For this story, I’m going to describe it like I’m sitting across from my father and sister one morning in Maryland. Mugs with the morning’s first cup of coffee sat between our hands, my mother is somewhere preparing for the day. My brothers are twiddling their thumbs in the basement or something else, I’m not sure.

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ME: You know, I think someone’s been watching me in LA. 

Group silence.

ME: Yeah, because there was this day, back in April...

I ended up going to the ice rink alone because the kid and I had one CPKsweepstakes card left to play for the chance at $5Ok. I told the kid if he didn’t get his mom to schedule a babysit before I left for New Orleans, I’d have to return it on my own. So that’s what I was doing. I was doing our babysitting routine - a 1pm free skate session followed by a late lunch at CPK. We like the 1pm session because the kids from school aren’t out yet, it’s just us and the adult rink regulars. It’s quiet.

So anyway, on this day, it’s the only day I’ve ever gone to the ice rink alone. As I’m skating around, I see this peculiar man, bald, completely shaven, wearing a black baseball cap, standing at the benches. He sticks out like he’s out of place at the rink. And it wasn’t the first time I’d seen him, I saw him the day before, outside the library. 

Now, the only reason I noticed him outside the library is because he looked like a guy I worked with once. Paul. He’s mormon and lives in Utah so when I saw what ‘could’ve been him’ standing outside the library my brain thought ‘should I say hi? could that be Paul?’ but within seconds, my mind reassured me, ‘Paul lives in Utah, what would he be doing at the library in central LA?’ I walked passed him and through the library sliding doors.

The thing is, Paul looks like he’s a military man. Just like the guy at the rink, bald, clean shaven, wears a black baseball cap and in impeccable athletic shape. When I was on production with Paul, I asked him what his vice was, since he’s mormon, if not alcohol, caffeine, or any sort of drug. He couldn’t think of anything so I offered - what about cookies? He said he liked cookies. But with a sculpted body like that, I don’t think he eats many cookies.

Anyway, the point is because he looked like someone I knew my mind clocked the appearance. So, when I saw the same figure again at the ice rink the following day, I became alarmed. 


My sister sips her coffee.

My father is standing now, making another cup of coffee.

Neither have gotten a word in since I started speaking.


But the thing is, my spidey senses were going before I even walked into the place because when I drove into the parking lot, I saw this white ford escape, it had a greenery wallpaper on it, like it was the vehicle for some sort of lawn care or plant business. I noticed it because I had seen it on my street the days leading up to that day and took note of it because it looked out of place on my street. So when I saw it again, at the ice rink, a Los Angeles suburb away from my street, I thought someone might be following me.

A brief pause.

-or, I’m not sure what I thought. Things were just starting to add up and I was growing uncomfortable and I was alone, without the kid, while the stirrings inside me were getting heavier.

Anyway, after, I grabbed my rental skates and walked into the rink -- that’s when I notice the bald, military-esque man standing in the bench area. At this point, me and the kid had been to the 1pm free skate session enough times to know who the rink regulars were because like I said, this was the session before the chaos of after school entertainment ensues - and I had never seen this man, or his child before.

But, I’m here at the rink so I start skating, keeping one eye on the ice and one eye on the black shadowy figure, let’s just call him Paul for the sake of simplicity.

So, Paul’s standing there in his all black outfit and black fitted baseball cap with his arms wrapped around his chest. You know, the way men do when they want to appear tough, strong, durable, anything but weak and nervous. Which is exactly how you know that’s what they’re really feeling. It’s like a reflex. 

My dad unfolds his arms. 

Exactly. 

So, Paul is at the benches and after a few laps around the rink, I notice he’s there watching a kid have some one on one time with a coach in the middle. Like I said, we know the rink regulars and not only has Paul never been to this rink before, but I’ve never seen his kid or this coach before. Now, the kid and I have had an altercation with one of the coaches before. I shouldn’t use that word, but let’s just say I know who’s who when it comes to the hockey coaches (re: thanks for that, asshole). So, I’m starting to pay closer and closer attention to this black shadowy figure that feels like it’s been following me around. That’s when things start to get intense. 

My father sits back down with his fresh cup of coffee.

My sister takes another sip from her cup. 

Neither have gotten a word in since I started speaking.

My mother peers into the kitchen with an apparent question to ask but leaves frame silently, noticing neither of my brothers are in the room and I’m still telling a story. This is a very typical scenario for the six of us.

You know, because now I’m getting a little scared. Because I’m keeping my cool, I’m skating around casually, pausing briefly to take a sip of my 711 coffee that I like to pick up before sessions so that I have a nonchalant reason to take a break. But I’m keeping my eye on the three of them. I’m watching their dynamic and I’m sorry, it just doesn’t seem like a father and son duo. But I’m keeping busy, skating around, listening to my music.

