by Amy Reece
—I’m okay, guys. I just had a scare.
—Where are you? Rémy asked. I can be there in a few minutes.
—No. Stay home. I’m fine. Really. I’ll be home before you could get here. I’m not far. Please, Rémy.
—All right. I’ll meet you at your house. Are you at home, Mina, or are you out on yet another date? He directed the last bit to my roommate, who had broken up with Alex, only to find herself being asked out regularly by other guys.
—I’ll have some hot tea waiting for you, Ally. Be safe. I noticed that she didn’t even bother to respond to Rémy.
He was waiting for me in the driveway as I pulled in. I threw myself into his arms, needing to be comforted after my scare. “God, Rémy! When is this going to be over?”
“Soon, chérie, soon. Let’s get you inside. Mina has tea for you.”
I refused to let anyone call Jack; he had been falling asleep on the couch when I left and I knew he would rush over even though there was absolutely no reason. Mat was still at my house and I made him swear not to tell Jack when he got home later. I would call him in the morning and probably have to suffer through him yelling at me for not calling him immediately. Rémy made me go back over the whole event in minute detail as he paced back and forth across the kitchen floor.
“That’s all I remember! I was seriously freaked out at the time and didn’t manage to get a license plate number! Sorry!”
“Rémy.” Mina put her hand on his arm, stilling him. “Come sit down, please.” He stared at her hand resting on his arm and I swear I could hear him gulp. He came and sat beside me.
“Sorry,” he said. “Things are developing, Ally. I have a feeling this will be over soon.”
“What does that mean? The visions I keep getting are terrifying, full of blood and darkness! I’m afraid of how this is going to turn out, Rémy! I’m so scared!”
***
I called Brian as soon as I calmed down. He volunteered to come over, but said there was little the police could do since I hadn’t seen the license plate. I told him to stay home; there was no need for everyone to rush over when there was nothing to be done. It seemed like the stalker knew exactly what he—I assumed it was a he—could do to stay off police radar and yet still drive me slowly crazy.
As predicted, Jack went crazy when he found out and yelled at me over the phone for a full two minutes. I let him vent, knowing he was simply scared for me.
“I can’t believe you didn’t call me! I should have been the first one you called, but NO! You called Rémy! Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”
“Jack, I’m sorry! I didn’t call Rémy. He just knew.” I cringed as I admitted this, knowing Jack still had some major jealousy issues because of the mental connection Rémy and I shared. “Mina knew too. I didn’t call anyone. I wasn’t going to…”
“You weren’t going to call anyone? Why the hell not? You were run off the road, Ally! You should have called the police immediately!”
“I did call Brian when I got home, but there was nothing he could do.” I pulled the phone away from my ear as he began yelling in Spanish, mostly curse words.
“Ally?” He finally calmed down after a few minutes. “Are you still there? I’m sorry, querida. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. It’s not your fault. I just…”
“I know, Jack. It’s okay. I don’t mind you yelling. You were so tired last night and there was nothing you could do.”
“I could hold you! I need to be there for you when stuff like this happens!”
“Well, sometimes I need to take care of you, Jack. With all this craziness, sometimes I need to be the one taking care of someone else.”
He sighed. “Okay, okay. Just please call me next time. Please, Ally?”
“Yeah, I will. Do you still want to meet for lunch?”
“Jesus, Ally, of course I still want to meet. I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at this whole situation.” He muttered another curse under his breath. “You’re still going to the clinic today, right?”
“Yeah, right after my last class. And yes, I will call you as soon as I get done. I promise.”
***
I don’t know what I expected from my visit to the clinic, but it certainly wasn’t the barrage of tests that were ordered: an abdominal X-ray, an MRI, and a complete blood panel. The first test they did, right in the clinic, was a pregnancy test, although I told them it would be an immaculate conception if I was. Sheesh, you’d think they would have a better sense of humor working on a college campus. They then sent me directly over to the university hospital for the other tests; I guess that’s one of the advantages of attending a tier-1 research university with a medical school and teaching hospital. Several hours later, I found myself back with the doctor, who gave me instructions and prescriptions for irritable bowel syndrome—gross—and gastro-esophageal reflux disease, thought to be exacerbated by stress. The doctor gave me a list of foods to avoid and told me to eat small, frequent meals. He was most concerned about my weight loss and prescribed some Ensure shakes. When he asked what I was doing to manage my stress, I almost laughed uncontrollably, but held it in for fear he would send me straight to therapy. I would love to visit with a therapist about everything that was going on, but somehow I didn’t think talk of prophecies and Seers would go over too well. He recommended I try yoga.
Jack waited for me at home, keeping Mina company while she cooked. She had put him to work chopping vegetables. I apprised them of everything the doctor told me. “So, you’re going to be okay?” he asked as he put down the knife and wiped his hands. “If you do all that stuff, you’ll be okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just something I have to learn how to manage. Small meals, cancer patient shakes, and the little purple pill are part of my foreseeable future. Oh, and stress management. I told the doctor I’d get right on that.”
