The Strange Tale of Stanley Russ

I sat alone in my living room, fiddling with my thumbs, thinking of nothing, doing nothing.

It was an early Saturday morning, and I couldn't sleep. What finally got me out of bed was a loud thump from upstairs. Must've been someone falling out of bed, I supposed. Either way, it startled me enough to get me moving.

I kept replaying the encounter with the Faceless Girl over and over in my mind.

At this point, I was convinced she was real. What happened couldn't have been a figment of my imagination—my imagination wasn't that vivid.

I didn't know what to do. There was nothing I could do. I wanted to call Wendy, just to have her come over and restore some semblance of normalcy. To have someone comfort me. I felt utterly alone and scared.

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I ended up passing the time by watching a couple of movies, and before I knew it, it was getting close to noon.

As one movie ended and I was taking the disc out, there was a knock at my door.

I went to peek through the hole and was surprised to see May standing there.

I opened the door for her.

"Hi," she said with a smile and a little wave.

"Yo."

"Can I come in?" she asked.

I let her in.

Her demeanor seemed a bit friendlier than usual, but that wasn't new. She'd often cycle between treating me like I didn't exist and acting like a kind, well-meaning girlfriend. It would last a few days before she inevitably reverted to her usual coldness. I was sick of the routine.

"So, what've you been up to?" she asked.

"Nothing. Just finished watching a movie."

"Oh, yeah? What movie?"

"Taxi Driver." I shrugged. "It's my favorite."

"Is it? I've never seen it."

An awkward silence settled between us.

She looked distracted, confused even, like something was on her mind. That wasn't like her.

"Is something the matter?" I asked.

She rubbed the back of her head. "No, just… a weird dream I had."

"A weird dream?"

"I don't know. Can't remember."

And with a wave of her hand, she walked over and plopped down on the couch.

That was her signal that the conversation was over. It always was.

She pulled out her phone and began mindlessly tapping at the screen.

The truth was, I didn't feel any connection with May anymore. In hindsight, I wasn't sure if we ever had one. We'd only started "dating" because I wanted to sleep with her. Even now, I wasn't sure if we were really dating. I slept with her once, started giving her money, and she just… stayed around, like a stray cat you feed.

I grabbed my coat off the rack and slipped on my shoes. "I'm going for a walk," I told her, heading for the door. "There's food in the fridge if you get hungry."

"'Kay."

I shut the door behind me.

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I decided to visit one of the few friends I still kept in contact with, Yamada Mitsubishi. He was a handsome young man, a year older than me, whom I'd met in college.

We shared a dorm back then, and his house wasn't far from campus. He'd often throw parties there, and some of us would tag along.

I only went to three of his parties. I was more focused on my studies—not that they'd amounted to anything in the end.

Yamada was a womanizer, which earned him the nickname "Casanova." At his parties, girls would sometimes walk around completely nude, and by the end of the night, the house would often resemble a brothel. I'd slept with a couple of girls there, though I couldn't remember their names or faces now.

As I walked in the direction of his house, I texted him to see if he was home. He replied quickly, confirming he was, so I told him I was on my way.

It took me about twenty minutes to arrive.

I rang the doorbell, and almost immediately, the door swung open.

Standing before me was a young woman with light tan skin and wet, dark brown hair. She wore nothing but a white towel.

His sister? No, she looked American—maybe Brazilian. Definitely not related to Yamada. She had to be another woman he was sleeping with.

The towel didn't do much to conceal her curvy hips or her medium-sized breasts.

"You're Yamada's friend, yeah?"

"Uh-huh."

"Alright," she said, opening the door wider to let me in. She then walked up the stairs, her towel swaying with her movements.

"Where's Yamada?" I called after her.

"He's in the living room. You'll see him!" she yelled back.

I stepped inside, shutting the door behind me. To my right was the dining room, and further ahead, the kitchen.

The living room was also to the right, so I headed in that direction.

There he was, sprawled out on the couch, scrolling through his phone.

"Yo," I said.

"What's up?" he replied without looking up.

"Who's that?"

"Hm? Who?"

"The girl."

"Oh, Selene," he said, still not looking away from his phone. "She's some girl I'm sleeping with right now. She's tight and has a fat ass."

"That, I saw. Got a cigarette?"

He pulled a pack from the pocket of his Hawaiian shirt and handed me one, lighting it for me.

"So, what've you been up to?" he asked.

My thoughts drifted to the strange dream I'd had, the Faceless Girl, May, and Wendy.

"Nothing," I replied. "Can't say anything of note has been happening."

"That right?"

"Yeah."

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Yamada, Selene, and I spent a few hours playing Smash Bros before I got a text from May, telling me she was leaving the house.

I was surprised she'd stayed that long.

I said my goodbyes to the two of them and headed home.