At the beginning of my shift, Eamon was wasted. Has it been long enough for him to sober up? If my stalker is Eamon, then he should know the answer.
Cindel: How well did you know my brother?
While I wait for a response, I start counting how many seeds I cracked.Cracking up at work.I bit my bottom lip.
“Not funny.” I declare to no one. Minutes go by. No response. One hundred and thirty-one shelled pistachios.
I put down my phone and paced the room. Pick up the device, still no response. This is maddening! Fine. I turn offthe television, clean up and restore my uneaten ‘brinner’ on the living room table, then brush my teeth. After checking again for a response fromThe Stalker, I abandon any chance of “piece of mind” for today and crawl into bed.
“Watch me sleep for all I care!” I say within my darkened room. My body is tired, while my mind is restless. I try to readjust, elevate my head, put a pillow between my knees, but all I seem to do is toss and turn. Sleep doesn’t welcome me. I even try playing games with myself, pretending the roaring in my ears is a swarm of crickets on a summer evening. The sound morphs into a school bell that rings incessantly. Counting sheep is pointless.
Sometime between three and four in the morning, the sandman finally accepts me. I dream of Theo. Not flashbacks but memories that ‘could have been.’ It was one of those realistic dreams. The ones that make you question whether or not this actually happened. Twinkling lights illuminate our Christmas tree, while the carnage of wrapping paper and presents lay strewn throughout the room. Laughing echoes in the distance, and I move toward it. Like a movie playing for me, I observe as our family gathers around a table filled with delicious holiday fare. Everyone is so happy. Laughing and talking. Just watching them was enough to warm my heart. Theo left the room briefly, only to return with a silver platter, which he lays in the center of the dining table. Everyone looks at one another smiling, excited for the feast ahead. I wish I could stay within this moment for the rest of my days. Theo lifts the tray’s lid to unveil the main dish. It wasn’t ham or turkey, but a skull. Everyone gasped at first, but then they started to chuckle. Upon closer inspection I could tell the skull was not real. Its surface decorated with tiny chips of paint and black outlines. Unaware that something was within, I jumped back when a tarantula came out of its eye! Everyone roared louder… Mom… Dad… but not Theo. That’swhen I notice he’s changed. His eyes now black. Hollowed voids where his blue eyes should have been.
I startle awake from the vibration of the alarm on my phone. My body is overheated. Sticking to the sheets from the strange delusion. The whole room feels warm. Shit. The heat was on all night. I pull myself from my sweat covered bed and immediately head for a shower.
Once dressed, I head to the kitchen.
Andrea is sitting at the table staring at a bottle of wine adorned with a ribbon around its neck.
“Little early for a drink,” I state dryly, walking toward the sink for a glass of water.
She stands and thrusts the bottle into my arms. “It’s for you actually. From your darling Eamon.”
I examine the tag on the bottle of expensive French wine.
I’m sorry. Please allow me to make it up to you by making dinner. -E.
The door closes to Andrea’s room before I’m able to utter a word. Well, this sure adds fuel to the already blazing fire.
It’s a sweet gesture but I’ve told him before… I don’t drink. I’m inclined to look past Eamon’s drunk transgressions and poor selection of apology gift, if only to spend more time with him. Even if the driving factor was to learn more about my brother, I still enjoy my time with Eamon.
Looking from the wine to the big calendar in our apartment, I’m reminded that today is the best day of the year. Halloween! I consider for a brief moment, striding over to Andrea’s door and knocking, but I didn’t want to start off my favorite holiday with an argument.
In fact, I didn’t feel like hanging around here for a moment longer than necessary. I grab my costume for this evening, a coat, something essential from the freezer; shove everything in my bag and head out.
It was the perfect day to feed the ducks in the park. In the middle of the Public Garden is a large pond. Most of the benches are full, but I am fortunate to find a seat in the sun on the east side of the lake. Soon, this body of water will be mostly frozen, causing birds and other feathered friends to fly south for the winter. Oh, how I hated the cold. The holiday season always coincides with brutal, cutting temperatures. I sometimes wish I could leave like the wealthy do. Go down to Florida and soak up the sun, only returning to this place once its frozen conditions have melted away.
Ducks make infinite circles, quaking merrily in the water, while some dunk their heads, kicking their legs to the sky. I cherish this time. It’s even more enjoyable if you bring a bag of frozen peas with you. That’s their favorite! Many park-goers have the common misconception that you should bring bread for the ducks. When in actuality it lacks nutritional value; unnecessarily filling their belly to the point that they forgo searching forrealfood. A quick internet search is all it takes. Then everyone would have the proper “quack snack!”
I was in stitches when I learned that Andrea is petrified of anything with wings. For being someone who is incredibly resilient, I was shocked when I witnessed her take cover over a pigeon who flew too close to our campus.
Brodi wasn’t a fan of feeding the ducks either. He complained it was lame, in turn spending his time scrolling on his phone while I distributed peas alone. So, this has become a solo activity.
I started coming here after I lost my brother. It was cathartic. I needed it. Time away from condolences and people who expected me to “talk through it.” Better than therapy. It was here, among the ducks, that I also decided to swear off drugs and alcohol. Even though I couldn’t fathom that Theo would ever want to take his own life, I still made the promise. More for himthan myself. “Use this as a lesson and keep going.” The words ingrained in me since I was little.Now, whenever I’m feeling overwhelmed or depressed, I make my way to the park… frozen veg in tow.
Over the years, I started recognizing some ducks. Even naming a few. The one with the janky wing and black feathered tail is Filber. The two white ducks that sound like they're laughing are Betty and Wilma, and last but not least is the loudest duck. It has extra plumage around its head and is always squawking incessantly for more peas. Never fully satisfied with anything it's given. That one was dubbed, Brodi. Sometimes I ask myself if there was anything I could have done differently. He was the one that came onto me after all… but as time progressed, he just didn’t seem to want to be with me as much. Always had something better to do. Like putting in extra hours at Rick’s or meeting buddies for a drink after work. When he started another job, I barely ever saw him! Stupid boxing scene turned him into a different person. I wonder if Brodi ever went to The Bay Boxing Club that Eamon runs? It’s not like his club is the only boxing place in town. The possible parallel is laughable.
My mind just keeps folding in on itself, like an endless origami that never transforms into a swan or frog. Thinking about a solitary issue is impossible. Every painful thought eventually doubles. Soon, I’m so ensnared in a weave of thoughts; I can’t seem to navigate myself back to the beginning.
Once the bag of peas is empty and the rolling trills of ducks become distant, I head into work early. Tonight is the bar’s bash. I’m sure there’s something I can do to prepare. There was a time not too long ago that the idea of isolation seemed scary. Now flying solo seems like a luxury I will never reach. Between Eamon and my stalker, who may be one in the same, I’ve had little time to experience detachment. I’m not trying to be bleak;in fact, I feel wanted. Confused, yes, but I know he’s watching, and I don’t think I’m ready for it to stop.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
IN THE SHADOWS
Tonight, the bar is having its annual Halloween Bash. At first, I was worried I wouldn’t even make it, since everyone was still held up in a meeting about the “Lombardi problem.” Though I don’t care much for parties, I do appreciate being able to conceal my identity from a certain someone at the bar. At least for a little longer. Cindel is still unsure of exactly who I am, which makes this evening all the more fun.
