Curious Obsession

by Elora Ramirez

  I pull the phone away from my ear just long enough to check the time and frown.

  “I know. Why are you awake? It’s 4:00 in the morning.”

  He laughs, a throaty sound heavy with sleep.

  “I uh…I had a lot on my mind too. Tonight was not a night for sleeping, I suppose. Plus I got back-to-back messages that definitely made me forget about allowing myself to forget about what a nightmare this week has been.”

  I put him on speaker so I can get dressed. With the hotel robe wrapped around me, I dry my hair enough to throw it back into a top knot. Putting it up like this while it’s still wet basically requires that I’ll be wearing it piled on top of my head until I can actually wash my hair tomorrow, but I could care less about actual styling right now.

  “Did you check out the blog?”

  “Yeah. I did.”

  “And?”

  I hear shuffling on the other end of the line and it sounds like he’s readjusting himself in bed. I swallow and push back images of him tangled in sheets and pull out my pajamas and a pair of underwear. I take one look at the window in the room and there’s still a sliver of sky that I can see through the break between the two pieces of fabric curtains and I grab my phone and walk back into the bathroom.

  I’m ready for this feeling of someone watching me to just go away.

  “I’ll be honest and say I couldn’t help but think of that kid I saw talking with your sister — the one I told Dan about?”

  I put the phone down on the counter so I can throw on my clothes and rub overnight serum on my face. Once I’m done, I pick up my phone and walk back into the main area. I collapse onto the bed, wiggling under the covers. I sigh in satisfaction.

  Jasper chuckles.

  “Lavender? You okay?”

  I blush, and am immediately grateful he can’t see me. “Uh yeah. Sorry. I just crawled into bed and the sheets felt divine. I’m listening.”

  He makes a clucking noise with his tongue and I’m left to wonder what he’s thinking, because he continues talking about the blog. My mind can’t help but make up stories. At the mention of me in bed, did he have to focus his thoughts on the conversation too? Is what I’m feeling sleep deprivation or trauma bonding or legitimate chemistry?

  Or all of the above?

  I blink and focus back on what he’s saying.

  “I just wish I knew who the kid was, because I didn’t get a good look at him. Outside of a few students, we don’t have a lot of overlap between our classes. He didn’t feel familiar to me.”

  “It just seems like such a stretch.”

  “What does?”

  “All of it. It seems like everything connects, but….it just doesn’t seem possible.”

  I twist my lips, thinking.

  “It just seems like someone would have found this already, you know? With all of the cases out there of teachers falling in love with students, a blog like this would have to gain attention, right?”

  “What if he didn’t want anyone to find it until he was ready? It doesn’t take much to set one of these blogs to private. Maybe he didn’t meant for anyone to find it until now.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  Jasper stifles a yawn. “Why does anyone do anything? Don’t we just need a motive? If you read these posts, you see his obsession growing over the course of the year. It makes sense that maybe he’s also wanting that notoriety, too. He wants to be known as the person who thought of this — who managed to take your sister. In his mind, they’re meant to be together.”

  I frown. “You think so? If we take a step back and think about this logically, we’re talking about a high schooler here. They’re not capable of something like this….right?”

  Jasper’s quiet for a moment.

  “You mean like could a teenage boy take your sister and be smart enough to rig her house with surveillance equipment so he could start watching you?”

  I stare at the ceiling, a chill running down my spine.

  “Yeah.”

  “Wasn’t there a TV show once where a high school girl did some pretty crazy shit to her friends? Hacked into phones and sent random text messages?”

  I laugh, despite the situation.

  “If we’re thinking of the same show, you have a point.”

  “Basically, I think anyone is capable of anything given the right situation.”

  I rub at the space in between my eyebrows and then stop for a moment, remembering. My mom always told me when I did this it was my third eye trying to get my attention. I always told her it was because I was stressed.

  I still don’t know which one it is, but I can’t help but continue worry at it, my fingers pressing indentations into my skin. I close my eyes against the fear that’s rooting at me.

