Eye Bleach

by Paul E. Creasy

  “Was anyone in here, girl?”

  Snowy just wagged her tail in response but then peeked around Sylvia and growled at the mirror.

  “OK, this is too creepy,” Sylvia said as she got dressed faster than she ever had in her life. She double checked the locks, and even went through the security log on her ADT system. Nothing. No one had entered since she had last night.

  “There must be some logical explanation for this,” Sylvia said as she filled Snowy’s dog dish. Looking down at her dog, she added, “OK, girl, you need to be on extra guard duty today. OK?”

  As if to answer, Snowy wagged her tail and sat down.

  *****

  “You OK, Sylvia?” Heather asked.

  “Yeah, I’m good,” Sylvia said as she pushed the chair back from her desk and rubbed her eyes. “I just think I am just a bit done for today — way too many videos in my queue. The things people think of! It truly boggles the mind.” She smiled as she added, “You know, I think I would have been better off not knowing what a Furry was.”

  “You, too?” Heather said as she suppressed a snicker. “It is amazing how things like this come in waves. Lots of copycat perves, I guess. My feed has been filled with nothing but a frothy filthy furry-fest all day, too.”

  “Yes,” Sylvia said. “I think I could have happily lived the rest of my life not having been forced to see people explore the romantic possibilities between Oscar and Grover.” She shuddered as she added, “another precious childhood memory ruined!”

  “Were you a big Sesame Street fan as a kid?”

  “Oh, big time,” Sylvia said. “And back then, it was still new. That’s how old I am.”

  Heather asked, “what were you like as a kid?”

  “You really want to know this?”

  “Oh, if it is too personal, forget I asked. I didn’t mean to offend.”

  “You didn’t offend me,” Sylvia said.

  “That’s good,” Heather said. “You have been the first person around here worth talking to. I bet you have an interesting story.”

  “Everyone has an interesting story,” Sylvia said.

  “You are too generous,” Heather said. “But…, I am curious about your story. Did you grow up in New York?”

  “Yeah, born and bred,” Sylvia said.

  “You still see your folks? God knows, every year mine come out here to have Thanksgiving with me, and it turns into one scary weekend. I suppose they think it’s the ‘family’ thing to do.”

  Sylvia laughed and said, “I don’t have that problem, thank God.”

  “No scary holidays with your parents?”

  “Well…,” Sylvia said as her lips curled into a smirk. “If mine were to show up for the holidays, it certainly would be scary. They have been dead for quite some time now.”

  “Oh!” Heather said as her hand jerked up to her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I am such an idiot. My old boyfriend always told I run my mouth too much.”

  “Hardly,” Sylvia said. “Your natural curiosity will make you a good psychologist one day. It’s a good skill to have. One I never did acquire.”

  “Oh? I wouldn’t say that,” Heather said. “You seem quite curious about people.”

  “A little,” Sylvia said. “But, I am more interested in how the human brain works. As for people…, well…, I have found that most of the time, the less you know about someone the better.” She grinned as she added, “hence the reason I spent most of my career either teaching or writing.”

  “I don’t follow,” Heather said.

  “Didn’t you know? All great writers or teachers are usually really accomplished misanthropes.”

  Heather threw her head back and laughed. “I knew I liked you the first time I set my eyes on you. And now, you just confirmed the wisdom of my first impression.”

  “I like you too, Heather,” Sylvia said. “And that takes some doing.”

  “So, since I have already outed myself as a perpetual nosy busybody, can I ask you another personal question?”

  “Fire away,” Sylvia said. “You are on a roll.”

  “Well…, all morning I have watched you moving little pieces of paper around on your desk. I guess it isn’t too revealing of me to admit, I already checked them out when you went to get a cup of coffee and saw they were letters.”

  “Like you said, you are curious,” Sylvia said.

  “And since you don’t strike me as a crossword puzzle type of gal—”

  “—You are correct,” Sylvia said.

