“Uh… dead too.”
He smiles. “I think the world has come to an end. The always organized on-top-of-it-all Mischa Lombardi’s phoneandlaptop are both dead.”
“I know…” I stammer. “I’m not sure what’s wrong with me.”
“Nothing’s wrong with you, sweetie. You are human after all.”
I smile, mildly annoyed. “That I am. And by the way, dinner will be late tonight. About six-twenty or so.”
He laughs. “Oh no, how will we survive?”
I roll my eyes, my thoughts brought back to Ava. I’m not done with her.
This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.
Part II
Obsession
5
I’m stalking her on my own laptop now. It’s much safer this way. Her Facebook feed is public. Someone should really teach this girl about privacy settings. There’s no reason why a psycho like me should be able to access every photo, and every single detail of her life. I know this girl better than I know my own niece. Don’t her parents care? Personally, I am on top of everything Tristan and Trevor are doing on-line. They’re certainly not exposed like this.
I haven’t worked all day, too obsessed with this girl. Following hours of creeping, I’ve found out so much about her. As much as I’d like to, I don’t hate her. She’s kind of sweet. It’s actually difficult to reconcile this girl with the behavior I’m sure she’s involved in — seduction of an older married man. But I know more than most, appearances are just an illusion. She might want to appear very innocent to her parents and family, despite the fact that she may be anything but.
She posts relatively often, as most girls her age do. Most of her posts appear to be linked to her Instagram account: mundane things, trivial happenings and lots of depressing quotes. She always wears the same Roots sweater — must be a favorite. Yesterday, she painted her nails purple. The day before, she had a veggie burger at a spot near me. I love the veggie burger there too. Could she be vegetarian? Her cat’s name is Trixie — it reminds me of that colorful cereal I used to love as a kid. I don’t have that kind of food in my house now.
Trixie is a frequent star on her Facebook feed, and her friends Karla and Jessie. Karla Mendez is darker, most likely of latino descent, and Jessie is a bubbly little blonde. They’re both pretty, but not as beautiful as Ava.
I wondered if Ava could possibly be a student of Brian’s, but was reassured when I gleaned that she attends Wright College in Humbolt Park. I also discovered that her birthday is April 7th, and she is eighteen years old — older than originally thought. This relieved me immensely because even if my husband is cheating on me, at least he’s not a pedophile.
In one of the photos, she is standing right next to the sign in front of her college, a silent invitation:Come and kidnap me. You know where I go to school.I know she’s an adult and older than my boys, but I would never, ever let Tristan and Trevor be so easily tracked down on social media. I almost want to reach out to her parents and educate them. Don’t they know any better? Don’t they care? But where would I begin?Um, by the way, I’ve been stalking your lovely daughter on Facebook because I found a hidden photo of her in a frame on my bedroom dresser. I think she and my husband might be sleeping together.
Even as I say the words quietly in my mind, I still refuse to believe them. It makes no sense. I can’t believe Brian could ever do this. I need to know more. If I were to approach her parents now, Brian’s career might be over forever — the man teaches at a Catholic high school. And I know how he loves his job. Not to mention that we need his salary and work benefits.
No, I cannot act impulsively.
I check my watch. I’m meant to meet up with Abigail, Gretchen and Claudia for coffee this afternoon, just a quick one at Abby’s place, a floor above. I don’t want to go. I want to stay glued to my laptop and stalk Ava. My heart bleeds when I hear her perform a sad classical piece on piano. Her fingers dance so skillfully and effortlessly, and she wears a determined look of concentration on her face. The melody sends shivers down my spine. She’s talented, truly talented.
I knew this already. I knew it because I’ve seen the post of her holding a certificate, stamped with a gold foil. First place for Ava Hall. She’s not only a gifted pianist, she’s also a good student in spite of the fact that she struggles with a reading disorder. And she’s also an athlete (swimming). She has a few friends but she’s definitely not the most popular girl in school, not a cheerleader type. When she’s not busy, she loves to wind down with a book. Last week she readWuthering Heights, and loved it. So did I when I was a girl. The caption read:
Books always cheer me up when I’m down. Reading and loving this right now… and it’s not even for school!!! #bookworm #booknerd #wutheringheights #iheartHeathcliff
The caption was accompanied with a selfie of her, cuddled up with the book in a cozy armchair, and her cat Trixie. Fresh faced, and so innocent, with a small dash of something else, something sad.
The photo broke my heart. She’s a romantic. She’s completely naive, and could easily be swept up into something not quite right. I know how charming Brian can be, how beautiful he is. If he had failed as a teacher, a career in modeling might have been a real option. I know the girls in his classes all go crazy for him — I’ve seen their faces, heard the whispers and giggles. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. But never, until now, have I ever suspected that Brian might return their affections.
Her bedroom is white and pink, tastefully decorated with a Paris theme, a little messy for my liking. Small lighted Eiffel towers dangle from her window. Likewise, there are Christmas lights on her upholstered white leather tufted headboard. Are they sleeping together? And if so, where do they do it?
Ava still lives with her parents and younger sister. Her younger sister’s name is Madison. She’s a little blonde cutie with blue eyes. She looks like their mother, Renee. Renee is stunning, a real life Barbie with long dirty blonde hair, extremely well-dressed, with a Colgate commercial smile. Renee drives a white Audi, and apparently is not a cat person, despite the fact that she has Trixie.
And then there’s her father, Joel. I’m struck by his gentle gaze and sweet smile. His grin is shy, not quite giving itself to you. His eyes are big and brown, and make you want to know what they see. His hair is stylish, and dirty blond like his wife’s. In the photo I can’t pull my eyes from, they’re huddled together, his arm around her delicate shoulder. They’re at a restaurant, the girls are bookends, smiling widely.
What a beautiful family. A perfect family.
What would they all think if they knew what truly lay under the veneer, the perfect picture? If they knew Ava’s secret?
I glance at the clock on my laptop. I’m shocked to see that I’m running late for my get-together with the girls. I’m never late. This is so unlike me. I rush to gather my things and snap my laptop shut. I dash across the condo, scrambling to make myself look decent. I dab on a quick swipe of lipstick, and hastily slip on my shoes. I’m out the door in a flash.
