See Me Not

by Janelle Harris

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘You heard me. Giselle thinks I fucking assaulted you or something. She reported it to HR, for God’s sake.’

  ‘Oh, David.’

  ‘So what is it, Amber? It’s not enough for you that I could lose my wife, so you want me to lose my job now too?’

  ‘David, calm down, please? Where are you? There’s a lot of background noise. It’s hard to hear you. Are you driving?’

  ‘I’m …’ I cut myself off and drill my top teeth into my bottom lip.

  I don’t want to tell her where I am. I don’t know why, but my gut is telling me not to share anything more than absolutely necessary with her.

  ‘Amber, will you just answer my question? What did you tell Giselle?’

  ‘Nothing, David. Honest. We’re not that close. I barely know her.’

  ‘Really?’ I snort. ‘Well, that’s not what Giselle thinks. She seems to think you’re goddamn best buddies. And that I’m some sort of perverted predator.’

  ‘Where are you?’ Amber asks again. ‘I’ll come meet you. We can talk.’

  ‘No,’ I snarl. ‘We can talk now.’

  ‘I think anything that needs to be said would be better done in person.’

  ‘Amber, I said no. Christ, that’s the last thing Emma needs. You and I meeting up for a cosy chat.’

  ‘Of course. Sorry. We have to think of Emma.’

  Amber’s words are kind, but she can’t seem to hide the malice lacing her tone. It shakes me. And the way she says Emma’s name is unsettling. I will the train to go faster. I want to be at home desperately. I hope Emma is there when I get in.

  ‘I have to think of Emma,’ I correct.

  ‘How is she?’ Amber asks.

  I shake my head. How the hell do you think she is? I sidestep Amber’s uncomfortable prying.

  ‘Amber, I need you to explain to HR that the accusations Giselle made are false, okay?’

  ‘Yes. Absolutely. If I can help at all, I will.’

  Amber’s tone is freaking me out because I can hear the undercurrent of sarcasm. And I suspect more than ever that she’s the driving force behind Giselle’s misconceptions.

  ‘David. You know I would never tell anyone about what happened between us, right? Especially not Giselle. She has the biggest mouth in the office.’

  ‘Well, you must have told someone, Amber. I’ve seen the posts on your Facebook page. Someone really doesn’t like you,’ I say, smirking as I gain the upper ground.

  ‘It’s just a stupid internet troll, David. Hardly someone I know or talk to.’

  My eyes narrow. Maybe this troll has Amber more freaked out than she’s letting on. Maybe that’s why she sounds so strange.

  ‘It can’t be a stranger, Amber. Someone clearly knows what we did. Whoever you told has a big mouth.’

  ‘As I said, David, I didn’t tell anyone. We made a mistake. It’s not something I’m proud of and want to talk about. Maybe the problem is whoever you told.’

  ‘It’s not Emma, Amber. If that’s what you’re implying.’ I’m incensed that Amber is trying to suggest Emma is behind those crazy messages.

  ‘I never said it was, David. You came up with that all on your own.’

  ‘Oh, Amber. Stop with the mind games. Emma is being trolled too. So obviously, it’s the same person. If someone out there has a grudge against you, I wished they’d leave my wife out of it.’

  Amber clears her throat, like what I said has really shocked her, and I genuinely believe she didn’t know.

  ‘Oh shit, really? Okay, this is getting scary now.’ Amber’s voice quivers. ‘Who is this person?’

  I pause, processing. The rumble of the train seems to grow louder, like a tiny hammer tapping against my brain, but it helps me think rationally. Something about the way Amber is acting doesn’t sit right with me. Amber oozes confidence. Some of the lads at work say that it’s the most attractive thing about her. Others are less full of shit and admit her long blond hair and gigantic tits turn them on. Ironically, I don’t fine either eye-catching. Amber is too superior and cocky for my taste. However, it’s not difficult to gauge that a stalker on the internet would genuinely shake even someone with Amber’s self-assurance.

  ‘David, say something. Please. Do you think this troll thing is serious? Tell me,’ Amber shouts. ‘I’m home on my own. I’m scared.’