  “So…, what is it all about?”

  “Well…,” Sylvia said. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

  “Oh? Well, now I am even more intrigued,” Heather said. “So, are you running numbers on the side? Or are you a secret agent of Putin’s?”

  “No, none of those things,” Sylvia said as she grinned. “I am afraid I am just a middle-aged woman with an overactive imagination.”

  “OK, Sylvia,” Heather said. “Now you have to tell me. You know I not only have a serious issue with personal boundaries, and I am a horrible snoop, but you may not know that I also have an impulse control problem.”

  Sylvia smiled. “You know, it isn’t a stretch to see that. I already had you pegged on the DSM.”

  “Touché,” Heather said. “So, go ahead. You know you are going to tell me anyway, so you might as well not wait.”

  “OK,” Sylvia said with a sigh. “But…, I don’t want you to think I am a nut.”

  “Oh boy,” Heather said. “This must be good, then.” She grinned and added, “and you of all people should know — psychologists don’t use the word ‘nut’ lightly.”

  “True…,” Sylvia said. “OK. Well, what I am about to say sounds kind of spooky—”

  “—I love spooky!”

  “Well, this morning, after my shower there appeared to be some kind of message written in my mirror,” Sylvia said.

  “Written? How do you mean…, written?” Heather asked.

  Sylvia said, “The letters were formed in the condensation on the mirror.” Drawing in the air, she added, “like someone wrote it out with their finger.”

  “That is spooky…, and kind of cool, actually,” Heather said, her smile growing wider as she spoke. “But, it isn’t that much of a mystery, really.”

  “Oh?” Sylvia asked.

  “You are living in a new apartment, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well…, without getting too personal, I would bet you haven’t cleaned your mirror yet.”

  “Well…, no,” Sylvia said. “But what does that—”

  “—Here, come with me. I’ll show you,” Heather said as she stood up and led Sylvia down the hall to the women’s bathroom. Once inside, she walked up to one of the mirrors above the sink. “Now, what were the letters you saw written in your bathroom this morning?”

  “It didn’t make much sense,” Sylvia said. “It was just a bunch of letters.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter,” Heather said. “Just spell out what was written.”

  “MAERC ECI EHT EKIL UOY DID,” Sylvia said. “All in caps.”

  “OK,” Heather said as she traced the letters with her finger over the glass. “That should do it. Now, watch,” she added as she turned the knob on the faucet to hot. Within a few seconds steam rose from the sink and as if by magic, the letters Heather had traced with her finger appeared on the mirror.

  “Well, will you look at that,” Sylvia said.

  “Your finger leaves a trail of oils on the glass, and when the steam hits, it doesn’t fog up. Don’t ask me how I know this,” Heather said.

  “I guess the former tenant was writing something out,” Sylvia said. “Well…, thank you. Mystery solved.” She smiled and added, “I was in full Nancy Drew-mode this morning.”

  “Nancy who?”

  Sylvia shook her head, “Never mind.” She grinned as she added, “you sure know how to make me feel old.”

  After Heather turned off the faucet, the two women wa
lked out of the bathroom and back toward their cubicles.

  “I feel like such a fool,” Sylvia said as they walked. “You should have seen me this morning as I wandered around my apartment checking and rechecking all the doors and windows. I was a complete wreck. I was totally convinced someone had broken in.”

  “Mountain View is pretty safe,” Heather said. “Plus, what did you think these robbers did? Break into your house to write on your mirror and then leave without taking anything?”

  “When you put it that way, it does seem kind of silly,” Sylvia said. “I guess if they broke in, they would have taken something.”

  “Yeah. Like I said, Mountain View is very safe, unless, of course, you are operating a computer network. Then all bets are off.” She grinned and added, “the only actual crime I see being committed in this town are crimes against fashion. For example, did you see Susie’s shoes yesterday? Honestly, someone needs to talk to that gal.”