  He hears my silence and recognizes the uncertainty.

  “Did you talk to Dan about this?”

  I snort, the derision evident.

  He catches my hesitancy.

  “Don’t you think this is something we should share?”

  “The last thing I want is him having eyes on this and thinking my sister had anything to do with one of her students. His mind already went there, Jasper.”

  “I know. I just wanted to be sure.”

  “It’s only you and Simon who know.”

  “Have you heard from him?”

  “No.”

  I hear his sheets rub together as he adjusts himself again. I bite my lip against the mental image and squeeze my eyes shut. Worst timing ever for any type of attraction.

  He clears his throat.

  “Listen. I don’t know if this will work, but I know someone who might be able to help. He’s a friend from college who’s involved in cyber-security. I can see if he can figure out if there’s any tracing or badges that point us to who could be writing these posts.”

  I drop my hand.

  “That would be amazing, Jasper. Thank you.”

  “Of course. I’ll uh…I’ll text him tomorrow though.” He pauses. “Or today. Later today. I’m so exhausted I don’t even know what day it is….”

  “It’s Thursday,” I respond.

  “Ah. Yes. I remember now. This week has…completely disappeared.”

  “Along with Juniper?” I respond.

  He grows silent, realizing his choice of words, and I reach over to turn off the lamp on the nightstand. I can’t even keep my eyes open, and I know he’s exhausted, but my brain just won’t shut off.

  “I think what freaks me out about this whole thing is that we just have no idea.” I struggle for breath, “I have no idea what really happened to Juniper and who could be writing these notes. It’s maddening. I’ve never felt so unhinged.”

  Jasper sighs. “It can be terrifying when your enemy is faceless.”

  I don’t even have the bandwidth to think about the truth of this statement. Despite the thoughts scrambling around inside, I feel my eyes grow heavy with sleep.

  “It’s late. You’re talking like an English teacher now.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “Riddles,” I respond, my voice barely above a whisper.

  “You need sleep,” he whispers back.

  And that’s the last thing I hear before falling all the way down.

  13

  I’m in the shower when Simon calls me back. It scares the shit out of me. The steam is so dense that I stumble and nearly crack my skull open on the corner of the marble sink.

  Despite me nearly pulling every muscle in my body reaching for my phone, I still miss his call. I tap the corner of the phone on my forehead and wait for my heart to slow down. I think some small part of me still believes that Juniper is just going to up and call me out of the blue.

  “Hey, sis. Sorry I’ve been out of pocket. It’s actually a crazy story….”

  If only.

  I stand dripping on the lone rug listening to his voicemail. It takes less than three seconds to remember all over again why I never liked him.

  His
message is short. Basically, no he didn’t know Juniper was missing, why didn’t I call him before, whinewhinewhine can I just call him back whinewhinewhine.

  I curl my lip and make a face in the mirror. Yikes. Juniper told me a lot of things about Simon, but she never mentioned how deep his need for validation went. Never mind that we have no idea where she is right now. She clearly dodged a bullet with this guy.

  I know I need to call him back, but it can wait. Instead, I return to the shower, enjoying the way the water feels cascading down my back. I’m exhausted. I got maybe three hours of sleep? I vaguely remember getting off the phone with Jasper around 5am. It was early enough that the first light of morning was starting to peek through the curtains. So even though I spent a good bit in a bath last night, I made the decision to tame the atrocity that was my hair and attempt to wake myself up with a shower.

  I reach for the shampoo and massage it into my scalp, allowing the sensation to ease the tension I feel — the exhaustion rooting itself in my bones. I know I need to rest. I know this type of living isn’t sustainable, but I haven’t rested in years. Why start now? Every time I close my eyes I see Juniper being stalked by some lone figure in the darkness.

  How did I not know something was wrong? How did I miss it?

  I shake my head, refusing to let myself follow that train of thought. Instead, I run through everything I know so far. Everything is running together now: the drive to Juniper’s, meeting Jasper, seeing her school for the first time…

  …finding out someone was watching me, too.

