by Lisa Acerbo
“You don’t look fine. What’s up?”
“It’s a long story about an ex-boyfriend. I’m sure you don’t want to hear it.” Our pace on the sidewalk is brisk, making my words breathy.
“I told you all about my divorce when you were stuck next to me on the plane. Go for it.”
I tilt my head, considering where to begin. “I dated this guy named Jace my junior year of college. It started normal. He was super sweet and attentive. There were lots of presents and flowers, but things got weird pretty quick.” I peer at Geany to see if she really wants me to keep telling my tale of relationship travesty.
She nods. “Weird how?”
“Attentive turned into possessive. What started out as texting him because I wanted to became texting him before each and every class to let him know where I was and who I was with.”
“Yikes.”
“At first, I loved all the time he spent with me, but slowly, I realized that he didn’t like me hanging out with my friends anymore. That it was Jace or nothing. And he picked everything. What I ate, what I wore, how I styled my hair.”
“He sounds like a first-rate douchebag.”
I let out a sad laugh. “He was. One day, I went to the grocery store and forgot to text him. When I got to his apartment, we argued, and it escalated. He took one of the stupid, colorful scarves he likes to wear and put it around my neck.” Telling the story brought back all the painful memories. They still hurt, but I had worked through them with Sandra. I’d never put myself in a similar situation. “He tried to choke me, but I broke free and ran out of his apartment. I never went back. He promised me he’d get help, and we could work on it. He promised if I came back, it would never happen again, but I knew he was lying. He wouldn’t let it go for a long time.”
We enter the lobby of Primus Medical Main.
“Smart girl, getting out,” Geany says. She gives me an awkward pat on the shoulder. “Onto the meeting.”
It’s hard to concentrate on the client’s feedback that Scott shares. In a nutshell, they liked the meeting (woot woot), but want changes (boo). I spend my energy peeking at Peter, taking in his tall frame, broad shoulders, brown hair that flops over one eye, and cream-colored button-down shirt. His tie stands out against the bland background, characters from Winnie the Pooh frolic on it. He’s a tasty drink of water on a blistering hot summer day, and I allow myself to daydream about what he might smell like up close. When he catches my gaze, he grimaces as if he had just sampled some bad sushi.
Shot down before the plane ever left the ground. Lovely. It was only a daydream, for heaven’s sake. Bored, I focus on Alan for most of the next two yawn-stifling hours. I start a new mantra: Do not date coworkers.
The client, obviously not all that bright, likes Maddie’s work, so I’m paired up with her again to plan and conduct the next two meetings, first in Chicago and then Philadelphia. The only good news is that Peter, the new junior Account Executive, will be attending both. I bounce out of the conference room like the image of Tigger on Peter’s tie, ready to start working. I catch Maddie lingering, talking to Peter.
Back at my desk, I cannot help but keep an eye on the door, wondering how long it will be before Maddie returns. The minutes dribble by, and I fret. I rationale that if Peter is attracted to someone like Maddie, then he is a waste of time. When lunch rolls around, I corner Samantha and force her to go out. I need a friendly face, someone who makes me smile.
* * * *
Wednesday, as I prepare for a busy work day, I’m pleasantly surprised. For once, my hair curls instead of frizzes, and my long green skirt remains wrinkle-free, hugging my slim hips. I’m tasked today to help with a new continuing medical education project. Upon arrival, I head over to the editorial department. My good mood doesn’t last long when Peter enters the room and immediately throws me a frown. I don’t remember why I thought he was hot.
Cayden Andrews, a physician from New York, comes into the office to discuss recording a podcast of his presentation for doctors who are unable to make the meetings. He’s one of the younger doctors I’ve worked with, late thirties, sandy blond hair, and eyes so light, they remind me of a blue sky fading to white. And Peter is right on him, smiling, offering to get him bottled water, even going so far as to flirt. Quickly, I realize he is batting for the other team.
My life makes so much more sense now. My direction with men has always been so far off. I head for the beach and end up on a snowy mountain.
