Frayed

by Layne Deemer

My jaw clenches in anticipation of what she’s about to tell me.

  “He thought my plans of being an elementary school music teacher were frivolous and, as he so lovingly put it, ‘a waste of my time.’ He wanted me to change my major to match his. He pushed me toward an economics degree with promises that we could work as a team in the field of financial advisement. He talked about all the traveling we could do with the money we would make. He was fixated on wealth and wanted me to share the same goals that he had. He thought of my music as a ‘hobby.’ He laughed when I told him how I had dreams of one day hearing one of my songs on the radio. He told me there was a one-in-a-million chance of that ever happening and that I should ‘get my head out of the clouds.’” She rolls her eyes, and if Gabe were here right now, I wouldn’t be held responsible for what I would do.

  “You would think that I would’ve seen his manipulation for what it was, and now, as I sit here relaying this story, I see it so clearly. But I didn’t back then. I blindly followed him wherever he led me. Until the day everything changed.”

  I hold my hand out to stop her. “Just a second, Lydia. You aren’t blaming yourself, are you? You were way too close to the situation to see through the bullshit. You have to know that.”

  She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I do know that, Owen, but I still feel like a pawn, and that’s a hard pill to swallow.”

  I nod. I know a little something about that myself. “It’s okay. You said everything changed one day. Tell me what happened to make you see Gabe for the manipulative bastard that he is.”

  She closes her eyes. “My best friend, Shannon, was out of town and asked me to come by her apartment to feed her cat while she was away. I stopped by on my way home from work and ended up walking in on her and Gabe in a compromising position on her sofa. As luck would have it, she returned home from her trip a day early but forgot to inform me. It seems she was in too much of a hurry to fuck my boyfriend.” The left corner of her mouth turns up slightly, and I find myself leaning in, my chin resting on my closed fist ready to swallow every word she tells me.

  “Walking in on them should’ve destroyed me; instead, my vision cleared and I saw Gabe for who he truly was. I didn’t scream at them. I didn’t even cry. I remember feeling nothing but clarity as I looked Shannon right in the eye and asked, ‘Do you still need me to feed Snickers or did you already do it?’ Stunned, she responded, ‘No, no, I, um, already fed him. Thanks.’ I smiled at her. Fucking smiled at the girl I loved like a sister while the man who was supposed to love me had his dick buried inside of her. And then I just waved and walked out the door. I felt free in that moment. There was pain underneath it all, sure, but mostly I just felt relief. I finally reached the point where staying and enduring the bullshit was no longer a requirement.”

  The grin on my face is so wide it’s making my eyes crinkle. I can’t help it. I’m so incredibly proud of her. Anyone else would’ve completely lost their shit walking into a situation like that. But not my Lydia. She’s far too self-aware. To say I’m impressed with how she handled herself would be a gross understatement. I’m in fucking awe of her.

  She returns my grin with an equally triumphant smile. “The life I had been living felt so foreign to me at that moment. I decided I needed some distance so I put my degree on hold, packed a bag, and decided to visit New York City. I had never been there before, and it felt like the right time for new discoveries. But I never made it there. I had a layover here in Minnesota, and when my connecting flight got canceled, I decided to explore the area. Walking along the busy sidewalks made me feel alive, and the feeling excited me. This was the perfect place to blend in and get reacquainted with myself.”

  I think back to when I first arrived here. I didn’t feel alive like Lydia did. I felt invisible. It’s amazing to me how we were both searching for something different and ended up finding exactly what we needed in the same place.

  Her gaze shifts to the floor and her expression turns dark. “Gabe had no idea where I’d gone, and as soon as I knew I was going to stay here, I ditched my cell phone and bought a new one. I had no intention of ever contacting him again and I foolishly believed he would move on. I was wrong.”

  43

  My mind is reeling from everything Lydia just told me. Gabe and Sarah sound like long lost twins separated at birth.

  “You said you were wrong in hoping Gabe would move on. What did he do?”

