Chapter 5
Hello, Claire.
Since sending her on my little treasure hunt, Claire hasn’t answered my texts.Oh, Claire, this makes me feel a bit uneasy about our relationship. A bit stabby. I hoped she would be more pliable to our situation. I thought she was when she ran around her tiny row-house apartment she lives in this morning, taking off work, making her little bereavement plans. Crying and crying. I truly felt I had her under my control.
I stood just outside the open window to her kitchen and watched her eat her cereal, just as it started to snow. She took one bite then forgot about the rest as she stared down at the table. She’s one of those women who leaves her windows wide open, even when the snow came in, fat flakes melting as they hit down against her curtains. It never crossed her mind someone might be lurking; watching. I’m quite surprised Claire’s never learned to have a better sense of safety or privacy. Anyone could just peek in and watch her. Climb in and hurt her. Drag her out and take her. Hasn’t she ever watched a horror movie? All sorts of horrible things are possible.
I watched with bated breath as her friend walked her to the car this morning, tears in her eyes. The friend’s eyes not Claire’s. Then I stood in the cold, beneath the windowsill while her friend ate the rest of Claire’s unfinished breakfast and left the dirty dishes in the sink.What sort of friends do you keep, Claire?She flipped through a few pages of a book Claire was reading then tossed it to scroll Instagram. Her profile is public, so I heart the idiotic picture she just took of Claire’s book pretending she actually read it. Ah, the greatness of social media: the never-ending pursuit to prove to a few hundred followers that you’re not a lonely, shallow loser and you have a perfect life.Be jealous of me, please.It’s the only way I can feel better about myself. The friend stayed until she got a text that someone was there to pick her up. She left, locking up the front door. They both left the windows open. Those windows are always open. So, I climbed inside. Again. Who wants to stay outside in the snow?
Not me.
A few hours later, the ground is pristine and white. The tree branches in the front yard bend and creak with the weight of the snow. I sit in the kitchen sipping the coffee I made from your last scoop of grounds. It’s watered down and tasteless, but it’s the only thing keeping me awake.Maybe if you’re good, Claire, if you do everything I ask of you, maybe I’ll splurge and buy you a Keurig.What’s that worth to you, Claire?
The GPS on her phone tells me she’s an hour away, somewhere in the mountains.Oh, Claire, are you too afraid to come home in the snow with your car?That thing is a death box.Didn’t I hear once the Radcliffes only drove Porsches?
If you’re not home by nightfall, maybe I’ll stay here tonight and sleep on your bed, Claire. Under your covers. Between your sheets. I’ll wait for you.
I sit back on her couch, kicking up my boots on her coffee table. Bored, I grab her laptop and wonder what secrets I might be able to find. It’s old and heavy. I don’t even need a password. It’s open to her AOL account and I read through all of her boring emails. I click open her file marked passwords and write them all down on the small notepad she keeps next to her empty refrigerator. When I get hungry, I crunch on ice cubes. I don’t want to waste her last pack of Ramen.
What in the world is taking you so long, Claire Radcliffe?
Fine, Claire, while I wait, I’ll pull up my favorite porn site and empty myself all over your pillows.
Once,
Twice,
Three times.
