by Coralee June
My teeth clenched at the notion, and I gripped my phone so tightly I could have cracked it. “You want me to talk to her? You want me to tell her I’m the bad guy so she can go back to playing house with you?”
“Yeah. I mean, why not?” Mack began. I sensed a lecture coming on. “She knows now. There’s no point in hiding it anymore. You watch her all the time. Maybe it could save us both some headache if you actually attempted to, I don’t know, be her friend?”
The words absolutely and not warred on my tongue. Mack spoke again, not giving me the chance to refuse him. “Just think about it, okay? Maybe we can migrate to a healthier level of obsession. One that doesn’t invade her privacy. One founded on trust. Maybe we can get to a place where she just comes to us when she needs help instead of us anticipating her needs? I probably sound crazy here…”
His voice bled with sarcasm. But that was the entire point to my system. Mack was supposed to build up a foundation of care and act as a buffer between her and me. I didn’t trust myself to be close. I hated her too much to mingle my responsibility with feelings. I was supposed to watch from afar and anticipate her flighty tendencies with Mack’s guidance. Now, it was all just a clusterfuck of epic proportions. Maybe he was right. Maybe I needed to switch things up.
“You still there?” Mack asked when I had been quiet for too long.
“Yeah. Stay safe at work tonight,” I replied before ending the call, not bothering to hear his response. I didn’t want to give Mack the satisfaction of admitting he was right. It was time to change things.
It was too easy to sneak into her bedroom. It pissed me off how oblivious she was. I silently watched outside her window until she disappeared into the kitchen for a snack, then let myself inside. I’d for certain be nailing that motherfucking window shut the first chance I got. It was too damn easy to break in. My anxiety spiked. Maybe I wasn’t doing enough to make sure she was secure? She needed a watchdog. Maybe some more cameras.
I couldn’t tell if my anxiousness was from me wanting to save her from everyone else or myself.
I walked around her room, feeling intrusive and odd while sweeping my fingers along the top of her dresser. Earrings, dust, and quarters had collected there in a disorganized array of life and clutter. Her mirror was smudged with fingerprints, and her desk had books stacked on it. I stared at the papers on her bed, inching closer while listening for footsteps. I didn’t give a fuck if she caught me snooping, though I probably should.
I came here with a purpose. I wanted to patch things up between her and Mack and gain her trust. I was tired of worrying if she’d run away or do something stupid like go to the police. Maybe if we established a truce, it would make all of our lives easier.
Maybe.
I picked up one paper and scanned it, pausing when I realized it was a poem she planned to submit for the scholarship opportunity. She’s never stuck with anything, but for some reason, she was determined to keep with this. Mrs. Sellars seemed to have Roe pinned down, and if shit with Mack didn’t work out, I’d be hiring that sassy old woman next.
A Mother’s Shame
She used to knock on death’s door and rock on the floor.
Don’t go outside, Baby. It’s just another day.
Beautiful shell of a woman. I used to stroke her cheek as she told me about cancer of the soul.
Car accidents are just God’s choreography.
Funerals, a divine comedy.
I was drowning in her words, absorbing them like a sponge and trying not to blame myself for her arduous childhood. I was only a kid myself when I’d taken on the role of her secret protector. But it was one thing to know about what she’d been through and another thing entirely to have the portrait painted with dynamic, haunting words.
Roe’s mother was obsessed with death. She feared it, studied it, and pushed those compulsions on her daughter.
And it was all my fault.
The slamming of the front door shocked me out of my reading. What the fuck? I quickly dropped the paper and ran after her, my chest constricted. As I traveled down the hallway, I tried to think of what she was up to. She didn’t pack a bag or anything and was in her fucking pajamas. Where was she going?
The moment I opened the front door, a gust of icy wind slammed against my cheeks, and I twisted my body to search for her. Was she taking out the trash? Checking the mail? Running away? “I’m not going anywhere, Stalker,” she said with a sigh to my right. I released some of the tension in my chest and turned to face her. Her pajamas were way too thin for the fall Denver chill. I couldn’t help but stare at the threadbare top clinging to her chest and her pebbled, perky tits pointing at me.