  The right corner of her mouth hitches up slightly as she shrugs. “It would take less time for me to tell you what he hasn’t done, but here’s the condensed version. A new phone number didn’t stop him. I have no idea how he figured it out, but if I had to guess I’d say he used his technologically savvy brain and tracked it down online. He called me and begged me to let him explain, said he was sorry—all the cliché things people say when they royally fucked up. But my leaving had nothing to do with him cheating on me and everything to do with me finally standing up for myself. I told him that under no circumstance is he to ever contact me again. When I hung up the phone, I felt sure that that would be the last time I heard from him. It was a classic case of fool me once. I can’t believe I expected him to just give up so quickly. After that, I started getting calls at night. Never at the same time, but always very late. He’d breathe a few times and then hang up, always calling from a different number.”

  “How did you know it was him if he never spoke and you didn’t recognize the number?”

  She looks me in the eyes, a thoughtful expression on her face. “There was really no one else it could’ve been. Well, that and the fact that he has one of those annoying digital watches that beeps on the hour. I heard it chirp in the background during one of the calls. The phone went dead immediately after it happened. He switched to texts after that. He kept those short and even though he never made any outright threats, they were still ominous and the warning was clear. He’d send messages like, ‘My arms were made to hold you and only you’ or ‘Our hearts won’t beat apart from each other.’ If I showed them to someone with no context, they might think I’m the luckiest girl in the world to have such a thoughtful poetic boyfriend.” She groans with revulsion at the thought. Her expression turns serious as she considers what she’s about to say. “The texts and phone calls were annoying and a little worrisome, but I could’ve lived with them. I was living with them. Everything changed the other day.” Her eyes fill with guilt and she casts them downward, out of my line of sight. “You know that ‘bill’ I got it the mail a few days ago?” She makes air quotes with her fingers as she says the word.

  “You mean the cell phone bill with extra data charges?” I raise my eyebrow. It’s no surprise that there’s more to that story.

  Her cheeks turn crimson and she nods. “That’s the one. I’m guessing by your tone that you knew that was a lie, and I’m sorry for that. Really, I am. I hate lies, but at the time, I felt like I had no other choice. I needed to handle things my own way and now that I’ve done that, I’m ready to explain. If you’ll let me?” She raises her eyes to meet mine and makes a silent plea for forgiveness.

  I press my lips together and tilt my head, encouraging her to continue. She wastes no time.

  “The envelope had my name and address scrawled on the front with no return address, but I couldn’t ignore the familiar handwriting. Gabe never wrote in lowercase letters. He always formed his words in boxy printed capital letters. It’s way too unique to be mistaken for anyone else’s. I was sitting there in the lobby trying to still my facial expression while internally terrified that he had found me. I didn’t even open the envelope until later that night after the carnival.” She gives me a pointed look.

  She went up to her apartment after the carnival because she had something to take care of. Piecing the puzzle together, I’m realizing now that Gabe’s letter was that something. I offer her a small smile of reassurance. I can see now how scared she must’ve been when she recognized the handwriting on that envelope, but instead, she put off her fe
ars to spend time with me.

  It’s clear that whatever was inside upset her. “What was in the envelope? Did Gabe write a letter begging you to take him back?”

  Her chin trembles and tears begin to form in the corners of her eyes as she recalls what was inside. “That’s the thing, Owen,” she says in a hushed voice. “There was no note, no letter, no card. Nothing written at all, actually. There were only photographs.”

  “Photographs?”

  “Uh huh. Three to be exact. Each one was a picture of the outside of my parents’ home while they were inside, completely unaware. The first was taken from across the street. It was taken at night, so the outside was dark. You could see a light on in the living room illuminating my mom and dad as they sat on the sofa watching television. The second was closer. It was taken from the front yard, and my parents’ facial expressions were clearly visible. The third…” Her throat bobs as she swallows the lump that’s beginning to form. “The third was taken from right outside the window. Owen, that son of a bitch pressed the lens of his camera up to the glass and took a picture of my parents as they relaxed inside the comfort of their own home. They had no idea he was even there.” She’s shaking her head as if to clear the images from her mind.

