chewed her lip.

“Can’t afford it,” he grunted.

“You know that’s not true. We have that money from mom.”

“That’s for you and the kids.”

“It’s for you, too,” she said, but she knew this was a pointless battle. Kennedy never took anything for himself. He was always thinking of others. He had a good heart. That’s why it hurt so much to see him this way.

He shook his head. “Now’s not a good time. I need to be able to move. To breathe. I can’t be caged.”

“No one is caging you.”

He jumped up suddenly, slamming the table and sloshing their coffees down the side of their mugs. “I have to go, he’s coming.”

Joanie caught him by the sleeve. “Ken, don’t go, I’m—“

“He’ll find me. I’m going. I’m going.”

He hurried to the restaurant door and out onto the street, quickly disappearing into the crowd.

Joanie thumbed the clasp on her purse, still seated on the park bench without Kennedy. It couldn’t be true, right? He was just off on another bender, in his dark place he didn’t want her to know about. Right?

But what if she was wrong? What if he’d overdosed? What if something had happened to him?

And there couldn’t really be a man in a black coat.

Could there?

To be continued...