  ‘Look,’ I stumble. ‘I bought Emma a new SIM for her phone, and she’s avoiding the internet for a while. Maybe you should do the same until all this blows over. I’m sure it’s just an asshole with too much time on their hands, but still, there’s no harm in being careful.’

  ‘Emma has a new number?’ Amber is oddly surprised by the idea.

  ‘Yes. And maybe you should do the same.’

  ‘Okay, okay. Good idea.’

  ‘I’m taking the rest of the day off,’ I say, telling not asking. ‘I need to take care of Emma.’

  ‘Yeah. I understand. Thanks for letting me know about the new phone number idea. I’m going to make sure to get myself one too. Do tell Emma I was asking for her, won’t you.’

  What? I guess that’s a figure of speech, but even still, it’s a weird thing for Amber to say. Obviously, I’m not going to tell Emma that Amber and I spoke at all.

  ‘And don’t worry about HR, David. I’ll speak to them. And Giselle. I’ll explain everything. You just concentrate on your family. Emma. Family really is the most important thing, isn’t it?’

  ‘Eh, yes. It is. Goodbye, Amber.’

  I end the call and look out the window. Family is important. Emma is important. What a strange thing for Amber to say. But our whole conversation was odd; it’s probably just how things are going to be now. Every conversation tinged with regret. I try not to dwell on thoughts of Amber because I’m only two stops from home. It’s just enough time to make another call while everything is fresh in my head.

  ‘Hey,’ Kim’s chirpy voice answers after just a couple of rings.

  ‘Hi, Kim, it’s David. I was hoping I could ask you a favour.’

  ‘What is it?’ Kim squawks, instantly on edge. ‘Is Emma okay?’

  The corners of my lips twitch, slowly making their way into a subtle smile. Kim worries about Emma just as much as I do. And even though Kim drives me mad, I’m glad Emma has her as a friend.

  ‘She’s fine, Kim. Don’t worry.’

  ‘Okay, good.’ Kim sighs.

  ‘You free to talk?’ I ask.

  ‘Yeah. I’m at work, but it’s okay.’

  ‘Umm …’ I close my eyes, embarrassed that I’m calling Kim twice in as many days and asking for her help. And even more ashamed that I behaved pretty crappy last night when she and Andy were at our house. I won’t be surprised if she tells me where to go with her next breath.

  ‘David, what is it? I’m working; I can’t stay on the phone long.’

  ‘Oh, yeah, sorry, it’s just … look, Andy is a cop, right?’

  ‘Yes. He told you that last night.’ Kim grunts, and I know for sure she’s still upset about my attitude last night.

  ‘I know, yeah. It’s just, I was wondering if he could do me, eh, us a favour.’

  ‘Andy and I are only going out a few days. It’s all pretty new. I can’t be asking him to quash speeding tickets or anything like that. I mean I haven’t even seen him in uniform yet.’

  ‘Really? I thought you’d be into that kind of thing,’ I joke, desperate to lighten the atmosphere.

  ‘Okay, David, seriously. What do you want?’ Kim half scolds, half laughs.

  ‘This troll crap with Emma …’

  ‘Yeah, what about it?’

  ‘Well, it turns out Amber is getting trolled too.’

  ‘Oh, you are kidding me,’ Kim screeches. ‘All this is because you’re worried about your girlfriend. Jesus bloody Christ, David, your wife is a mess, and you’re phoning me about Amber’s problems. Not cool, man. So not fucking cool.’

  ‘Kim, calm down. This is about Emma. Trust
me. Emma is my priority.’

  ‘But it’s Amber’s troll you’re worried about.’

  ‘No, that’s not it. Well, actually, that is it. Sort of. Just listen. I think it’s the same troll. The same person. But it’s more than just online. It’s someone following them. Amber, Emma - linking them together. I don’t want to say anything to Emma and freak her out even more, but someone knows everything. Someone is watching them. Watching us.’

  ‘Okay, crap. That’s scary. I don’t actually know what to say.’

  ‘Say you’ll ask Andy about it? Get him to trace the messages. He can do that, can’t he?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Kim gulps. ‘He’s not a detective or anything, and he’s definitely not techie minded, so figuring out computer stuff wouldn’t be his thing.’