No. No no no. I was not staring at her fucking tits.
She wore plaid pajama pants, and her hair was up in a messy bun with light brown wisps framing her face. Her rosy cheeks bloomed at the sight of me, and each exhale made a visible plume of her hot breath flow over my skin.
“You knew I was here?” I asked in a low voice as she crouched down on the patio and placed a plastic plate with tuna on the concrete. Her broken arm was useless by her side, and I fixated on it as she replied.
“Yep. Saw you parked outside. Figured you’d either sit there all night or try to murder me in my sleep.”
I blinked twice, not sure if I was hearing her correctly. “I’m not here to fucking murder you,” I bit back. “I’d have to care to kill.” I was definitely losing my touch. I was a fucking assassin; part of the job was being able to find a person’s routine. I hid in the shadows on the daily and could sneak up on the best of them. Was Roe as attuned to me as I was to her?
“And yet you care enough to keep me alive,” she snarked back.
Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I trembled from the chill and spoke again. “Why are you even outside right now?”
A low meow answered me and drew my attention to a black cat slipping up the drive and running toward Roe. The thing was surprisingly fat for being a stray, and even though the weather was freezing, it didn’t seem bothered. “I sometimes like to leave food out for our neighbor’s cat. It’s getting cold now, so she probably won’t be stopping by as often.” The plump cat moseyed over to Roe and wove between her legs with a purr before inspecting the plate of tuna.
Roe scratched behind its ear while shivering, her bare arm pebbled with goose bumps from the icy wind. “You’ll get sick out here in the cold. Let’s go inside,” I offered.
“Fine.”
After scratching the cat behind the ears one more time, she finally stood and headed back inside with me following her. Once the door was shut and locked, she spoke. “Why are you here, Hunter? Are you going to make me use that cellphone you got me? Threaten me? Beat up my boyfriend again?” she gritted while letting down her hair and brushing her nimble fingers through it.
“Ex-boyfriend,” I corrected, not sure why of all the defiant, ridiculous things she’d just said, that was the first thing that stood out in my mind.
“Right.” Her face twisted into a poised scowl that somehow looked both beautiful and fierce. “I thought you wanted to pretend things were normal. This,” she began while gesturing between us, “is not normal, Hunter.”
No, it fucking wasn’t. But what the fuck even was normal? I’d been watching this girl in secret for eighteen years. I controlled her entire life, hired her guardian. Normal wasn’t in our dynamic, it never has been. “Mack said you’re giving him trouble. I just wanted to chat about it.”
She scoffed, her honey eyes widening with disbelief as she shook her head. “Trouble? I’ve done nothing wrong. I go to school, come home, and stay in my room. We don’t talk. I keep out of his way, he stays out of mine. I stopped sleeping around. I even skipped out on a party tonight. I’m doing what you’ve asked. How can I be giving him trouble when we don’t even talk?”
She strutted over to the kitchen and opened the freezer, pulling out a pint of ice cream. “That’s the problem. He...he misses you.” My words seemed clumsy an
d shallow, but I didn’t really know what the hell I was supposed to say. I was definitely out of my depth, chatting about feelings and shit.
“Well then, he can talk to me about it himself. He’s a big boy and doesn’t need his stalker boss mending fences for him.”
I watched as she shuffled through the utensil drawer. Settling on the biggest spoon she could find, she then started stabbing at the frozen treat while mumbling to herself. I just stared like I always did, cataloging her willowy body as it swayed. I bit my lip as her hand gripped the handle to her spoon. “You can leave now. I’m not going anywhere,” she finally sputtered with a full mouth. Some creamy chocolate gathered at the corner of her lips, and I was tempted to lick it right off of her.
My next words were fucking ridiculous. “I read your poem.” She froze up at my admission. Her pout dipped and her eyes turned glassy. There was a split second of pure, raw feelings. It was like lifting the veil of her consciousness and getting a front-row seat to all the things that worried her. My fingers itched to reach out and stroke her cheek.