Until my mind starts to pry. Because who is this guy? And why do I feel him keeping an eye on me if he’s just a dad watching his son get a one on one session with a hockey coach in the middle of free skate on a random Wednesday? Why does it feel like even the kid is in on it? Like he knows they’re there watching me? So, I start watching them, not so casually. I mean, not aggressively but I’m not trying to hide it anymore.

That’s when things get intense. Because now Paul can feel me watching him and I’m starting to be less shy about it. And I’m keeping my posture curious, I’m playing the part of innocent ice skater, having the eyes for regular dad. You know, I’m using my womanhood to see what’s going on. Because if this is just another dad at the rink, looking at me with interest and I’m just another single woman at the rink, looking back at him with interest - there’s no harm, there’s no foul. 

My father takes a sip of his coffee.

My sister gets up to make her second cup of coffee.

Neither have gotten a word in since I started speaking.

We’re about an hour or so into the free skate session now, because like I said, I’m taking my time gathering all the sensorial information I can. But it’s weighing on me, things are really starting to feel off with this guy and his kid. So, I decide, to muster up the courage to look him in the eye. I decide I’m going to do it and then I give myself one more full rink skate loop around to do it. 

I’m coming around the long end of the rink, I’m approaching the runway of ice where it’s most natural for me to have a look at this presumably single dad who’s been checking me out all free skate - and I look right at him. He keeps his head facing front but I see his eyes dart to the left as he makes eye contact with me. It’s a moment’s notice and I watch his eyes spasm like his worst fear just came true. The woman he’s been sent to keep an eye on just got an eye on him. But he keeps his composure. He doesn’t flinch his arms or posture, it’s only in the eyes I can tell what just happened. And my look was of innocence, of wonder.

Of course, I knew what I was doing but I was playing my part. Letting my arms swing with the tune of my music as I skate around with my big, black, noise cancelling headphones. It’s clear I’m there just to pass the time, like the other grown rink regulars. I’m not a child out of school or an aspiring figure skater - I’m an adult with a hobby. 

The way he reacted to our eye’s first meeting was enough for me to know, this isn’t some innocent dad just watching his kid get better at skating, this is someone watching me. I know this because a regular dad would’ve just let the moment pass. Paul got aggressively flustered, like his mark was now aware they were a target.

So, I keep skating the loop, pretending like I didn’t notice his spasm, I’m keeping things casual but now I’m nervous as all hell. I’m starting to become afraid and I don’t fear easily. I want to play the moment right, I don’t want too much time to pass between the last meeting of two eyes and our next. 

My father, sitting, takes a sip of his coffee.

My sister, standing, takes a sip of her fresh coffee.

Neither have gotten a word in since I started speaking.

So, I prepare myself during the loop. I tell myself, I’m gonna look into his eyes again and see what happens because there’s only two possibilities of who this man could be - he’s either a father, or someone sent to watch me. A father could get nervous if he accidentally locked eyes with the cute young woman skating around the rink. This is what I’m thinking as I skate my way to the place on the rink where I can naturally look his way again.

I’m playing the part of curious girl, this time I’m less casual and more inquisitive. This time, when I look into the eyes of his face they’re not looking at me, they’re looking straight ahead at the back of the ice rink’s wall. They look like glass from angle. They look like the eyes of a man who’s been to war before. It feels like he’s behind a bush, pretending not to be caught on enemy line’s. It’s one of the scariest things I’ve ever seen. I’d never seen a man look that way before.

My blood is boiling, pulsating, I’m turning red but I’m on ice. I don’t know what to do. Once I skate pass him he starts to motion to the kid he’s “watching” to get off the ice. I’m doing my next loop, keeping an eye on them out of the corner of my peripherals but not looking directly at them. The kid is hurriedly moving to the edge of the ice in all his hockey gear and as I pass by the kid, he looks up at me. Like he was also informed I was the target that day. This sends more chills down my spine.

I make my way through the loop of the rink, so shaken and stirred I take a seat on my bench and a sip from my 711 coffee and I start to take off my skates. The kid and the dad are in my peripherals, I can sense they’re watching me, they can sense I’m watching them. In a moment’s notice, I put on my sneakers, grab my coffee and purse and I book it out of that place and head to the CPK to turn in our final sweepstakes card.

I can feel from the energy of the day, it’s not a winning card. Our favorite server, Dillon isn’t there. Our less-liked server, Preston, isn’t even there. I’m completely alone and terrified. I order my lunch and hand the server our once-deemed-lucky card from Febrauary 22nd and I’m not surprised when the manager tells me, we haven’t won the sweepstakes.