by Nem Rowan
“Thanks. That’s really kind of you.” I could hear the smile in his voice.
“I’m an excellent gardener, too,” I said, dropping to a whisper once more. “We’ll cultivate something nice together.”
“An award-winning turnip perhaps?”
I burst out laughing as I rolled onto my back, my jaw hurting with how much I was grinning, and the sound of his own laughter made me cry with hilarity. When our laughter died, I felt exhausted but satisfied.
“I’m glad you called, Tenny,” he spoke offhandedly.
“I’m glad you picked up. Listen, I should probably get some sleep and you should, too. I hope your headache has gone.” I sighed, rubbing the tears of amusement from the corners of my eyes.
“It has, thanks.”
“No worries. Chat soon, okay?” I began to smile again even though he couldn’t see me. I tried to imagine what he looked like right at that moment, a vision of him in his bed, wrapped up in his duvet as he spoke to me on his damaged smart-phone.
“Absolutely. Don’t think about your mother. She’s not worth it,” he reminded me, causing my broad grin to soften into one of fondness.
“I won’t. I’ll think about you, instead,” I breathed, closing my eyes. “I’m gonna go now. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Tenny.”
The call ended and I lay there with my phone still pressed to the side of my head as I dreamed of him being beside me. Maybe someday. I liked him very much, but it was too early for me to say for sure if it was love. It felt like the beginning of it. I didn’t want to jinx it, though. Instead, I listened to the memory of our conversation, recalling the sound of his voice next to my ear as I slowly dozed off.
* * * *
My eyes half-opened at an abrupt sound downstairs. I might have been dreaming, but it sounded like something had been pushed through the letter box. Rubbing at my eyes, I lifted my head and glanced at the clock; it was just gone midnight. Through the crack in the open window, I heard footfalls moving down the front steps, then they quietened as whoever was out there wandered off along the street. I must have been so deep in thought that I hadn’t heard them come to the house, but why would someone be posting something at this time of night?
The steps were cold under my bare feet as I crept down the stairs to the ground floor, clutching my dressing gown closed over my pyjamas. There was a piece of paper lying on the door mat. I paused near the bottom of the steps and stared at it for a moment, waiting to see if anything would happen, but nothing did. I don’t know why I felt so afraid. I held my breath and shuffled onto the floor of the hallway, startling when a breeze rattled the letter box lid. I shuffled closer still, and when I reached the mat, I leaned forward to peer at the A4 sheet. It was a photo printed on glossy paper. My eyes widened when I saw what was in the photo, and a strange mixture of fear, curiosity and disgust caused my whole body to tremble slightly, my hand quivering as I reached to lift it. In the photograph, the name tag that had fallen off of my apron at work was sitting on a wooden tabletop. A small pool of yellow-white liquid surrounded it, further droplets orbiting the puddle and others glistening on the cheap metal badge. I turned over the page, discovering that someone had written “MISSING SOMETHING?” in black marker pen. For several minutes, I just stared at it, my tired brain attempting to make sense of what I was looking at, then the fear began to multiply until it had blown up into terrified revulsion.
I checked the locks on the front door, worried that whoever had put this disgusting picture through my letter box might attempt to break in and harm me, then I ran upstairs to my bedroom and picked up my phone. My first call was to Gerard, but it only went to the answering machine, then Vanessa, but with the same result, and lastly, Growler.
“What is it?” his sleepy voice grumbled.
“Can I stay at yours?” I hissed, my eyes flicking about the room as if I expected someone to jump out at me at any moment.
“Why?”
“I’m creeped out, okay. Someone put a gross photo through my letter box. I’m really scared, I just don’t wanna be here by myself right now. Gerard and Vanessa aren’t answering the phone. Please help.”
Growler yawned and grunted. “Alright. Is it safe for you to get to your car?”
“I think so.”
“Okay, so come on over, then. I’ll wait up for you.”
