Looking Over Your Shoulder

by P.D. Workman

CHAPTER 8

  ABE’S PHONE RANG, AND he picked it up and glanced at the caller ID. Blocked call. But some of his clients had blocked numbers, so he pressed “call” and answered it.

  “Hello?”

  Abe could hear murmured background voices, and the phone rubbing against fabric. Somebody had pocket dialed him. Abe listened for a moment to see if he could tell who it was.

  “He needs to be taken care of,” said one muffled voice. “Every time I turn around, he’s in the way, asking questions, making connections. He’s dangerous.”

  “The cops think he’s a suspect,” another voice said. “He doesn’t know enough to finger anyone.”

  “He knows too much. I want him taken care of.”

  “Well you’re not in charge, are you? I’ll talk to Mary Margaret, and see what she thinks.”

  “Fine. Talk to Mary Margaret.”

  “Let me know if-”

  The line went dead. Abe sat there looking at the phone. He looked at the recent call logs to verify that it had been a blocked call.

  They were after him. He didn’t know who Mary Margaret was, or what she had to do with it. Mary Margaret sounded like a nun’s name. What would a nun have to do with a jewel heist? And how did they know that he knew anything? Abe hadn’t told anyone about the half-eaten meal on the plane, and he hadn’t kept it. He had hidden the papers and other evidence where nobody could find them. How would anyone know that he had them?

  Abe pocketed his phone and looked around carefully to see if anyone was watching him. The dog walker in the park? The mailman on the corner? He pulled slowly away from the curb, looking for anyone who might be watching him. As he backed out, a black car down the block also pulled out and fell in behind him. They were following him. Abe stepped on the gas, and the car dropped back. Abe took a quick turn, and watched the road behind him for the black car. He thought at first that he had lost it. Maybe they weren’t following him after all. But just as he was about to make his next turn, the black car turned in behind him. He make a quick right and then left, and hit the gas. He pulled in front of a truck parked on the street, and waited.

  The minutes ticked away. They’re coming, a voice whispered in Abe’s head. He waited, eyes alert, watching for the black car. He saw them approach in the rear view mirror. Duck down, the voice ordered. Abe slid below the level of the window and waited until after he had heard them drive past. He peeked up just a little and watched them drive further down the street. As soon as they were gone, he sat up, reversed, and turned the car around, going back the way that he had come. They were watching him. They thought that he knew too much about the jewel heist, and they wanted to get rid of him. And somehow this Mary Margaret would decide his fate.

  Ursula glanced around the kitchen when she got home. It was tidy, everything cleaned up and wiped down. Ursula had gotten so used to Abe immersing himself in his cooking the last few weeks, that it was a surprise to see it empty and unoccupied at this time of day. She went upstairs to say hello to everyone, and found the younger children in bed waiting for her.

  “How was your day?” she asked Crispin.

  “Good,” he said with a yawn. “Mrs. - Mrs. Wilson is going to bring Mr. Tibbles back next week. Mr. Tibbles had four babies.”

  “So Mr. Tibbles must be Mrs. Tibbles,” Ursula suggested.

  “Yeah,” Crispin agreed, smiling, “but we call him Mr. Tibbles still. Her, I mean.”

  “Well, that will be exciting. Do the babies have their eyes open, and their fur and everything?”

  “Guinea pigs aren’t born naked and blind like other rodents,” Crispin told her. "They’re like hares. They’re born with fur and with their eyes open already.”

  “Oh. I thought all rodents were born with their eyes shut. Well, it will be exciting to play with Mr. Tibbles’ babies, won’t it?”

  Crispin nodded and rubbed his eyes.

  “Okay,” Ursula said. "Time for bed now, okay?” She reached over and turned off his lamp. Ursula leaned down and gave Crispin a kiss, and left. She tucked in Meggie, who was also drowsy, and went to find Juneau.

  “Hi June,” she greeted, bending down to give Juneau a kiss on the cheek as Juneau bent over her homework. “How’s it going, honey?”

  “I put the kids in bed. They were pretty good about it. Dad wasn’t feeling well, he went to lie down. I’ve been working on my homework.”

  “Thanks. Are you nearly done? You will need time to relax and unwind before bed.”

  “Yeah, almost done. This Shakespeare is going to do me in, though. I just don’t get it.”

  “Shakespeare can be tough. Do you want me to read it over with you?”