#coworkers
* * * *
It’s late Saturday morning, and cartoon characters scream from the television. I’m not traveling, not in the office, not doing anything other than hanging out in my comfy plaid pajama pants and oversized pink top in my brand-new place. The coffee machine has spit out the first of many cups, and I’m settled in on the couch, Every Exquisite Thing by Matthew Quick in hand to read.
I survey the room, happy. The brown couch is a hand-me-down, giving my mom an excuse to redecorate. I bought the gray futon online. The television sits on shelves that Kyle helped me put together. There is room for my books, pictures, and a few knick-knacks. There are two large paintings, one of a cow head and one of a horse head, both done in bright, primary colors, a gift from Tanya.
The doorbell rings. I’m confused and consider ignoring it. Even though movies flash through my mind, the kind where a nice person lets a stranger in to use the phone and ends up dead, I still get up. Most likely, it’s UPS. I squint through the peep hole, but that only increases my confusion.
I open the door. “Hi, Rickey,” I say, wondering how my ex-lab partner knew where I lived. “What are you doing here?”
“I came with a housewarming gift.” He holds out a dozen red roses and a bottle of red wine.”
“Thank you.” I don’t want to invite him in, but it would be rude not to. “Come in.” I step back for him to enter.
“Thanks.”
I don’t remember ever sharing my new address with him. I haven’t seen Rickey since our last class together, which ended a week before graduation. “How’d you find out where I live?”
“I met up with Tanya. She told me,” he says.
“You know Tanya?” I ask.
“Yup.” He scans the room slowly, analyzing each and every detail. “Nice digs. I like the paintings.”
He’s wearing another comic book shirt, but this one has a grotesque villain with the name Doomsday scrawled under it. I’ve never realized how tall he was. Standing next to me, he towers over my tall frame. He’s not bulky, but his T-shirt displays wiry muscles in his arms. His bangs are spiked up instead of down over his forehead. He’s also ditched the oversized glasses, and, without them, his face instantly matures.
“Thanks.” I’m not sure what else to say as I take the flowers and wine. It’s not like we were close friends, just lab partners for class. “I’ll put these in water.” At least it gives me an excuse to head to my galley kitchen.
Rickey sits on the couch, and I let out a small sigh. He’s obviously not leaving. This morning is not going as expected. All I want is a little time to myself with a good book.
“We should open the wine,” he says from his perch on the couch.
“It’s not even eleven yet. Too early for me. How about coffee?” I wonder if that sounds rude since he brought over the wine. “Or I can open it and pour you a glass.”
“I’ll take coffee if that is what you are drinking.” He smiles at me. Something about it feels off. It doesn’t sit on his face naturally.
The situation is making me nervous. It’s not like I often have strange men in my home. Maybe I’m being paranoid about Rickey. He’s always been nice to me in lab and class. Paranoia? Maybe, but I find it odd that he befriended Tanya and neither of them said anything, and that he’s shown up uninvited. I’m probably overreacting to the situation. After all, it is what I do.
I drive aside the fear as I thrust down the blue button on the coffee machine. It gurgles to life. I attempt small talk
.
“What are you doing now?” I ask.
“I still have some classes to take.” He stares at me over the back of the couch.
I vaguely remember him telling me something about it. “When will you graduate?”
“I returned to school late. I’m still playing catch up,” he says. “I’ll graduate when I graduate. There’s a lot happening at school that I like.”
“What did you do before?” I can’t remember if he shared that bit of information.
“College wasn’t my thing right after high school. I worked for a few years but found out real quick that people don’t care how smart you are or what you can do. All they want is to see a degree, so I came back to get one.”
“I didn’t know that.” I stare.
Rickey acts young, but he must be in his mid to late twenties. Maybe it’s all the comic book shirts that made me think of him as a kid. I serve him the coffee, making another trip with milk and sugar.
“I don’t know how you like it.”