  “You are so harsh,” Sylvia said as she stifled a giggle. “I can only imagine what you have to say about my espadrilles behind my back.”

  Heather raised her eyebrow and said, “Well…, I was going to talk to you about that.”

  Sylvia and Heather both returned to their desks, and Sylvia sat down and turned her monitor back on. “Time to return to the Furry-a-palooza! Sheesh…, watching this perverted nonsense makes me feel dirty.”

  “You can always shower in the gym before you go home,” Heather said.

  Sylvia’s office phone rang and she answered it. “Hello. Sylvia Marstens speak—”

  “Listen up, bitch!” the voice on the other end snarled. It was a woman’s voice and the rage coming through the line was palpable. The accent was Southern, and the caller was obviously agitated.

  “Excuse me?” Sylvia said. “I’m sorry, but you must have a wrong—”

  “—Oh no, it’s no wrong number. I have been trying to track your moldy ass down for weeks. Obviously that moron man of yours forgot that I pay his phone bill!”

  “I am sorry, Miss, but you really do have—”

  “—Stop with the games, Alyssa! We are past all that now. Daryl made a lot of calls to this number. I guess you, and he, thought you were being cute by not using your home or cell number. But damn, you two are dumb. Maybe you are perfect for each other after all.”

  “Ah…,” Sylvia said as she nodded her head. “Now it makes sense. You have the right number, but the wrong person. Alyssa doesn’t work here anymore.”

  “Don’t try to fool me, Alyssa. I know it’s you. And I also know that if you think he is going to let you keep that baby, you need to have your head examined! Typical. Typical dumbass, redneck bitch.”

  “I really am not Alyssa, she is—, wait…, what was this about the baby?”

  “Oh, I see you are still trying to hide things, Alyssa. Pretending you are someone else,” the caller said. “I gotta hand it to you. You always were a sneaky bitch. You haven’t changed a bit.”

  “I hate to tell you this, but you really do have the wrong number. And despite this being such a pleasant and exhilarating chat, I am going to hang up now.”

  “I should have known something was up when I first met you and that punk ass, bitch, Goth friend of yours,” the voice said. “I knew you two were trouble. Well, you think you can fool me, but you can’t. Your Kentucky accent is still seeping out of your throat like pine tar, baby. I can hear it. I can hear it in your voice, buried under those layers of respectability you have piled up on top of your coal dust-covered roots. Yeah…, you may have duped Darryl, and snowed his Momma, but you sure as shit didn’t con me. You ain’t nothing but white trash, and you know it.”

  Sylvia felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck, and despite her instinct to immediately hang up, she kept on the line and listened in silence.

  “Well now…, that shut your cracker, pie-hole up, didn’t it? I must’ve hit the bullseye with that one. Truth hurts, don’t it? Now listen to me carefully, cause I’m not going to be long.”

  “Go on,” Sylvia said.

  “I don’t care about you, or Darryl, or any of you crazy loons anymore. I just want my money! Darryl cleaned out the account— twenty thousand dollars, and I want it back. You can keep him, the lying bastard. But you can tell him he has exactly forty-eight hours to get me my money, or I am going to call the police. And I tell you what, you and he won’t like that one bit…, no sir.”

  “The police? Listen, if Darryl stole your money, then, go ahead. What do I care if you call the—”

  “—Oh…, you are good, ain’t ya?” the voice said. “Playing it up real slick, like you don’t know nothing about it. Well, I’m not going to the police about the money, you dumb bitch. It was Darryl’s account anyway, but it was my money in it. Damn, what a fool I was. No, this is about something much worse than stealing money. Much, much, much worse, and it will end up with you two going away for a long time.”

  “Well, I know I am going to regret asking, but, what are you talking about?”

  “Ah…, now you’re interested. See…, I know all about what you and Darryl and the rest of you freaks been up to. I know all about that whacko Circle shit, or whatever you call it. And I am quite sure the California State Police might take a dim view of your activities. Lots of farmers up in the valley been complaining. Disgusting! I got enough pictures to put you, Darryl and that witchy friend of yours away for a long time.”

