These plans I’m making… this game I’m playing, is nothing compared to the lengths I would go to for her. I do hope she likes her big gift. Perhaps, she’ll have less to concern herself with when she learns what I’ve done for her.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
CINDEL
My last full day in this place is filled with cable TV reruns and binging on possibly compromised candy. I’m sorry, but after eating canned soup for two days, I wasn’t about to pass up on the offering.
Kingston was also living thehigh life. Spoiled with yet another tasty marrow bone. He carries them wherever he goes, likely concerned they’ll disappear just as quickly as they appeared. We share a look. Something between guilt or perhaps gluttony.
I texted Andrea once or twice during my stay, but she wasn’t very chatty, which I expected. My foot no longer has a heartbeat, which makes me feel way better about driving home tomorrow. Creepy stalker even gifted me a carved walking stick. It was resting against the stoop of the guest suite. With a crick in my neck from spending the night on a stiff sofa and there being little success in keeping anyone out, I decided to sleep in the guesthouse. Of course, I let Kingston join me. He was elated that I let him up in bed with me, although he's not much of a guard dog. His love has easily been bought with food, twice now.
Wait… If I’m eating the candy, does that mean I’m no better than a food-motivated pet?
My parents will be here in the morning to relieve me from dog duty, so tonight I packed and returned everything to the way I found it. I also sent Eamon a message.
Cindel: Hey… I’d like to talk when I get back in town tomorrow. Are you at work?
No response all day. He hasn’t even texted back about Cassie. Against my better judgment, I have kept the earbud. Ever since it appeared on the bed after my bath, I’ve been wondering how to handle it. I was vulnerable but whoever placed it there still left me alone. No different than a grandma who insists on serving you another slice of pie once you're full. If you try to say no, she’s just going to insist you’re too skinny. So, you might as well admit defeat, shut up, and eat the pie. When I comply, whomever it is, seems to stay away. Aside from the occasional song, that seems to poke fun at whatever situation I find myself in. Like, literally being caught in ‘Vaseline’ or ‘Closing Time’ during the end of my shift at the bar. Clearly, he thinks he’s funny. Could it be a he? Would it make a difference if it isn’t?
Regardless, I am ready to go home! Through being alone in the mountainous woods, eating soup, and accepting candy from strangers. Just after sunset, I sleepily make my way to the guest house with Kingston at my heels and lock us in for the night. I strip down to a T-shirt and began brushing my teeth, when the earbud comes to life.
The Human League – “Don’t you want me”begins playing and the words paralyze me. The lyrics,Don’t you want me baby, repeat over and over in a song talking about a girl who works at a bar, and her refusal of said relationship. This creepdoesn’t just want to play games from a distance; it feels like they really want to pursue me.
“No!!! No, I don’t want you!” Toothpaste splatters across the mirror as I shout at no one but my own reflection. As the song plays through, I abandon brushing and go to my bag... collect the remainder of the candy from the song stalker and throw it into the trash can. I won’t be conditioned into obedience.
I finish brushing, wash my face, recheck the lock, and climb into the bed. Kingston curls up at my feet with his bones.
“Traitor,” I proclaim. This stalker knows me. Could it be someone close to me? Would Eamon be capable of all of this? I work tomorrow night. If he’s there… he has some explaining to do.
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
CINDEL
My parents come back bearing gifts. They picked out a basket chock full of locally made soaps, Martha’s Vineyard signature salad dressing, and chocolates from the island’s premier chocolatier. I know my dad was the one who picked the sweets, because it was something I actually liked. Andrea might actually enjoy the rest; maybe it can be a sort of olive branch in lieu of our last interaction.
Kingston performs zoomies all over the house when they first arrive. Mom is anxious the couch will be ripped from the dog’s repetitive jumping. Dad actually interacted with me.
“Don’t be a stranger,” he says.
While Mom insists, I look for jobs in the area. “Not only will you be closer, but you could meet a nice boy and settle down.”
Gee, Mom, why don’t you just offer me up to someone’s rich son in the area, so I don’t wind up as a spinster?
“Are you still working at the market, Cinnabun?” My dad stands with me just outside the house, after helping me carry my belongings to the rental car.
“I’m just at the bar now, actually.”
He nods understandingly. “You’re too good for those places, kiddo.”
Sometimes I wish they were just proud of me for where I am… not where I ‘could’ be. “I got a promotion.”
My dad lights up. “Wow, that’s awesome! Does it make you happy?”
I think for a moment. There’s something about the bar that I do love. I nod earnestly. “Yes. Yes, I do think it makes me happy. It’s just a bit of an adjustment period. Some of my coworkers are a little salty toward me right now.”