He pulled me into his arms, squeezing me tightly. “Oh, thank God. We can handle all that. Well, the stress may be a challenge, but we can do the rest.” He insisted on going to the grocery store to pick up the Ensure, Prilosec, and the prescription that had been called in. “It will help me feel useful,” he said. “Oh, call your mom and grandma,” he said as he ducked out the door.
What a rat! Leaving me to deal with my family while he escaped to the grocery store. Oh, well, better get it over with. I dialed the phone and spent the next half hour reassuring Mom and Grams that I was okay.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“I have bedimmed
The noontide sun, called forth the mutinous winds,
And ’twixt the green sea and the azured vault
Set roaring war.”
—Shakespeare, The Tempest 5.1
My health improved slowly over the next few weeks as I learned what foods and in what amounts I could handle. I tried to ditch the disgusting Ensure drinks—they triggered my gag reflex—as soon as possible, but Jack was a harsh taskmaster, handing me one out of the refrigerator every time he came over. Then he watched me drink it, often withholding kisses until I was finished. I cooperated because I knew he was worried, but the second the scale showed I had regained five pounds, I declared my independence from the shakes and refused to drink any more. I still mourned the loss of chile in my life and was determined to get to the point where I could eat it again. What kind of New Mexican doesn’t eat chile? I signed up for a yoga class three nights a week, and surprisingly, to me, at least, it really helped with the stress management. Nothing in my life had changed: the personal ads were still coming, the roses kept appearing, I still had the nightmares, an occasional vision, and often felt someone following me, but I handled it better now. Jack loved the yoga outfits I wore and I was a huge fan of the fact that he seemed unable to keep his hands from running over interesting parts of my body when I was wearing the tight pants.
A few weeks before the end of the semester, I was enjoying a cup of herbal tea—coffee was another tragic casualty of my stupid stomach issues—with Michael while we hashed out id
eas for our feminist lit class final papers. There was no final exam, thankfully, just a fifteen-page paper. I always prefer a paper to an exam because I feel like I can be sure of getting a good grade if I put the time in, whereas a test is much more in the hands of the professor. Yes, I’m aware of my control issues, thanks.
“So, I’m thinking I’ll do mine on sex and gender roles in advertising,” Michael said. “Or do you think that has been done to death? Ally?”
“Hmm? Oh, sorry, Michael. I thought I heard…” I had heard a laugh that I knew, but one that didn’t fit in this context of the Student Union Building. I stood up and peered over the planter we were sitting behind and looked around until I found what I was looking for: Mat. I would know his laugh anywhere, but what was he doing here, in the middle of the day? He had probably come by to meet Tara, so I started to walk over and say hi. I stopped dead in my tracks when I realized it was indeed Mat, wearing his paramedic uniform and sitting at a table laughing and holding hands with, well, definitely not Tara. Oh, my God! Was Mat cheating on Tara? It certainly appeared so. Why else would he be holding hands and laughing and flirting with another girl? I never in a million years would have thought he would do something like that. Why would he cheat on her? She was absolutely gorgeous and I thought they were doing fine, just last night they were cuddling on the couch while we watched a movie. What should I do? My first impulse was to march over to his table and demand some answers, but making a scene didn’t appeal, especially when I was trying to maintain a low profile in the wake of the personal ads people kept asking me about. So, I turned and walked back to my own table, sinking down into my chair and blindly reaching for my tea.
“Ally? What’s wrong? Who was that? You look…weird,” Michael asked, concern written all over his face.
“I, uh, I don’t really know. No, I’m okay,” I hastened to assure him, “I just, um, I thought I saw someone I know. We probably better get to class.” I stewed about it all day, wondering what on earth I should do. By evening, I was no closer to an answer, yet dreaded going home to face Tara.
She was painting her nails at the kitchen table when I walked in. “What do you think?” she asked, holding her hand up for inspection. “Glitter top coat or just plain?”
“Um, glitter. Yeah.”
“Seriously? You always say plain and I always go with glitter.” She cocked an eyebrow at me.
Crap! That’s right! Was she suspicious? “Just trying to mix it up,” I said and chuckled lamely.
Her eyebrow rose farther. “Are you okay? Shit, did you find another rose? I swear to God, I’m going to—”
“No, no rose. I’m fine. It’s just—”
“Does your stomach hurt? I can get the Mylanta for you.” She started to get up.
“No, Tara. I’m fine. Really.” I tried to slip past her to go change out of my yoga capris.
“Stop.” She put her leg in front of me, blocking the door. “Sit.” I sat, of course. You don’t mess with her. At least I never had. “Spill.”
Crap, crap, crap! “Okay, but you have to promise me you won’t freak out.”
“Oh, I make no promises. You better spit it out, Ally.” Her voice dropped about an octave as she realized she would not like what I had to say.
“I-saw-Mat-in-the-SUB-today-holding-hands-with-another-girl,” I said in a rush, just wanting to get it over with. “I’m so sorry, sweetie.”
“Mat? My Mat?”
I nodded miserably.
Her face hardened into granite; she was not the kind of girl to dissolve into tears. “Oh, he’s the one who’s going to be sorry! I assure you of that!” She dialed her phone as she spoke, but I noticed her hands were trembling. “Shit!” she yelled when she misdialed twice. I took the phone from her without a word, dialed Mat’s number, and handed it back to her.