“Can you stay on the phone with me until I’m in the car?” I asked, clutching the phone to my ear as, one-handedly, began to stuff clean clothes into my backpack.
“Sure.” He grunted again and I heard the sound of his bedsheets rustling as he got comfortable.
I put him on speaker and continued to chat to him as I got myself ready, pulling on my boots but not bothering to change out of my pyjamas. Instead, I put on my leather jacket, and once I had slung my bag onto my back, I double-checked that the house was locked up and continued talking to Growler in a bid to make myself feel less afraid.
“Okay, I’m going outside,” I told him as I opened the front door and peeked out. A taxi cab passed by, momentarily blinding me with its bright headlights, but once it had gone, my eyes soon adjusted to the dimness.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” he replied nonchalantly.
“I can’t see anyone out here,” I whispered as I stepped into the cool night and shut the front door behind me.
“Are you in the car yet?”
“Nearly, hang on.” I crept down the front steps and to my car. When I reached the road, I looked this way and that. Goosebumps pricked all over me and I was scared that a dark figure might appear at any moment. As soon as I had unlocked the car and dived into the driver’s seat, I slammed the door shut and turned the locks. “Okay, I’m in the car,” I reported with a sigh of relief, sounding rather as if I had just crawled through enemy territory towards freedom. “I’ll be with you soon, so don’t fall asleep.
“Alright. See you in a bit,” he said and yawned, then ended the call.
I turned the key in the ignition and the familiar purr of the engine brought a comforted smile to my face; being out of the house and in the mobile safety of the car made me feel much better. I pulled onto the desolate road and roared off.
* * * *
I felt much better by the time I was in the lift going up to Growler’s apartment, and when I got to the landing, I found him waiting for me in his pyjamas. His fractured wrist was encased in plaster and supported by a sling, which was quite amusing, considering how dignified he usually carried himself. His long, fair hair was tied up in a high ponytail with a claw clip and he looked irritable, but the expression on his face soon turned to one of concern when he saw me rushing towards him.
“What happened?” he inquired as I approached.
“Can we talk inside? I don’t wanna piss off your neighbours.” I gestured to the open doorway behind him and he turned to allow me through.
“I don’t care if we piss them off. I wanna know what the hell is going on.” He shut the door behind us and put on the chain.
We were standing in the narrow hallway, lit by the lamp on the telephone cabinet. It was warm, cosy, and dark in here, like a rabbit warren, and I felt much safer to have Growler with me. I followed him along the hall to his broad, open plan kitchen-living room, where the yellow light of his ornamental lamps created a hazy, relaxing atmosphere. I dumped my bag on the red leather Chesterfield sofa and sat beside it so I could remove my boots. Growler put on the kettle and leaned against the kitchen counter, watching with his usual pout while I unzipped my bag and took out the folded photograph.
I held it out for him to take. “Here, this was posted through my door.”
He came forward and accepted it. A minute or so passed and I couldn’t tell what was going on inside his head because his expression didn’t change.
“Someone jizzed on your name tag,” he remarked flatly.
“Well done, Sherlock, you nailed it,” I rolled my eyes at him.
He frowned in return. “I don’t understand
what you’re saying.”
“Someone stole my name tag, and then just after midnight, this got posted to my house. I heard them outside on the front steps. Look on the back, see, they’re taunting me.”
He flipped over the sheet to see the message. “Okay. That’s kind of gross. Are you gonna tell the police?” His baffled frown softened as he handed back the picture.
“I dunno,” I murmured as I put it inside my bag.
“You know what Vanessa would say, right?” He winked, returning to the kettle as the water finished boiling. “You know Queen Vanessa is always right, right?”
“Well, it’s true, she is right. I should probably go to the police but I really could do without this now. I don’t want to be part of a police investigation, and that’s if they would even investigate it. They probably wouldn’t take me seriously.” I rested my chin in my palm and watched as he went about making two cups of tea.