“Thanks.” He pours a couple sugar packets into the mug. He can’t focus and keeps glancing at the front door, the windows, the bedroom door.
I take a seat on the futon across from him. It puts distance between us, which levels out some of my freaked-out nerves.
“So what classes are you taking now?” I attempt to keep up steady conversation.
“Nothing exciting.” Rickey takes a sip of coffee. “You’re so far away. You should come here so we can learn more about each other.” He pats the couch.
“I’m good.” This is more than my paranoia. He’s being creepy. Why had I not seen it before? After all, he was my lab partner.
Rickey stares at me, making it obvious that he’s making an assessment. His unblinking eyes linger on my breasts, and I realize I’m not wearing a bra. I feel naked and exposed, and my arms come up to crisscross my chest.
He laughs at me. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about a couple things.”
“Okay. Why don’t we make a date for dinner?” I need to get him out of my place. Right now. I can always cancel the dinner date later.
“No, let’s talk now,” he says. “It’s about us. You and me. I don’t want anyone else to overhear or even know about it.”
My body heats up, prickly with fear. “What do we need to talk about?”
“You’ve played me.” His eyes narrow like steel rods and harden.
“Excuse me?” The hair on my arms rise. “What have I done?”
Rickey stares at my face and then his gaze drops to my breasts. “It’s kind of like this, Dani.” He emphasizes my name before his eyes find mine and he continues. “It looks to me like you’ve been whoring yourself out. It’s my chance to get a piece of the action. There was Jeremy, Shami, Kyle, and I’m sure numerous others. What about me? You fuck everyone else on campus, and yet you ignore your faithful lab partner and friend.”
I’m helpless. “How do you know about them?” It’s no more than a whisper. It’s a stupid time to ask the question, but I do it anyway. “The notes. They were from you?” I stand up, tempted to run.
“Yup. You’re not so smart for a straight-A student. Your entire life is online. It’s so easy to find out the details of your whoring around. You post everything you do. Your nights out with Tanya and Kyle, your outings in the woods with that stupid dog of yours at home with your mom. Your favorite foods, restaurants, coffee shops. You live online, slut.”
“I’m not like that.” Terror makes me beg. “You know it’s not true. I’ve never slept with any of them. You’ve misunderstood. Stop judging me. Just leave now, and we can forget all of this.” I try to sound strong, but my voice breaks.
“Save it.” He stands, and his face transforms into a mask of rage and hatred. He skulks closer. “This would have happened a lot sooner, but that idiot Kyle stepped in once again to save you. Remember the party you and Tanya threw?”
“The night someone drugged me?”
His laugh is deep and dark. “It was so easy to steal Ketamine from the Animal Science labs after I befriended Professor Battley. I offered to help him reorganize, and he took me up on the offer.”
“You stole Ketamine?” It’s stupid to stand there and ask, but my mind spirals back to the night I was out in the woods with a stranger.
“Yup. Ketamine works as analgesic in rats, but in high doses, it is a hallucinogenic. It gets you high, and you can have an out-of-body experience. It also makes it hard for a person to run away.” He pauses, his mind shifts to the past. “I hope you had fun that night, even if it wasn’t with me.” His smile causes another flight of chills up my back. “We wouldn’t need that tonight.”
Instinct takes over. I run to the bathroom, hoping to lock the door behind me.
His hand grabs my shoulder. It yanks me back, and I stumble. I attempt to run again, but Rickey grabs my flapping arm and twists me around like a carousel.
Pain courses through my skull as my head hits the ground. Sparks and stars. My eyes tear. Before I can bolt, his weight is upon me; it’s smothering.
“Stop.” I whimper. “Help!” It’s stronger, a scream.
His hand covers my mouth. I suffocate under it. His other hand captures one of my wrists above my head. I strike him with the other fist, but Rickey doesn’t react to the sting of my nails. I thrash my head back and forth, but it does nothing to stop him.
His hand releases my mouth, and I scream out again. Loud, as loud as I can. He grabs both my wrists and joins them above my head, held in a single, large hand. His other hand palms my cheek so hard, I taste the warm, metallic blood in my mouth from where my teeth hit against it.
