After we’ve both hydrated and regained a normal heart rate, she pulls out the whiteboard and uncaps a pink marker. “Who is Mairead?!” It’s not a polite question; it’s an accusatory one, filled with hurt and mistrust.
Shit. I rub my fingers along the cord edging of the last couch pillow in the apartment. Taking a large breath prior to letting it all out in one go. “She’s Eamon’s sister.”
The marker in her hand falls to the ground. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! I told you Eamon was dangerous… why would his sister be any different?! For fuck’s sake, Cindel!”
She paces the room, while running both hands through her shiny silver strands. She looks spent.
This is all my fault. I put my roommate, my best friend, in harm's way, all because I wanted information that couldpotentiallyhelp me figure out what happened to my brother. I’m such an idiot. I can’t operate on hunches. What if Eamon was lying about knowing my brother, and it was all a facade, just to get close to me?
Eventually, Andrea scribbles Mairead’s name on the white board, just beneath Eamon’s, with the words “Crazy Red-headed sister,” below.
I can’t help but pick at the edges of my nails while Andrea stands back, surveying the board. I almost rather her yell than be unnervingly quiet.
“Could that stalker of yours be the one responsible for Mary’s death?”
Abandoning my tender nail bed, I stare up into my roommate’s frustrated face. “No.” This I was sure of, with every bone in my body. “He’s trying to help. He’s the one that told me to search for something Theo left behind.” I sigh as I glance down to the floor. Wait. I look back to my roommate. “How did you know Eamon and Mairead’s mother was named Mary?”
She tilts her head then shakes her hair out of her face, “You told me. Remember?”
Did I? You know… so much has happened as of late, I probably did tell her and just forgot. I squeeze my eyes shut and exhale. “I’m sorry, Andrea. This is my fault. You’ll be happy to hear; I’ve applied to other places. You’re right, I shouldn’t work there.” Saying it out loud feels more matter of fact, than just applying to a couple job postings.
“We should leave town for a bit. Mairead is clearly unhinged. I need you safe.” She has a good point. A lot of what Mairead said earlier is certifiably, but can I really go back to living with my parents? They have themselves to worry about. They don’t even technically have a home to welcome me to. They’re house sitters.
I also don’t want to leave the city. My thoughts spiral, soon I find myself thinking about my stalker. Would I be leaving him too? He’s followed me wherever I’ve gone thus far, but why haven't I heard from him in days? My head throbs. It feels as though icy spoons are pressing against the backs of my eyeballs.
“I’m tired,” I declare.
“Well, I’m too worked up to fall asleep. So… I’m going to stare at this board until something makes sense,” she asserts, tapping the marker into her other hand. “Are you sure that’s all the songsyour stalker played for you?” Of course she would be focusing on the mystery man. Why do I continue to trust him? Trust everyone?
I am already disappointed in myself, the least I can do is ease her mind. “Let me write down everything thus far and we’ll cross reference what we have.”
She agrees, but I can tell she’s not pleased with me. I grab a few slices from a loaf on the counter in advance of heading to my bedroom.
As I chew on the final slice of bread, I commence jotting down each artist and song that I recall being played through the found earbud. I’m up to fifteen songs but I'm not sure if one of the songs count. One I’d never heard prior to my drive to the Catskills. The words are memorably haunting. After a quick search, I find theLil’ red riding hoodsong. It’s from a group calledSam the Sham & the Pharaohs, released in 1966. The strange song plays… which I most definitely DID NOT add to my driving mix. Despite my exhausted state, I relisten to each and every song my stalker has played for me up until now. From the first song by thePixies, to the most recent tune byElastica. I lose track of time.
Even with bready carbs absorbing the residual tequila, my stomach still suffers. Brain and body at war with one another. My mind screams, “go to sleep,” but my entire being burns for the masked man. He makes me question myself, rethink everything; but I know one thing for sure… he doesn’t plan to hurt me.
As my eyes begin to grow heavy, I lay on my pillow; however, a piercing light keeps me from sleeping. The earbud glows like a beacon, beside me on the nightstand.
My hearing aids are already out for bed, so I easily nestle the little bud into my ear. There and then, music streams into the once peaceful space.
“Possum Kingdom”by theToadiesplays, sending me right back to those confusing, teenage years.
Not so long ago, I had trouble making decisions, even for the simplest things. My taste in boys relied heavily on how wide the hem of their pant leg spanned. They were selfish. Telling me just about anything I wanted to hear to get what they wanted. Funnily enough, I didn’t even know whatIwanted, mostly because I was young… scared.
Today, although not quite as ‘inexperienced,’ I’m still apprehensive but I recognize what I need. I’m a woman willingly being lured into a dark space. This time, it’s more about what I crave rather than what he has to offer.
I covet what this lyrical message has to offer. What if he’s watching me right now?
My hand finds its way beneath the sheets and under my panties, as the song repeats for the second time.
The phone vibrates next to me, just as I dip a finger inside myself. Using my free hand to read the notification. It’s fromTheStalker.I click message.
The Stalker: Stop touching yourself, Cindel, and go to bed.
My eyes widened as I reread the message. I knew he had cameras in my room!
Dots appear, then another message comes through.