  Chills erupt on my skin. This week has been one big nightmare. Everything has been one big shit show. Well. Maybe not everything. My mind moves to Jasper. Something flutters at the bottom of my ribcage and I roll my neck in embarrassment.

  This can’t be happening.

  The thing is, it is happening. I know this like I know the all of the true and right things in the world. As much as I fought those first inklings of attraction, they only came back stronger the more I saw him. And well, we’ve seen each other a lot these past few days.

  Our conversation this morning was the most natural conversation I’ve had in a while. Even though we were fighting lack of sleep and talking about Juniper and trying to parse language on a website written by a high schooler, we bounced off each other organically — the awkwardness and frustration from the car ride earlier in the night vanishing.

  I rest my forehead against the wall and let the steam billow around me. This is ridiculous. It’s so easy to blame all of the nervous tension on finding Juniper. But that wasn’t the entire reason I was nervous, though. If I was being honest with myself, and I’d been trying to do more of that here lately, I would admit that a huge chunk of that nervousness and terror was that I was somehow falling for one of my sister’s closest friends.

  What the fuck, Lavender.

  I push back from the wall and push my fists into my eyes. No amount of denial was going to stop me from seeing what was right in front of me: there was chemistry between Jasper and me. And I had no idea what to do about it.

  I lean over and turn off the water and stand there for a moment before grabbing the towel and wrapping it around my hair. Lifting the robe off its hook, I sink into the thick cotton and appreciate the lushness of fabric and how it feels against my skin. I open the bathroom door, tendrils of steam flowing into the main room as a rush of cool air moves its way through the heat of my makeshift sauna. I grab the towel soaking up excess water in my hair and slowly unwrap it, watching my curls cascade around my face.

  Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I pause. It’s amazing how stress reads itself on your body. My face is blotchy, most likely from the heat of the shower but also probably because I’ve drank maybe 12 ounces of water in the last 48 hours. I have to physically work to relax my shoulders so they’re not inches from my ears. My eyes are still swollen from all of the crying last night.

  I sigh. I know it doesn’t matter, not really, but I need to at least feel a little more put together. I decide to go with a hair spray promising beachy waves, moisturizer, and mascara. I use the complimentary full-size samples and think about another moment in time where this would feel luxurious and not like I was delaying the inevitable or wasting time thinking about a man I wasn’t entirely sure mattered.

  The truth is this: I know grief. I know how it plays tricks on your memory or what you feel is important. How suddenly, you can’t remember exactly how the person laughed — was it a quiet melody with the face scrunched in glee? Or was it full-eyed, open-mouthed joy? Everything about them fades except for the dull ache of their absence and I would be lying if I didn’t acknowledge my mind was already trying to do this with Juniper.

  Despite me knowing she was still alive, the only thing I’ve been able to focus on was the constant refrain of she’s gone. She’s gone. She’s gone.

  Which makes me feel very much alone.

  I breathe deeply, pushing the thought away as I purse my lips and lean into the mirror for one last look before walking out to the bedroom. I tighten my robe and glance at my suitcase. Do I want to get dressed now?

  I haphazardly pilfer through what I tossed into the bag before settling on a peach crop top and jeans. I feel my throat tighten and I collapse onto the bed. Wiping my nose, I wonder how anyone can manage to do anything after experiencing something traumatic. I’m useless. I stare at my clothes in a pile next to me and finally curl back under the covers, opting for comfort rather than efficiency. It doesn’t last long. My phone vibrates and I look at the screen. It’s Dan.

  “Hello?”

  “Lavender, please tell me you didn’t go to the media about your sister.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  He clears his throat, frustrated.

  “I’m watching a report right now about your sister. Please tell me you didn’t say something.”

  I turn on the TV and startle when I see Juniper’s picture staring back at me.

  He’s right. Her disappearance is on the local news.