  “No, I can do it. We’ll discuss it in class, so that will help. As long as I’ve read it, it’s fine. The teacher doesn’t expect us to understand it all.”

  “Okay. You ask if you need help. I don’t want you getting a bad mark just because you were too proud to ask.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Alright. I’ll go check on how Dad is doing.”

  Ursula left Juneau to her work and went to the bedroom to find Abe. He sprawled across the covers of the bed, fast asleep. Ursula sat on the edge of the bed beside him and stroked his hair, waiting for him to awaken. Eventually Abe started to stir. He groaned and turned over the opposite direction.

  “Abe. Wake up and talk to me for a minute, honey,” she encouraged, shaking his arm gently. “I want to see how you’re doing. Juneau said you weren’t feeling well.”

  “No,” Abe grunted. “Lemme alone.”

  “Is it your stomach? Your head? Do you think one of the new medications is bothering you?” Ursula suggested.

  “No,” Abe groaned, tossing again, to face Ursula’s direction. She leaned closer to him to look at his face and to check if he had a fever. The reek of alcohol hit her nostrils.

  “Whew. Have you been drinking?” Ursula demanded.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “How much?” Ursula looked around, but there weren't any empty cans or bottles out.

  “Jus’ a little,” Abe slurred.

  “Just a little, my foot! You’re dead drunk! You can’t do that in a house with kids, Abe! What kind of an example is that? What if there was an emergency, and you were too drunk to handle it?”

  “Juneau’s here,” Abe said, running his hand over his brow, pushing his hair out of the way. His eyes opened a slit to look at her, then closed again. “She can take care’f things.”

  “Juneau doesn’t need to be dealing with a drunken father and the kids too. It’s irresponsible, Abe. You can’t drink like that! And how does it affect your medications? Are you even allowed to drink with the meds you’re on?”

  “Shut up,” Abe groaned. “Lemme ‘lone. Let me sleep.”

  Ursula blew out her breath angrily. But there was no point in trying to discuss it with Abe tonight. In the morning, he probably wouldn’t even remember the discussion, and they’d have to have the same fight all over again.

  “Shove over to your own side,” she ordered, giving him a push.

  Abe clumsily hefted himself over to one side of the bed, and started to snore. Ursula shook her head and tried to decide whether to stay there or to move to the guest room for the night.

  “Good morning,” Ursula greeted loudly, as Abe shuffled into the kitchen. He already had sunglasses on, and she kind of hoped that her voice grated on his hangover. It served him right for drinking that way.

  “Morning dear,” Abe said evenly.

  “Did you want to make something this morning, or are we having a cold breakfast?”

  “Cold breakfast,” he murmured, and went to the fridge.

  Abe pulled out the orange juice, got a cup from the cupboard, and sat down at the table. Slouched into a chair, Abe sipped the orange juice, with a newspaper spread in front of him. Ursula could tell by the lack of page-turning that he wasn’t actually reading it.

  “Are you okay?” Ursula questioned.

  “Just a bit of a
headache,” Abe muttered.

  “Why were you drinking so much?”

  “I didn’t drink that much,” Abe responded, his voice low and even.

  “You were pretty much passed out when I was trying to talk to you.”

  “I was tired. There’s a difference.”

  “I don’t want you drinking like that around the kids.”

  “I wasn’t around the kids. I didn’t drink anything in front of them.”

  “But if there had been an emergency, there’s nothing that you could have done about it.”

  Abe glanced up at her momentarily, and then away again. It wasn’t like he’d been functioning terribly well sober lately, either.

  “I just want you to talk to me,” Ursula said. “If there’s something on your mind, why don’t you tell me about it? I’m your wife, I’m here to help you out.”

  “Telling you the things in my head wouldn’t help anything,” Abe said dully. “There’s nothing you can do about that.”

  A wave of cold rushed over Ursula, like she’d been doused with a bucket of cold water. Goosebumps stood up on her arms.

  “What things that are in your head?” she questioned slowly.

  Abe sipped his orange juice and pretended to read the paper, turning to the next page.

  “Abe, what things are in your head that I can’t help with?” Ursula persisted.

  “Anything. My head is full of all kinds of ideas and worries and projects. You can’t help with that. No one can help with that.”

  “Do you think the medications are helping? Maybe you should go back to see Doctor Venner. Tell him that you’re still having trouble.”

