Conjuring the Stone-Age Shades

The first time I saw him, he was standing in the middle of the street. It was unusually hot for early October and I remember walking home with a frozen bottle of water and sweating my ass off. He was just standing there, in the middle of the road, like he was waiting for a bus or something.

It was a little after nine o’clock and still reasonably light out, so I stared at him, because if it was dark he would have looked like a giant, fucking Sasquatch. He was taller than me, easily six foot four or five, but still too far away to get a good look at his face. He wore jeans and a black shirt, but not a t-shirt, more like a dress shirt, buttoned up all the way, even though it was ninety degrees out. He didn’t raise his hand to glance at his watch or make any other gesture that indicated he was waiting for someone. He just stood there, staring straight ahead, leaning on his left leg and then his right, kind of half-shuffling.

I stopped walking and watched him for a minute, trying to figure out what the hell he was doing, until I realized that I was standing directly under a streetlight, and he wasn’t. So I kept walking. When I got home, I told my parents about him, and they said, “That guy? Yeah, he’s been around for a while. Just a local nutcase.”

The next day, I saw him again. Only this time, he was walking. I was walking down the main drag, and he walked right in front of me. I almost bumped into him, and he didn’t even look at me. He walked right through me, like I wasn’t even there. He didn’t even seem to notice.

I was pretty creeped out. That evening, I went to the bookstore. It was one of those old, independent bookstores that carried new and used books, and it was actually pretty cool. It had a small coffee shop attached to it, where I usually went to read. That evening, as I was sitting in the back corner, sipping my latte, I looked up and saw him. He was sitting in the opposite corner, reading a book.

I stared at him, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. He was wearing the same clothes as the day before. I thought maybe he worked here, but I didn’t recognize him. Finally, I got up and went to the counter to ask.

“No, we haven’t hired anyone new,” the owner said. “We’ve had a lot of regulars lately, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve seen him before.”

I nodded, thanked her, and sat back down. He looked *so* familiar. But I couldn’t place him. He finished his book and left the store, and I was too scared to go after him. Instead, I stayed in the coffee shop until closing, and then walked home.

The next day, I didn’t see him again. I started wondering if I had imagined him, or if I had only seen him when I was tired and stressed out. I stopped thinking about him, but I always made sure I left the store before he did, just in case. I was probably being ridiculous, but I didn’t want to run into him.

On Saturday, I went to the movies with my friends. We went to a matinee showing, because the tickets were cheaper, and I thought it would be a fun afternoon. The movie was a horror film, and I was a little freaked out by it, no matter how ridiculous it was. I was too scared to talk about it when we left the theater, so we decided to go for dessert instead. We walked towards a small ice cream shop, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw him again.

This time, I wasn’t scared of him. I just wanted to talk to him. I was starting to get annoyed at myself for being so afraid of an adult who was probably perfectly nice. I knew I was being silly, but I was still on edge.

I ran up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned and looked at me, with big brown eyes and a shiny, smooth face. No wrinkles, and not a hair on his head. I was even more surprised when he smiled at me.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m Josh,” I held out my hand and he shook it, smiling all the while. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around town before.”

He shook his head. “No. I’m from the mountains.”

“Oh. Cool,” I said. “Do you mind if I walk with you? I’m meeting some friends for ice cream.”

“Sure,” he said.

We walked side by side and talked about our favorite ice cream flavors. He liked mint chocolate chip, and I liked butter pecan.

“What’s your name?” I asked, as we approached the door of the ice cream shop.

“Gianna,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, Gianna,” I said.

“You too, Josh,” he said, and walked into the shop.

I met up with my friends, and Gianna waved to us as he ordered ice cream. I waved back and ordered my butter pecan.

As I was waiting on my ice cream, I saw him walk across the street, staring straight ahead. I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary until I saw him disappear. One second he was there, the next he was gone. I stared at where he had been, until my friends tapped me on the shoulder.

“Earth to Josh. You’re holding up the line, man,” Tony said.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m sorry.” I paid for my ice cream, and we walked outside.

“Who ya talking to?” Mark asked.

“A guy I met. His name is Gianna,” I said.

“Oh,” Mark said. “I’ve heard of him. He’s a mountain man.”

“He said he lived in the mountains,” I said. “He’s a nice guy.”

“Yeah, he’s a good guy,” Mark said. “He helps out a lot of people. He’s been around for a long time.”

“Yeah, everyone I talked to knows him,” I said.

“He’s been around for a long time,” Mark repeated. “I don’t think he’s ever had a conversation with anyone. It’s pretty cool that you got to talk to him.”

“Really?” I said.

“Yeah, you know, the guy’s like sixty years old,” Mark said. “He’s always alone.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling sad. “Poor guy.”

“Don’t feel bad,” Mark said. “He’s happier that way.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I guess so.”

“Shall we get something to eat?” Mark asked.

“Yeah,” I said.

We went to lunch, and then I headed home. My mom had made lasagna for dinner, and I was hungry. I hadn’t noticed that it was so late, but when I got home, it was getting dark. I walked up to my house and saw Gianna standing on the steps of my front porch. I walked up to him and smiled.

“Hi, Josh,” he said. “How was your day?”

“Good,” I said. “How was yours?”

“Good,” he replied, and smiled.

“I’m really glad I got to meet you,” I said.

“Me too,” he said.

We stood there for a minute, looking at each other, and then he said, “I’d better go. Please tell your mother goodnight for me.”

“I will. Goodnight, Gianna,” I said.

He smiled and walked away. I watched him disappear down the sidewalk