  Gabe is clearly unstable. My voice is laced with outrage when I speak. “You said you took care of everything, but Lydia, this is serious. Those pictures are a clear threat. You need to take them to the police. Your parents could be in danger.”

  Her head bobs up and down emphatically and her eyes widen in agreement. “I know, I know. Trust me. Once I realized that his sick infatuation with me had reached the level of threatening the people I care about, I knew I couldn’t ignore it any longer. That’s why I left, Owen. I flew home to see my parents and fill them in on everything that’s been going on with Gabe. We went straight to the police to file a restraining order. When I showed the officer the pictures, he arranged for twenty-four-hour security for my parents.”

  “Did you see or talk to Gabe while you were home? I’m sure he didn’t take the news of a restraining order very well.”

  “I’m sure he didn’t, but I didn’t wait around to see his reaction. My parents were my main concern. I know I left so abruptly, but I hope you can understand. I had to see them with my own two eyes. I needed to know that they were okay.”

  I take hold of her right hand and give it a squeeze. “Of course, I understand. And I’m glad you have a restraining order against him.”

  I only hope it’s enough.

  44

  Lydia’s chest rises and falls in a comfortable rhythm. Her breathing is even and her body is completely relaxed. Her revelation took so much out of her; she fell asleep about a half hour ago after pausing mid thought to lie back and regroup. I watch as her eyes dart back and forth beneath her eyelids. I wonder if he haunts her in her sleep the same way he seems to when she’s awake.

  Throughout her story, I felt something growing within me. It started out as a knot in my stomach—an unsettling irritation twisting around in my gut. Since overhearing her phone conversation a few weeks ago, I’ve known that Gabe wasn’t someone I liked, but now, after hearing what he’s done and seeing the effect it’s had on Lydia, I fucking hate him.

  Lydia’s sweater is draped across the arm of my futon. I can see the outline of her phone among the gray ribbing of the left pocket. I hesitate for only a moment before I reach over and pluck it out of the pouch. With her phone in my hand, I glance at her and watch with careful eyes as she sighs in her sleep. It’s almost as if she knows what I’m about to do and she approves.

  Lydia’s phone is protected by a passcode. I try a few combinations—her inspector number plus mine (1505), her birthday month and day (1022), I even spell out Gabe’s name in numbers (4223)—but nothing I enter seems to work. My eyebrows knit together as I exhaust all the possibilities I can think of. And then I have a thought. I press the home button and try one last four-digit number. 6936. Her phone unlocks and I’m staring at the screen in disbelief.

  Lydia’s passcode is OWEN. I feel a flutter in my chest and a warmth rising up my neck. I steal another glance at her as my face breaks out in a grin. Turns out I’m not insignificant after all. Now I know I’m doing the right thing.

  I waste no time opening up her recent call log. Using the camera on my phone, I snap some pictures of the screen. I think it’s time for Gabe and me to have a little chat. Hopefully, one of these numbers will lead me to him.

  With Lydia’s phone safely back where she left it, I lift myself off the cedar chest and stand over the sleeping figure of the woman who owns my heart and compels me to protect her with no regard for consequence. The lid of the chest groans in complaint as I lift it and peer inside at the mountain of spare blankets piled up. Selecting one from the top, I turn back to face her and open the blanket with a flick of my wrists. It sails above her and swiftly lowers to cover her resting body. I lean over and reach my hand out, allowing it to hover over her face for a moment before giving in to instinct and brushing away a few stray hairs off her forehead.