  “I have an appointment to see him again already,” Abe said dismissively. “I’ll be fine until then.”

  “It worries me. Seeing you drinking, out of control, worried all the time…”

  “Well, that’s the life of someone living with a schizophrenic,” he said baldly.

  Ursula was stunned by his coldness. She turned her back on him and continued to get breakfast out for herself and the kids. Tears burned her eyes, but she stayed stoic. It was true, even if it was cruel. That was the life of someone living with a schizophrenic. There would always be unwanted thoughts and demons in Abe’s head. She couldn’t make them go away. No amount of talk, logic, or suggestions were going to change that. All she could do was to continue to be supportive, and let him try to work it out. She was there if he needed to talk; Abe knew that. He knew where to find his doctors, where the hospitals were if he needed to reset, how to access all of the different programs and resources they had discovered over the years. All that she could do was sit by and hope that he would stabilize again.

  Abe emptied his glass and stood.

  “Where are the kids?” he questioned. “I want to say good-bye.”

  Ursula gestured mutely toward the stairs. Abe went back upstairs. As she sat down trying to choke down her juice and toast, he came back into the kitchen.

  “I’m really sorry about everything,” he said, bending down to give her a kiss and smooth her hair. “I never meant for it to be like this.”

  “I know, Abe. I hope you know I’m just trying to help you.”

  “Don’t ever forget that I love you, no matter what happens.”

  Ursula's eyes teared up.

  “Abe… don’t talk like that. You’re scaring me. Everything will be okay. You’re not going to… to go somewhere?”

  “Just work, as usual,” he said lightly.

  “Oh - okay. Be careful, okay?”

  He looked suddenly at her, and though Ursula could not see his eyes through the sunglasses, she knew how they looked right now - wide and scared, panicked. She recognized that tilt to his head, and it drove a spike of fear through her own heart.

  “Why? Be careful of what?” he asked urgently.

  “No, nothing is wrong,” Ursula tried to calm him. "I meant drive carefully. Watch out for speeders and all that. Traffic…”

  “Did you know they’re out there?” Abe questioned. “Every time I’m out there driving. Following me. They might try to kill me.”

  “Abe, there’s no one out here trying to kill you. That’s just your illness talking. Everything is fine.”

  “I’ve seen them, Ursula. It’s not a trick of my mind. They’re always there, following me.”

  “Oh, Abe. Don’t you think you’d better see a doctor? Right away?”

  “No. No doctors. They can’t help with this. This is something for the police or FBI to deal with. A doctor couldn’t do anything.”

  “You know it’s not real.”

  “Yes, Urs, it is,” he said adamantly.

  He straightened his glasses and turned to go to the garage.

  “I love you, Ursula,” he declared softly, and paused. “I always will.”

  Then he was gone. Ursula covered her mouth, trying to suppress the open-mouthed grimace of grief that overcame her. She closed her mouth, closed her eyes, covered her eyes with her hands, breathing, trying to keep the shuddering breaths from turning into jerking sobs. She counted slowly, timing her breathing, forcing her body to obey her and not reveal what she was feeling inside.

  When she uncovered her eyes, Crispin and Meggie were standing at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Mom?” Crispin said, in a scared voice.

  Ursula held out her arms to him.

  “It’s okay, Crispy Critter. What’s the matter?”

  He and Meggie both came to her outstretched arms and hugged her tightly.

  “Mom, is Dad okay?” Crispin questioned.

  “He said goodbye,” Meggie said tearfully. “Like he was never coming back.”

  “It’s okay,” Ursula insisted, though she was worried too, so very worried. “Daddy will be back. He’s just having a hard time these days.”

  “I’m scared,” Crispin insisted. “I’m so worried about him.”

  “I know, sweetie. We’re all concerned. But Daddy’s working with his doctor, and they’re trying different medications, and something will work. We’ll get him feeling better soon.”

  “What if we don’t?” Juneau said, standing at the bottom of the stairs. "Then what?”

  They were all silent.

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. But until then… let’s everybody promise to work together. We’ll all do our best to help Dad feel comfortable and safe. Even if we think that he’s just being silly. We’ll never tell him that his fears are stupid or try to make him feel bad about them. We’ll do whatever we can to help him to feel like home, at least, is a safe place, and he can always come back here and be safe with his family.”