“Hmm,” he replied over his shoulder. “A transsexual who visits BDSM dungeons and gay bars, saying some guy stole his name tag and jizzed on it. Somehow I’ve got a feeling that’s not gonna rouse them from their desks to rush out and catch the perpetrator. To be honest, posting a picture through your door isn’t exactly harassment. Maybe you should wait and see if anything else happens before you report it.”
I sighed and held my head in my hands. “Well, what would you do?”
“What would I do? Well, this is shocking. Since when did you ever want my advice?” He grinned as he poured milk into the teacups and gave them a stir.
“Since you’re the only person awake at this hour to rescue me from being abducted by a creeper.”
“I’m flattered.” He continued to smile as he passed a teacup to me. The sofa creaked as he sat beside me. “Here’s what I’d do. I’d try and figure out who it was, then I’d speak to them directly and tell them if they didn’t leave me the fuck alone, I’d go to the police. If that didn’t work, I’d hire a hitman.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Seriously?”
“Maybe not the last part. But you should definitely try to figure out who it is. I bet it’s that creepy David guy. We all thought he was a weirdo, and that’s unusual coming from Vanessa, considering the kind of losers she takes for clients.” He clasped his teacup in one long, lithe hand. “You saw how he was staring at you the whole time. The guy’s a total creeper.”
“Don’t say that about him, he’s not like that,” I complained disappointedly. David was shy and socially awkward; he wouldn’t do something like that. Why would he go to the trouble anyway? He had my number but he hadn’t even called me to breathe down the line like murderers often did in horror movies.
“A bit funny how all this has started since you met him though, isn’t it?” Growler’s tone was mocking, and I knew he just wanted to single out David because he was the easy target.
“It’s probably just a coincidence. I’ve been talking to David, anyway. I’ve met up with him a couple of times, and he’s very nice. He’s gentle and sweet and I like him. I can’t imagine him doing something gross like this,” I explained, even though I knew Growler wouldn’t agree with me.
He took a sip from his teacup, but chose to say nothing. He didn’t need to say anything. I knew what words would leave his mouth if he opened it.
When we had finished our tea, Growler brought me spare bedding and I put up the fold-out bed in his study, turning it into a cosy nest. He swanned off to his bedroom once he was satisfied that I had made myself at home, and so, once I had closed the door, I slipped into the bed I’d made for myself, feeling much better. At least whoever had done the deed would never find me here. I pulled the duvet up to my chin and picked up my phone, deciding I’d send a text to Vanessa and Gerard to let them know what had happened and that I’d call them in the morning. There were other notifications waiting for me.
CordialSin: Do you prefer men who are confident? I can be confident if that’s what you want.
I wasn’t sure what to say in response, whether he wanted me to be dominating, to lead him on, or whether this was just a conversation. The glow from my phone’s screen lit my fingers in the dark as I tapped out my response.
MasterY: If you’re confident that you can please me, then by all means, be confident.
I didn’t receive an instant reply like I had earlier, probably because he was sleeping now. I wanted to hear David’s voice again. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe to confirm to myself that he wasn’t the person who had posted the disgusting picture through my door. Would he be annoyed that I was phoning him again at one o’clock in the morning? Probably not; he didn’t seem like the sort of guy who would get angry about something like that.
I scrolled through my contact list to his number and pressed the DIAL button. For a while, I lay there in the shadows, listening to the dial tone, and I didn’t expect him to answer, not at this hour, so when, finally, the call clicked and I heard movement on the line, I was surprised and guilty to have woken him.
“Is everything alright, Tenny?” Unlike before, he sounded drowsy and his voice was muffled.
“Yeah—umm, I’m sorry David, I just wanted to hear your voice,” I apologised, feeling even more ashamed that I had rung his number.
“What’s wrong? Are you alright?” He didn’t sound at all frustrated with me; it was I who was frustrated with myself.
“Yeah…yeah, everything’s alright,” I lied.