  “Farmers?”

  Heather, watching from over the cubicle divider, motioned to Sylvia to hand her the phone. “Let me talk to this nut job,” she whispered.

  “OK, but try and find out what she is talking about,” Sylvia whispered back as she covered the receiver with her hand.

  Heather nodded, took the phone, and spoke. “Now listen here you toothless redneck bitch, you don’t know who you are dealing with.”

  Sylvia sat back as she watched Heather take command of the conversation. It was quite impressive. If this job at UVid didn’t work out, or if Heather never pursued her counseling license, it was clear that she could have a lucrative career in credit collections.

  After an initial shouting match where Sylvia heard some of the most poetic and forceful obscenities she had ever heard uttered, the conversation became subdued. Hearing only one side of the call, it was hard to gauge what was being said, but it was apparent, the caller had calmed down.

  “So, we have an understanding then, don’t we?” Heather said. “Yes…, Good…., OK then…., And don’t ever call here again!”

  After Heather hung up the phone, Sylvia and Heather turned towards the sound of applause coming from over their shoulders. It was Steve.

  “Holy crap that was the most impressive thing I have ever seen,” Steve said. “Very Alpha. Man…, you are one badass beeyotch, Heather. So sexy.”

  “Perve,” Heather said as she rolled her eyes.

  “Guilty as charged,” Steve said as he raised his hand. “But, in the interest of at least pretending to be a manager around here, just exactly what was this all about? You were very loud.” He grinned as he added, “even for you.”

  “Some psycho called here for Alyssa,” Heather said. “But I am confident she won’t call back.”

  “Alyssa must still be listed in the dial by name,” Steve said. “I guess I need to let HR know to update the phone directory.”

  “I wonder if someone needs to get in contact with Alyssa and warn her about this woman?” Sylvia asked. “She sounds kind of dangerous.”

  “That mental case?” Heather said after emitting a dismissive huff and pointing to the phone. “I wouldn’t worry about her anymore. Someone just needed to stand up to her. I know the type, all bluster and no follow through.”

  “Yeah, but, all that talk about the baby, and then that weird stuff she was saying about the police and—”

  “—Alyssa was into some weird shit,” Heather said. “That mama had way too much drama going on in her life. Frankly, I am not surprised she was involved in
some sort of ménage-a-trois redneck love triangle. Typical.”

  “Still…, I think she needs to be told,” Sylvia said.

  “Well,” Steve said. “You could tell her yourself. She is your neighbor, you know.”

  “What?” Sylvia said.

  “You live at Avalon Terrace, right?” Steve said.

  “Yes.”

  “Apartment 102?”

  “Yes! How do you know this?”

  Steve smiled and tapped his right temple. “The curse of photographic memory. I saw your address when I filled out your new employee paperwork. Alyssa lives in apartment 103.” He shrugged and added, “what are the odds?”

  “Holy crap!” Sylvia said. “This is too freaky.”

  “It is weird,” Heather said. She turned to Sylvia and said, “and this might just change my theory about your message. It just seems so…, crazy.”

  Sylvia sat back hard in her chair and exhaled. “I don’t like this. I don’t like this one bit!”

  “What are you two talking about? What message?” Steve said.

  “Sylvia saw something written in her mirror this morning,” Heather said as she pointed to the pieces of paper on Sylvia’s desk. “We were just talking about it when she got that call.”

  Steve hummed, “Doo doo doo do, doo doo doo do.”

  “It’s not funny, Steve,” Sylvia said.

  “I know,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make light of it. But…, you must admit, it does seem like an episode of the Twilight Zone.” He then leaned over and saw the letters written on the paper. A knowing look fell over his face as he quickly stood up straight. “Well now…, this is freaky. You do know what this says, right?”

  “No! What? I thought it was just a bunch of mixed up letters,” Sylvia said.