Happy Ever After - Volume 1: A Novel of Horror and Suspense

by Matt Shaw

  * * * * *

  Can’t sleep.

  I wonder what she’s doing. I wonder if she is still getting text messages from her mystery text partner or whether she is just busy frantically texting all the necessary replies back to whoever it was.

  I text her ten minutes ago saying I had had a lovely night and hoped to do it again soon but haven’t heard anything back. When you don’t hear back - it’s always more of an insult when you know, for a fact, they don’t go anywhere without their mobile phone. Ten minutes is ample time for her to read what I said and send me a cheery reply.

  A reply is all that I ask.

  Just something to help me take the general feeling of unease away. Something along the lines of her having had a good night too and was also looking forward to seeing me again.

  Something to make me feel loved.

  The roast is repeating on me.

  7

  “Well I didn’t know he was going to start sending you texts!” said Jackie, not that it made it any better. She knew what sort of person Sam was and I was angry that she’d even get involved. It was none of her business. “Just ignore them, he’ll go away again. I just wanted to annoy him. I promise, ignore him and he’ll vanish back to where-ever he came from.”

  I looked at her.

  She looked at me.

  There was an awkward pause between us.

  “Tell me you didn’t reply.”

  Another awkward pause.

  “Why did you reply?” she continued.

  “Why did you feel the need to say anything in the first instance?” I threw back in her face.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve already told you - I just wanted to get a rise out of him. If anything, I thought he would text me back but I checked my phone all night and nothing. I just presumed he didn’t care. If anything, I was a little disappointed at the lack of a bite.”

  “He kept texting. It wasn’t just one text. It was several throughout the evening. Peter kept looking at me and asking if everything was okay.”

  “You were checking your phone whilst he was with you?”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Do you know how rude that is?” she continued.

  “It could have been important and, truth be told, I thought you might have checked up on me at some point in the evening,” I said. Not actually a lie; I was expecting a message from Jackie checking to see that I was alright. After all, it’s not every day you have a stranger around your house.

  Jackie said, “I didn’t want to interrupt Love’s Young Dream, I thought you’d text me if there were any problems...”

  “I’m sorry Mr Crazy Murderer Psycho, who I invited into my home, would you mind if I just sent my best friend a text before you continue stabbing and raping me?”

  “Oh don’t be so melodramatic - so how did you leave it with him?”

  “Who? Peter? I said that I’d be in touch...”

  “No - how did you leave it with Sam?”

  “I just left it, I turned my phone off.”

  “Oh now you turn your phone off; if you turned your phone off when the date started...”

  I shot Jackie a look - a look that screamed, ‘don’t you dare try and pin this on me’.

  I hadn’t heard from Sam for months and, if it wasn’t for her text, he’d be none the wiser and I still wouldn’t be hearing from him now.

  “Maybe you’re worrying for nothing? He’s probably given up by now. Turn your phone back on.”

  I didn’t move.

  I didn’t want to see the reply that I knew would have been waiting for me.

  My brain was aching and I felt confused as to what I was feeling.

  “Ignoring Samuel... how did it go last night?” asked Jackie; sensing my concern.

  “Last night?”

  * * * * *

  It was a good evening.

  It was a nice evening and, yet, no reply from her.

  Nothing.

  I know she would have read it by now. There is no way she wouldn’t have seen it. So why no reply? Could it be that I have already ruined things between us? No. It WAS a nice evening. I acted interested when she told me of her hobbies. I kept her smiling and laughing with me.

  Unless... she was smiling and laughing at me?

  No.

  She wouldn’t.

  She’s not the sort.

  I know she likes me.

  If not - why would she go to the trouble of cooking such a lovely meal?

  She likes me alright.

  I put the paint brush that I’m holding down on the sheeting I’ve laid in my hallway, to catch any accidental paint spillages whilst I decorate, and walk over to the bannister where I’ve left my mobile phone.

  No paint on my hands. Good. Don’t need to get that on the phone. I touch the screen and it lights up. Good. The battery hasn’t died without me realising it. No. Not good. At least that would have explained the lack of communication.

  Maybe something happened after I left.

  Should I go round there? I could do. I know where she lives now.

  No.

  Don’t go anywhere.

  If everything is okay - I’ll just look clingy.

  Full signal too.

  I open the empty text message section of my phone and dial my own number. ‘Test’ inputted into the message box. Send. The progress bar moves across the small screen almost instantly and my phone shakes in my anxious palm - the message tone alerting me as my own message lands in my inbox.

  Then I’m being ignored.

  For a moment I’m unsure of what to do. Do I need to find a new supermarket to shop at? Avoid seeing her to save myself further pain? No - I’m being silly. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation. I’m sure she left last night with feelings just as strong as my own feelings for her.

  This is destiny.

  This was meant to be.

  Maybe just one more text message.

  One more text message to prove the other wasn’t a fluke.

  Again - the message is almost instantaneous.

  Damn it.