“Promise?” I heard his bed covers rustling as he shuffled into a different position.
“I couldn’t sleep, that’s all,” I replied, knowing it would be unfair to go on at him at this time of night about what had happened. We could talk another time. “I’m sorry, I should go. I shouldn’t have woken you again.”
“It’s okay,” he assured me light-heartedly. “I’m glad you called me.”
“Are you sure?”
“I guess if you didn’t call anyone else when you couldn’t sleep then…” He trailed off for a second or two. “Then I feel happy because calling me meant you thought I could make you feel better.”
“That’s true,” I agreed. I was already smiling and we’d been on the line only less than a minute.
“Can I ask you something?” he inquired, his voice quietening tentatively.
“Sure, what is it?”
“Well, I was hoping…umm…”
“What? You can ask me.”
“Well, I was wondering if, maybe, if I c-could come and visit you soon?” I imagined he was blushing. Was he trying to be more confident because I wanted him to be? I didn’t expect him to ask me something like this, which by his standards seemed to be quite forward indeed.
“Why don’t you come and visit me tomorrow?” I suggested, keeping my tone neutral for fear of frightening him off by showing my excitement.
“I’d love to—I mean, that’d be great.”
“Okay, then. About midday sound all right? I’ll text you my address in a minute, save you the hassle of writing it down.” I chuckled.
“Yeah, I don’t think I’d be able to find a pen and notepad in this mess, anyway,” he chuckled, too, but it sounded awkward.
“Alright, then, well, I’ll see you tomorrow,” I whispered, and I wondered if he could sense my enthusiasm despite the space that separated us.
“Yes. See you tomorrow. Sleep well,” he whispered back. “Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.” The call ended.
I texted him my address, then locked my phone and sank under the covers once more. Finally, I felt relaxed enough to snooze, and instead of worrying my head with the stalker, happy thoughts of my blossoming friendship with David floated through my brain until, eventually, I fell asleep.
Chapter 5
It was a dreary day, so I lit a fire in the living room to warm the place after arriving home from Growler’s house. I’d checked the house to see if anything was amiss, but it didn’t look as if anyone had broken in and I began to feel as if I was just being paranoid. I made myself an early lunch an
d sat on the sofa, watching a chat show on the television and stuffing my face, and that’s when my phone began to ring. I found Vanessa’s picture on the caller ID, so answered.
“Tenny?” her voice questioned down the line.
“I guess you got my text?” I assumed, putting the television on MUTE so the sound wouldn’t conflict with Vanessa’s voice.
“Yeah, I did, what’s going on?” She sounded slightly worried about me, which wasn’t a surprise. It made me feel cared for.
I explained to her what had happened the night before and how I had stayed with Growler because I was afraid. The rain started to sheet outside, so I pulled the curtains and put on a light, but my mind was elsewhere, imagining David walking here in the rain. I hoped he was alright; perhaps he might have jumped on the bus.
“Did you keep the picture?” Vanessa asked, and I hummed in response. “Okay, don’t chuck it away, because if anything happens, the police will want it. Has anything else happened?”
“No, not besides that guy I saw the other day, the one I told you about. Probably the same person,” I spoke in between mouthfuls of tuna pasta bake.
“Write everything down, including what’s already happened. Keep a diary of it or whatever’s easier for you, and make sure you note the day, the time, what happened, and what the stranger looks like if you see him,” she urged, sounding deadly serious, a tone of voice I knew meant she wasn’t playing around. “If he posts anything or leaves anything for you to find, don’t chuck it out, no matter how gross it is. And if you figure out who the stalker is, don’t engage with him, ya got that? Don’t let him know that you know. If you feel afraid, you gotta tell the police, I don’t care what Growler said to you. This isn’t a joke, okay?”
“Okay,” I agreed, our conversation dampening my mood. I’d expected her to chew my ear off, but I also knew she did it because she cared about me.