I heard him answer with a cheerful, “Hey, babe, what’s up?”
“Mateo Jimenez,” her voice was icy, “would you care to explain to me why you were at the SUB today, holding hands with a girl who is not me?” She hung up while I could still hear him talking on his end. “He’s on his way.”
Not a full five minutes later, Jack’s Mustang roared into our driveway. Mat jumped out before the car even came to a complete stop. I held Tara back from confronting him in the front yard, thinking the neighbors didn’t need a show tonight.
“Tara, babe, please let me explain,” he begged, taking her hands in his. It was not a good sign that she flung them away from her in distaste.
“Who is she, Mat? Why would you cheat on me?” I could hear the tears behind her words. “Are you tired of me?” She whispered this last question, choking.
“She’s no one! I’m not cheating on you, Tara! God, I’m gonna kill you, Jack! I knew this would backfire and get me in trouble!” He turned toward Jack, who backed away with his hands in front of him.
“What is going on here? Jack, what do you have to do with this?” I asked, perplexed. Was this more than a simple case of a cheating boyfriend?
“It’s his whole fucking fault!” Mat yelled, running his hands through his hair. “Babe.” He turned back to Tara. “I would never cheat on you. I love you.”
“Somebody better start explaining right now,” Tara growled.
“Okay, okay! Everyone just calm the hell down!” Jack yelled. “All right. Sit down and I’ll try to explain.” We all remained standing, arms crossed, staring at him expectantly. “Okay, fine. He’s right. It’s my fault. That girl is the receptionist at the Daily Lobo. I asked—”
“Forced!” yelled Mat.
“I may have been somewhat insistent that Mat pretend to flirt with her so he could pump her for information about who was placing the personal ads,” Jack explained.
“Oh, my God!” exclaimed Tara.
Ow!” Jack rubbed his arm where Mat punched him. “Sorry. Poor choice of words. He flirted with her to obtain information. That’s what I meant.”
“Did you sleep with her?” demanded my psycho best friend.
“Of course not! God, babe, do you think I’d do that? We had coffee! That’s it!” Mat protested.
“Ally said you were holding her hand!”
Mat turned and glared at me.
“Well, I’m sorry!” I said. “How was I supposed to know you were on some undercover mission for Jack? Wait a minute, why didn’t you do it yourself, Jack?” I rounded on my boyfriend. “Why did you make Mat do the dirty work?”
“Because she had already seen me when I was in there demanding to talk to the editor. And they might have threatened to get a restraining order if I ever entered the building again. And because I couldn’t pull it off. I don’t have any idea how to flirt and be charming. Mat’s always been good at that kind of stuff. I’m sorry, Tara. I didn’t think you’d ever find out. It was a shitty thing to do, but I was desperate to figure out who was placing those ads so I could put a stop to it.” Jack leaned his forearms on his knees and rubbed his hands over his head. I reached over and rubbed his back, knowing he felt bad and realizing he had done it for me. He and Mat both had.
“Did you kiss her?” Tara wasn’t quite ready to let it go.
Mat sighed and got up out of his chair to kneel before her, taking her hands in his and kissing them. “No, I did not kiss her. I don’t even like her. Since the night we went on our first date nearly two years ago, Tara Scott, these lips have kissed only yours. And my grandmother. She always kisses me right on the mouth. I can’t stop her.” She smiled slightly, as if she was trying to hold it back. “I am completely and totally in love with you. I only met that girl for coffee and pretended to flirt with her because Jack made me. He’s going crazy trying to figure those ads out. We were hoping she would tell me who was placing the ads. I’m sorry, Tara.”
She uncrossed her arms and leaned forward to run her hands through his black hair. “I love you, too, Mat Jimenez. I just about died when I thought you were cheating on me.” She leaned forward and kissed him. “But since you were doing it
to help Ally, I guess I can get over it.” He stood up, pulling her into his arms for a full-on make-up kiss.
“So, did she tell him?” I asked Jack while Mat and Tara made up.
Jack shook his head. “No. It was a stupid idea.”
Tara pulled away and smiled up at Mat. “You mean you couldn’t talk her into telling you who was placing the ads? Are you losing your touch?” she teased. “You talked me into going out with you and I had no intention of ever doing that.”
“Well, maybe my heart wasn’t really in this.” He pulled her back in for another kiss.
“Could you, though?” she asked when he let her up for air.
“What?”
“Could you get her to tell you?” Tara asked. “You really are good at wearing people down. If you went out with her again, do you think you could get her to tell you who’s placing the ads?”
Mat looked at Jack and me as if we might have some idea why Tara would suggest something so crazy. We both shrugged. He was on his own with this one.
“Babe, what are you talking about? I’m not going out with her again. Not that I went out with her before! We just had coffee! I swear!”
“I know, Mat, calm down! What I’m asking is, could you get her to tell you if you really tried?” She held his face in her hands. “This could be the break we need in the case!” She still watched way too much CSI. “What?” She looked around at the rest of us. “Just because I know about it, he should stop? That’s crazy! This is our best chance, you guys!”