And as quickly as her vulnerability appeared, she locked it down behind her stone-like eyes and continued to eat her ice cream. “I should probably bring up the gross invasion of privacy, but that would be redundant, hmm?” she said with a humorless laugh before slamming the pint of ice cream on the granite countertop.
“I didn’t realize…” my voice trailed off. This was not how I thought this evening would go. “I knew your mother was a recluse and a bit obsessed but…”
“Didn’t realize?” She scoffed while shaking her head incredulously. “You’re so pious. You thought just because you’ve been watching me all this time that you somehow know me? Fuck that. You know nothing.”
She was wrong, though I didn’t vocalize that. I knew her better than I probably knew myself. I’d seen how she processed trauma. I’d watched her find happiness in the hearts of unworthy, fumbling boys. I’d seen how it took years for her to open up to Mack, and one mess up on my part built those walls back up. I knew how she searched for death in every room, how she was trained to read danger like an open book. I knew how her laugh sounded when it was real. I knew that she didn’t give herself enough credit.
“I have no desire to know you,” I lied. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“You’re a fucking liar,” she said before wiping her hands off on a towel and taking a step to move past me. I wasn’t ready for our conversation to be over, though. Reaching out, I grabbed her wrist, yanking her toward me. Our chests collided like a car crash. My bones curled and groaned at her closeness. She let out a breathy little gasp that didn’t sound like shock or surprise. No, it sounded like lust.
“Let go of me,” she whispered, though she did not try to put distance between us. She breathed in slow and deep, pressing her breasts against my chest with each methodical inhale. Her cheeks were flushed, and her breath smelled like chocolate.
“My foster home was three blocks from your mother’s apartment in New York. Well, one of your apartments,” I admitted. “I’d climb the stoop and check on the two of you when I could. You moved, and I lost you for a year. But I found you again. I always found you.” I didn’t mention how that year felt like a prison. Or how I barely slept and worried something had happened to the girl destiny had saddled me with.
She squinted at me, like I was a crossword she couldn’t figure out. What’s a six letter word for obsession?
“So you really have been watching me since you were ten?” Her question was drowning with confusion and fear. “Normal ten-year-old boys aren’t creeping on newborns. You said you were in foster care? Didn’t you have anything else? Anyone else?”
She was hovering right over the truth, and it made me want to squirm. I had nothing and no one. I was born alone and would die alone, too. Sure I had my job, and Mack was a good enough friend, but I was destined to only share my life with a one-sided obsession.
She was leaning so close that one bad impulse could close the distance between our lips. I let go of her wrist just to see if she’d pull away. She didn’t.
“I had nothing. I just had you, Pretty Debt.” My admission made bile crawl up my throat and burn me from the inside out. Silence. Total silence. We stood staring at one another, too close to be appropriate and yet too far, as well. She pressed her tongue against her cheek while assessing me. Had I said too much? Too far?
“You staying the night, Stalker?” she finally asked.
“Yes.”
“There’re sheets and blankets in the linen closet, and the couch folds out into a bed. Goodnight.”
And like the skilled runner she was, she disappeared down the hallway and away from me.
ROE
“Let’s skip class,” Nicole said while twisting a lock of blond hair around her index finger. We hadn’t been talking a lot lately, though I’d seen her on Joel’s heels in the hallway. She’d invited me out to a party, but I spent the weekend hiding in my room, with the devil sleeping on my couch.
I wasn’t expecting Hunter to stay as long as he did. Something came up at work for Mack, and he didn’t come home until late Sunday night. I was fine with being alone, but Hunter took it upon himself to be my babysitter. It pissed me off, but part of me liked having the opportunity to get to know him better. The only problem was we refused to speak to one another. We even stayed on complete opposite sides of the house.