  ‘Okay, but can you at least ask him? Maybe one of his colleagues can help. Please, Kim?’

  ‘David, if this is all as serious as it sounds, don’t you think you should just file an official statement with the police yourself?’

  ‘No. Jesus. No. That would scare the crap right out of Emma. No. I don’t want her to know this is something to worry about because she doesn’t need this stress. Please don’t tell her.’

  ‘Yeah. Okay. I getcha.’ Kim sighs. ‘I’ll talk to Andy. I’m meeting him for dinner tonight. I’ll mention it him then.’

  ‘Thanks, Kim. I owe you one.’

  ‘David, I’m doing this for Emma. I’m still super pissed off with you, you know.’

  ‘I know. But still, thanks.’

  ‘I’ll let you know what Andy says.’

  ‘Okay, great. Talk to you soon.’

  ‘Bye, David.’

  ‘Bye, Kim.’

  I hang up and tilt my head until my ear is as comfortably close to my shoulder as possible. I do the same on the other side and exhale deeply at the sound of the pop as the tension in my neck and across my upper back eases. My stop is coming up next. I slide my phone into my inside jacket pocket, and I make my way towards the doors. The train slows and jolts as it approaches the station and throws me off balance. I lunge forward and grab the top of the seat nearest to me to steady myself. Straightening back up again, I notice someone sitting next to the window at the extreme back of the carriage. Something about them piques my interest. Maybe it’s the silence between us or the poignant air that seems to seep from them and slowly waft towards me. The fine hairs on the back of my neck prickle, sending an eerie shiver down my spine. I didn’t notice them get on at any stage, and I’m certain they weren’t there before me. I blush, realising I was speaking quite loudly on the phone moments ago. The train steadies as it pulls painfully slowly into the station. I stretch my neck and roll onto my tiptoes. Whoever is down there seems oblivious to me as they sit slouched next to the window. I can just about make out a hood pulled over their head, and I assume it’s a teenager. They probably have headphones stuck on their ears and music blaring. I relax as I doubt they heard a word I said on the phone. The doors open, and I step onto the platform. As the train pulls away, I can’t shake the feeling of eyes on my back. I spin around and stare back at the carriage where I was sitting. The hood is turned facing the window now. Facing me. I can only make out a chin because the hood flops so far over the face, but I know they can see out underneath. They can see me. The train picks up speed as it pulls away from the station, and it’s only when it trundles around the bend in the tracks and out of view that I realise I’ve been holding my breath. Christ, Emma and Amber’s paranoia is rubbing off on me. I roll my eyes and snort at my own foolishness.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Four weeks later

  EMMA

  David leaves for the office at ridiculous o’clock every morning, but today, he’s pottering around our bedroom and getting ready for work even earlier than usual.

  ‘Go back asleep, Ems. It’s early,’ David says, noticing I have one eye partially open.

  ‘What time is it?’ I groan.

  It’s dark outside. The temperamental street lamp at the end of our cul-de-sac endeavours to shed light through our heavy bedroom curtains.

  ‘It’s just before six. I’ve some stuff I need to sort before work. Go back to sleep.’

  I roll over and flop onto my belly. My back is stiff and aching from sleeping on the extreme edge of the bed all night. It’s a position I seem to have subconsciously adopted in recent weeks. Sometimes, I wake up with pins and needles where my arm has flopped over the edge and dangled unsupported all night.

  ‘I won’t be late home tonight,’ David promises. ‘Let’s get a takeaway and a bottle of wine, yeah?’

  David leans over me, gathers my hair to one side, and kisses the part of my neck he exposes. ‘See you later, baby.’

  ‘Okay, bye.’ I drool, closing my eyes.

  An hour and a half later, when my own alarm goes off, I’m wide-awake. I couldn’t go back to sleep after David left despite being exhausted. I know if we’re ever going to get our relationship back on track, I have to stop suspecting he’s up to something anytime he deviates even slightly from our daily routine. But I’m struggling. I can just about tolerate his kisses, but at the same time, I’m desperate to feel him beside me, to know I haven’t lost him. It’s the weirdest mix of emotions, and constantly trying to figure out my feelings is leaving me drained.