“Stop screaming,” he warns me. “You’ll just make this worse for yourself.”
“Let go,” I beg. “I won’t tell anyone.”
Rickey laughs. “You think you’re the first, bitch? People lie. You’ll tell. So sorry, no can do. After what I have planned, you’ll never be able to tell anyone anything.” His slimy touch travels under my T-shirt to my breast. He pinches my nipple, sending a ripple of pain throughout my body. “You have no idea what’s coming.” His mouth, tasting of coffee, clamps over mine. His tongue gags me. His free hand tears at my pajama bottoms.
“Stop, please,” I beg as his mouth releases mine.
“Shut up. You’ll enjoy it.” He bites my shoulder, and I squeal in terror and pain.
I can’t let him rape me. I knee him in the groin as hard as I can with one leg fully trapped under his. He groans. It’s enough for him to loosen his hold for a few seconds. I wriggle out from under him and rise to my knees. Up, my brain screams. I run to the bedroom. I get inside and lock the door.
“Come out, bitch.” He bangs on the door. “You had this coming to you for a long time.”
I’m sobbing as I reach for my phone. It’s charging by my bed on the night stand. “I’m calling 911.” I don’t know if he can understand the words, I’m crying so hard.
The noise of his body ramming the door makes me drop the phone. I scramble to retrieve it off the floor. I hit 9 -1-1.
“I need help at 33 Pinto Lane. There’s a guy in my condo. He’s trying to rape me!” I scream into the phone. In the other room, silence takes over.
#stalker
* * * *
I dial Kyle after I hang up from 911. I’m pretty sure Rickey has left, but I can’t leave my locked bedroom and can’t stop the tears.
“Come over,” I say as soon as he answers.
He must hear something in my voice that scares him. “Dani, what’s wrong?”
“Just get here. Right now.”
And he does, no questions asked.
Kyle comes. He lets himself in, knowing where the spare key is. After listening to me tell the story through the locked bedroom door, he talks me out of the room. A long, unpleasant day unravels before me. The police question me and begin the search for Rickey, who has vanished. My mom’s reaction is so much worse, first on the phone and then in person. She drives to my
place in record time, getting there by the early afternoon, and it takes every last ounce of my strength to get her to leave in the evening.
“I should stay with you,” she repeats for the hundredth time. Snuggles has come out of hiding and winds round her feet.
“I’m fine.”
Kyle is sitting at my side on the couch.
“You’re never fine when you say you are fine.” Mom’s voice mixes concern with parental condemnation.
I shake my head. “I will triple lock the door and not let anyone in, no matter what.”
“I can stay.” Kyle surprises me with the statement.
“Okay.” I shock myself and my mom.
“My place is around the corner. I’ll grab some stuff and camp out on the couch.”
I gaze at my mom with watery eyes. Part of me wants to be alone to cope, but I’m too scared Rickey might try to find me again. Kyle’s presence is better than my mom, who keeps recounting the situation and making me more anxious than I am already.
“Is that okay?” I ask her.
She acquiesces reluctantly. After all, he is my best friend. Kyle leaves to gather the essentials. He returns quickly, but it takes another hour to get my mom to depart. When she does, it’s eight at night. I’m exhausted.
“I’m going to bed,” I say.
“I’ll get comfy on the couch. Watch a little television.”
I don’t want to be alone. “Stay with me,” I beg.
He’s my best friend. Of course, he agrees.
Lying in bed, we talk for a while about silly things, fun memories that make me relax and remember that my life is good. Rickey cannot steal that. I am stronger now. I didn’t break down. Even when I had to re-tell every terrifying moment to the cops and report that he admitted to doping me with Ketamine at our party, I stayed in control of myself, no hysterics or paranoia. When Kyle reminds me of that, I’m a little bit proud.
And we know who has been stalking me now. I can do something about the situation. The police will catch him.