  My bedroom is still in complete disarray from my fit of hysteria earlier this evening. After I heard Lydia’s message, I lumbered back to my room and lifted the half-packed suitcase from my bed, placing it on the floor beside my dresser before cocooning myself under the covers. I can’t believe how hasty I was behaving only a few hours ago—packing up my life and preparing to run. Would I have had the guts to go through with it? The slumbering girl in the other room makes me think I would’ve at least hesitated. Unlike last time, I have a reason to stay, and, for the time being at least, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

  Hoisting the suitcase back onto my unmade bed, I rifle through the balled-up clothing thrown inside. I fold the shirts and stack them neatly on top of my quilt. Reaching in, I take hold of a pair of pants and hold them up when a voice at the door startles me.

  “Going somewhere?” Lydia asks with a hint of worry. I think about how this must look and immediately wish I had taken the time to clean up before she knocked on my apartment door.

  “No, I…I got another note. Two more, actually.”

  Her eyebrows rise up to her hairline.

  “The first was inside a sock at work, but the second was stuck inside a book that I just bought this afternoon. It fell out when I opened it in the living room earlier tonight. I guess you could say I freaked out when I found it.” I gesture with a sweeping motion of my arm at the disheveled appearance of the room.

  She looks stunned. “Wait, you found it here?” She points down at the floor for emphasis. I nod. She’s shaking her head in disbelief. “And it was in a book that you only bought this afternoon?” I give her another nod.

  “Wow, Owen. That’s…” She lets her voice drift off as she tries to find the words, and then her eyes snap to mine as a new thought takes hold. “Did you check the footage from the hallway camera?”

  In all of my panic over Sarah’s ghost haunting me, I completely forgot about the camera. “No, it never even occurred to me!” I reach for my laptop that’s perched on top of my dresser and take a seat on my bed, motioning with a tilt of my head for Lydia to sit next to me. She doesn’t hesitate, and within a few minutes, we’re pulling up the camera feed on the Cloud. We find today’s footage and fast forward to the evening. I watch myself on the screen as I reach the door to my apartment—the bag of books in my left hand and my key in my right.

  Once I enter the apartment, there’s no more activity for quite some time. There’s a short skip in the footage, but that’s happened a few times before. The wireless connection can be unreliable. We remain motionless as we continue to stare at the screen when the image suddenly lunges forward as though the camera were hit from behind, and then it tumbles to the ground. Brown tweed carpet fibers fill the screen as the camera lies face-down on the hallway floor. It remains like this for a few moments. Lydia and I don’t speak; we barely breathe. Our eyes remain fixed on the screen until, without warning
, it goes black.

  We sit completely still for a beat and then, with synchronized movements, we stand in silence and walk side by side out of the bedroom and down the hall. When we reach the door, I hold the knob and hesitate before turning it and peering out into the hallway. I glance first at the floor where the camera appeared to have fallen. It’s not there. As I tilt my head up to look at the spot where I installed the camera, I’m not at all surprised to find it missing. The empty bracket stares back at me—the only witness to what happened out here only a few hours ago.

  “She took the camera, didn’t she?” Lydia’s voice calls out from behind me.

  I’m about to agree with her when I freeze midturn. “Lydia?”

  “Hmm?” she responds casually.

  “You just said ‘she.’” I wait for her to explain, but all she says is, “Did I?” I thought maybe she said it by accident, but she doesn’t seem surprised at all.

  “Um, yeah, you said, ‘She took the camera.’ How do you know it’s a woman? Do you know who’s been writing the notes?” I clench my teeth to hold in the next question that threatens to come out. Is it you?

  She smiles at me. How can she smile at a time like this? “Oh, Owen, you saw the handwriting on those notes. I suppose it’s possible that a man wrote them, but it seems highly unlikely, don’t you think?”

  I’ve done nothing but think and that thought had definitely occurred to me. The loopy letters, the flips and swirls—it’s all very effeminate. And if I’m honest, I’ve only had two suspects in mind this whole time—one is standing right in front of me and the other is supposed to be dead.

  45

  The microwave in Lydia’s apartment beeps as the smell of buttered popcorn fills the air. She insisted that I stay with her in her apartment for the time being. “You’re already packed,” she said with a wry grin.