  Downstairs, I flick on the kettle and rummage around in the kitchen, looking for the instant coffee. I finally find it hidden behind the milk in the fridge. David put it there this morning, and I guess our relationship problems are leaving him just as exhausted as I am. I hear him toss and turn at night while I pretend to be asleep.

  Finally, with a cup of hot coffee in my hand, I sit at the kitchen table and read over the letter I received in the post three days ago. It arrived in a long, cream envelope. The kind made of thick, expensive paper. Stuck evenly in the centre is my name and address printed on a rectangular ivory sticker. At first, I suspected it was a wedding invitation, but none of our friends are engaged. I balked uncomfortably when I first opened it and discovered a solicitor’s office in the city centre had sent it. Mullins and Company. I’d never heard of them, but I’m familiar with their address close to Stephen’s Green. They’re just around the corner from David’s office. The bottle green lettering of their name styled into a logo at the top right of the letter is assertive and almost aggressive, and of course, my first thoughts were that I’d done something wrong. Why else would a solicitor be in touch with me?

  Bradly Mullins & Co.

  23 North Edgeworth Street

  Heaton Road

  Dublin 2

  Ms Emma Lyons,

  14 Earl Lawn Manor

  West Town

  County Dublin

  Re: Last Will and Testament of Mr D. Connelly

  Dear Ms Lyons,

  My name is Bradly Mullins. I am a solicitor here at Mullins and Company.

  Firstly, please allow me to offer my sincere condolences on the passing of your close friend Mr Daniel Connelly.

  I had the pleasure of becoming acquainted with Mr Connelly two years ago when he approached me to draw his will. And that, Ms Lyons, is the reason for my unsolicited letter to you today. Mr Connelly named you as a beneficiary. However, Mr Connelly also advised me that you would not be aware of this and requested that in the event of his passing, I reach out to you personally.

  Perhaps, you would be kind enough to contact my secretary on 01 67584734 to arrange an appointment at your earliest convenience.

  I look forward to meeting you, and once again, my very sincere condolences on your loss.

  Kind regards,

  B. Mullins

  Bradly Mullins

  I read and re-read the letter until the letters blur and no longer form words. I’ve read it so often over the last three days I know the wording by heart now. I’d phoned Bradly Mullins’s secretary the same afternoon I received the letter, and she gave me an appointment for this morning at eleven a.m. I’ve taken the day off
school, and I haven’t told anyone why, least of all David. He’d probably suggest coming with me, and I don’t want that. I’m shocked Danny named me in his will; I’m even more surprised Danny has a will at all. He wore the same pants with a hole in the back pocket for nearly two weeks straight until I bought him a new pair. I doubt he has much to leave behind. Perhaps, it’s something small and personal. Something that meant a lot to him, and he wants me to have it. I really hope so.

  I have no idea how the legal side of leaving something to someone works. I want to Google it before I go to the solicitor’s office, so I don’t sound like a complete idiot when Bradly Mullins starts spraying legal jargon at me, but I can’t use the internet on my phone. My new number isn’t in a contract, so it would gobble a huge chunk of my prepaid amount to log on even for a minute or two. My laptop is at school, but I run upstairs and check if David has left his at home today. I’m delighted to find it in the usual spot under David’s side of the bed. I sit cross-legged on the floor, open the laptop, and place it in my lap. David set up both our laptops, and for convenience, he used the same password, so when I type in the familiar combination of letters and numbers, I assume I’ve made a mistake when the desktop doesn’t come to life.

  I try again. Typing slower this time. Access still denied. What the hell? When my third attempt fails, I realise David has changed his password. It stings. I don’t know when he changed it, but I’d be willing to bet it’s since he slept with Amber. My chest tightens, as if someone has punched a fist through my ribs and has a powerful grip on my heart. I push thoughts of my meeting with Bradly Mullins aside and wonder what the hell is on David’s laptop that he doesn’t want me to see.

  I punch in numerous words that I think David might use. I try birthdays and anniversaries. I’m close to tears of frustration when nothing is successful. Finally, I try combinations of words. His favourite food followed by the name of his favourite football team, and I laugh out loud when the ridiculously simple combination works.