  The children all nodded solemnly. Meggie sucked on her finger.

  “Now let’s get ready for school,” Ursula instructed.

  Ursula looked in on Abe and found him asleep yet again. She sighed and checked his pulse and his breath and went back downstairs to read a book. Time stood still while she read, and when the phone rang and she looked at the clock, she was surprised to see how late it was. She picked up the receiver without checking the caller ID.

  “Hello?”

  “Ursula, it’s Dennis.”

  “Dennis, hi! I’m afraid Abe has hit the sack…”

  “Actually, I wanted to talk to you.”

  Ursula’s stomach tensed, and she wasn’t so sure that that late-night nip of wine had been a good idea.

  “Sure Dennis, any time. How can I help you? Are you looking for a new house?”

  “No. Ursula. I wanted to talk to you about Abe.”

  “What about Abe?”

  “I wondered how things were going at home. He’s been having some problems here.”

  “Well,” Ursula hesitated, “he’s been having problems ever since the jewel heist. But I think that things are still… under control.”

  “Are you sure?” Dennis questioned. "I’m not so sure. He gets to work late, without a warning call to say that something is going on. I’ve caught him drinking
on the job; and of course he’s driving home. When he’s here… his work is still brilliant, but he’s obviously distracted. Sometimes I overhear him talking to himself. He’s looking over his shoulder all the time. I’m sure he’s breaking down.”

  Ursula sucked in her breath and held it.

  “How is he at home?” Dennis prodded.

  “He is drinking,” Ursula confirmed.

  “A lot?”

  “Yes. Until he passes out,” she admitted.

  “That’s what my brother does to silence the voices,” Dennis said. “He says it’s the only way to numb himself enough that he can’t hear the voices any more. Or doesn’t care if he does hear them.”

  “Abe won’t admit that he’s hearing any voices. But I suspect he is.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Making mistakes - like picking up the wrong child at school. He went from not being able to sleep at night to sleeping late. And he’s… saying goodbye.”

  Dennis didn’t say anything at first.

  “How can I help, Urs?” he said finally, breaking the silence.

  “I’ll look into it. All we can do right now is support him.”

  “Is he taking his meds? Or is he off of them?”

  “He’s still taking everything. That’s what I don’t understand. He is taking them. The doctor increased his dose, and gave him some additional support. I don’t understand it.”

  “Sometimes people have paradoxical reactions. They react the opposite way to the drug that they’re supposed to. Maybe that’s all that happened, and we just need to figure out what he’s reacting to and switch it out.”

  “Okay. I’ll talk to Dr. Venner, and see what he thinks.”

  “All right. Keep me updated. I want to help out.”

  “Thanks, Dennis. I appreciate you caring enough to call. I don’t want to believe that he’s headed for a full psychotic break… I’ve been trying to ignore the signs. Just not believe it.”

  “I know how tough it is. I’m sorry you have to go through all of this.”

  “How are you doing? With the investigation and the heist and everything, is it really stressful at work?”

  “Yeah. But they haven’t said much to me. I think Abe is the most suspicious character, as far as they’re concerned.”

  “They just don’t understand that he couldn’t possibly be involved in something like that. They don’t know him.”

  “It’s driving him crazy,” Dennis stopped, realizing he’s used the tabooed word. “Well. Yeah, it is actually driving him crazy. I wish they’d just leave him alone.”

  Ursula went to the kitchen and pulled out the drawer that neatly housed Abe’s medications. She shook the boxes for today. They were empty. She shook the boxes for tomorrow. They were full. Just as they should be. She checked the boxes for the other days of the week, and they were all full. Ursula relaxed a little. He was taking his meds, just like Ursula had told Dennis.

  She looked in the cupboard below the drawer and pulled out the paper bag with the rest of the meds in it. She pulled out the pill bottles, and her heart sank as she lined them up along the counter. They were full. Way too full. She checked the pill count on the prescription bottle, and dumped them out. Six short of a full count. And six full pill boxes in the drawer. Abe hadn’t taken any of them. She swept them back into the bottle and dumped out the next one. Ditto. She knew from looking at the other pill bottles that she would find the same answer for each one. Abe had stopped taking all of his pills. He hadn’t taken any at all since they had been prescribed. No wonder he’d been breaking down so quickly. No wonder he had to drown the voices with alcohol.