Honestly, I didn’t trust the level of empathy I felt for the lonely boy with nothing but an obsession with me to keep him company. Empathy was one of those slippery slope emotions that burned up your better judgement. Not to mention, the man was too damn sexy. It was easy to forget how fucked up he was when he looked like a walking Calvin Klein ad. It was thirty degrees outside, and he spent all of Sunday shirtless and lounging on the couch. It felt like he was testing my reaction to him, and every time my cheeks bloomed with a harsh blush, I felt like a failure.
“Why do you want to skip class?” I asked Nicole before slamming my locker shut. Usually her reckless ideas stemmed from a deeper issue, and I was curious just how far she was willing to go. She looked good today. She wore a short, little skirt with black tights and high heels. Her sweater was more like a crop top, and her cropped hair was curled perfectly.
In stark contrast, I was wearing long jeans and tennis shoes. My hair was a wavy mess, and I couldn’t be fucked to use concealer to hide the dark bags under my eyes. It was hard to sleep last night, knowing Hunter was near. My imagination kept conjuring him at the foot of my bed. I almost preferred him watching me from a distance than sleeping just down the hall.
“Well, if you’d check your phone, you’d see that my parents are going out of town again to some bullshit conference in New York they just have to attend. They’re missing my piano recital.”
I nodded like this was something I understood. I never really put expectations on my mother. She was far too lost in her own grief and mental illness to focus on me. She taught me how to fear. She taught me that relationships were weaknesses, and the only person I could trust was myself.
“I’m sorry, girl,” I replied. I had empathy for her. The last eight years, I’d been given a father figure that cared. Even though I didn’t really give Mack that many options to attend extracurricular activities, I bet he would attend whatever bullshit I tried. He’d probably show up wearing a fedora to my poetry reading and would snap louder than all the other parents combined. This strange distance between us was getting harder and harder to navigate. Maybe Hunter was right, we needed a truce.
“Let’s just go for a drive or maybe out to eat? I just don’t feel like going to class,” Nicole pouted. “Or we could drive up to Denver University? See what kind of trouble we could get into. Joel could get us some edibles, probably. I have a friend that could buy us beer.” Every statement got progressively more self-destructive, and I started to worry. I bet she wanted to go somewhere she’d get caught so her parents would have a reason to stay. Nicole was nice enough an
d yet also painfully transparent. She’d never admit that she acted up for that reason but didn’t deny it either.
“I don’t know if I should,” I began, my voice trailing off as I felt that familiar sensation of being watched travel down my spine. Hunter was pretty clear on the rules, but rebellion was in my soul. My sense of self-preservation pushed me to listen, but I also wanted to show him that I wouldn’t roll over and heel just because he threatened me. And aside from my broken arm, my body had healed some, which meant I was more capable of putting up a fight.
There was a deeply buried part of me that wanted to rebel, if just for the chance to be chased. It was electrifying to be on the receiving end of his obsession, in a petrifying sort of way. He’d given me breadcrumbs to his past over the weekend, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted to learn where he came from and why...me? The hate he felt was palpable and toxic. It was such an odd contradiction to loathe the person you wanted to save. I wanted to figure him out, and the only way to do that was to force him out of hiding. He reacted when I pushed him.
“Yeah. Let’s cut class and go shopping in the city? I’m itching to buy some new boots,” I said loud enough, as if Hunter were listening to us now. I wasn’t sure what he was fully capable of, but refused to put anything past him. I didn’t have my phone on me, but he still seemed aware of every fucking thing going on in my life. A trip to the mall wouldn’t be too crazy, which meant I didn’t have to worry about Nicole doing something stupid to get her parents’ concern.
“Ooh! I like your style, Roe!” Nicole shouted while clapping her hands together. “Let’s go!”
It was ridiculously easy to sneak out after the bell rang. No lingering teachers in the hallway stopped us, and we walked out the front door without a hitch, the sunshine hitting our cheeks and the chilly wind caressing our skin. I eyed the parking lot with apprehension as we walked to her Prius. I half expected Hunter to jump out from behind a car and tackle me to the ground.