  I feel my insides turn topsy-turvy because while this is good, and while it means that movement is happening, it also means it’s real.

  “Dan, I had nothing to do with this.”

  The other end of the line grows quiet and I twist my lips, suddenly nervous.

  “Hello?”

  “Would Jasper?”

  I blink in surprise.

  “I honestly have no fucking idea but I wouldn’t see what he would have to gain in breaking a story. This isn’t TMZ, Dan. It’s the local news.”

  He sighs.

  “Yeah but if it wasn’t you — and it wasn’t Jasper — then it’s either someone else wanting to be a makeshift vigilante on missing persons or it’s him. And if it’s him, he’s moved to another stage of wanting notoriety.”

  It’s my turn to be speechless.

  “He’d scoop his own crime?”

  “They do it all the time. Proof they’re operating on a failed sense of justice and a severe need of validation.”

  “Unbelievable,” I whisper.

  “Just do me a favor,” he says, his voice strained. “Stay close. Don’t travel too far. And definitely don’t go anywhere alone. He did this for a reason, and he’s most likely got a plan for his next steps.”

  A chill runs over me and I nod before realizing he can’t hear me. Without thinking, I start telling him about the website.

  “Hey, Dan. I - I found something last night.”

  He’s quiet for a moment and I can’t tell if he’s frustrated about me digging into Juniper’s disappearance or waiting for me to continue.

  “It’s a website. Um. A blog? It’s by a student of Juniper’s and honestly, it’s creepy as hell.”

  “Tell me more.”

  “Can I send you the link? I think it would be better if you just read it for yourself.”

  He sniffs and I can hear a wrapper in the background — as if he is juggling talking to me and breakfast.

  “Send
it over.”

  “Sure. Of course. Just…keep me updated.”

  He hangs up without saying goodbye and I’m left watching the end of the segment, curious at the details they chose to include. I see her picture pop on to the screen again before b-roll footage of the front of Sacred Heart. That’s when it hits me all over again.

  Juniper is really gone.

  I shake my head, forcing the mantra out of its loop, and focus on something else - like the fact that I’m still in my robe. I reach for my clothes, deciding that comfort will obviously have to wait. I unravel my robe and shiver against the cool morning air. I dress quickly and then sit on the edge of the bed, waiting.

  I don’t know what I’m waiting for, though.

  My throat clenches again and I push my fists into my eyes.

  I will not cry, I think, threatening my tear ducts with violence and runny mascara. I blink rapidly, pushing back the tears, and grab my phone.

  Desperate times call for desperate measures. I bump my to-do list and hesitate for just a second before pulling up my contacts list.

  Calling Simon should help. He never did anything except bore me.

  As predicted, he answers on the first ring.

  “Were you…were you holding the phone waiting for my call?” I ask as a greeting.

  “Well hello to you too, Lavender. Long time no talk.” Simon’s voice is clipped. I’ve never gotten used to his accent: a mixture of Long Island and old money. Right now, though, he’s just annoyed. It’s clear my lack of communication has struck a nerve. I yawn and wave my hand in front of me in a dismissive gesture even though he can’t see.

  “The pleasure is all yours, Simon.” I pause for a beat before launching into the whole reason I was voluntarily talking to him.

  “Listen. I know in your message you mentioned you didn’t know Juniper was missing. When was the last time y’all spoke?”

  Simon clears his throat. “That would uh….that would be when she broke up with me. It was a few days ago, actually. I hadn’t tried contacting her or anything since then. I was….trying to give her space.”

  The change in his usually confident timber startles me silent for a moment. Everything I’ve ever heard about Simon is that he loved being in control. His insistence on taking care of Juniper in his own way was a muzzle. She would consistently complain about how he would order for her at restaurants before she got there if she were running late or would assume she didn’t know how to handle an oil change on her car and would swap vehicles in the middle of the day so he could get it done. I always thought his bravado came from veins of arrogance. Talking to him now? It seemed as if it came from somewhere else.