  The thing is, I know this relationship is right. I know it’s meant to be. I know we’re going to make one of the best couples ever. I’m sure of it. I don’t understand why she doesn’t think the same - she can’t think the same.... if she did feel it, she would have sent me a text by now. She would have got in touch. I don’t want to give up on it yet. I should go to the supermarket.

  Of course - the supermarket.

  Maybe she’s working.

  She’s working and can’t send a text. She isn’t allowed to have her phone on her in the working day.

  But she could have sent me a text message last night.

  Unless her phone died. It had been going off all night. Maybe the battery died. She charged the phone but didn’t turn it on until this morning.

  She could have text this morning.

  Unless she was running late.

  Last night was a late one.

  She probably overslept.

  Yes.

  That’s it. She overslept. She read my text message when she woke up and probably smiled. I can picture her smile now. A sweet smile. She would have wanted to reply but obviously couldn’t because of time being short.

  That has to be it.

  She’ll probably text at the end of her shift.

  I can’t help but have a little laugh - she’s probably sat at her checkout now, stressing about not replying to my text message. She’s probably worried that I’m sat here getting angry with her because she hasn’t been able to reply to my text. She’s probably stressing that I’m losing interest in here because I fear she isn’t interested in me. She’s probably desperate to send that text message...

  She’s silly.

  I wouldn’t get stressed at her. I wouldn’t get angry. Not with her. She’s too perfect.

  I put the phone down and smile.

  She does love me.

  I know it.

  Perfect timing as my pho
ne vibrates on the side and the alert sounds out; a text message. My heart skips a beat as I snatch the phone back up in my hand. I hope it’s her.

  I smile.

  It is.

  “Good night. Thanks.”

  I was hoping for more than that but it’s all positive. Nothing negative. She doesn’t say she doesn’t wish to see me again. See, she does love me. And, to think, I doubted her for a minute. I’m the fool.

  I put the phone down again.

  I’ll leave it a day before I reply so I don’t come across as too keen........

  * * * * *

  “Are you going to see him again?” asked Jackie.

  She was referring to Peter. She had given up talking about Sam and so had I. We were just going around in circles - she was asking why I couldn’t walk away from him and I was angry at her for getting in touch with him in the first place. I was angry initially anyway - I had turned my phone on to two more messages; one was from Peter and one more from Sam asking to meet up with me.

  Whilst Jackie was watching me, thinking I was replying to Peter, I was actually sending Sam a message - agreeing to meet up with him. One last meet.

  “Well?” she continued as I read the text message that came through to my phone saying we’d meet tonight, after my shift.

  I put my phone down onto the canteen table, upside down so it - if any more messages came through - they couldn’t be read by anyone else, and looked at Jackie, “I don’t know.”

  “Wasn’t he very nice?”

  “He was... fine.”

  “Fine? You don’t sound very sure of yourself.”

  He wasn’t Sam.

  My Samuel. We have history together and it’s hard to ignore that. What if he has changed? What if we could make it work this time? Do I even want to try and make it work with him again? We’ll see, I guess.

  “See him again,” she said.

  Did she see me reply to Sam? Did she know I was planning on seeing him again?

  “What?” I asked.

  “See Peter again - maybe one evening wasn’t enough to form a proper opinion. Maybe he was nervous. Second date he may come out of his shell a little more...”

  Maybe my first impressions were wrong of Peter - although gut feelings didn’t normally let me down. Maybe he was just shy. Maybe he’ll be different the next time we see each other - more like the man that I met at the checkout. Last night, it was as though something was bothering him. He just didn’t seem as charming as he first appeared when he came into the shop. But, then, maybe hearing from Sam just confused me and I, subconsciously, didn’t give Peter all of the attention he deserved.

  Maybe I missed something.

  Maybe.

  I’ll see Sam later. See Sam one last time and get him out of my system once and for all and then worry about what I may or may not feel for Peter.

  “I sent him a text thanking him for last night and that I had a nice evening,” I said to Jackie who was looking at me, waiting for an answer to her suggestion.

  “Well there you go - see him again. I’m not saying you have to marry the guy but don’t give up on him just because you were distracted by your phone all night. Just, this time, turn you phone off when you’re with him! Give the poor guy a chance!”

  I smiled at Jackie as though I was agreeing with everything she was saying - yet, all the time I was listening to her - I just kept thinking what a hypocrite she was; the sort of woman that left her mobile phone on, just in case a better offer was to come through during a date night. Before now she has asked me to call her, to get her out of a date, just so she could go straight into the arms of another man.

  I don’t know how she does it.

  8

  I’m not clingy.

  I need to come to the supermarket. I’ve run out of..... milk.

  I’ve run out of milk.

  I need milk.

  Yes.

  Milk.

  I can’t help it if she happens to work in my local supermarket. It’s just one of those things; a coincidence. If I end up at her checkout - it’s not because I’m stalking her or seeing what she’s up to - it’s because it happens to be the checkout with the shortest queue.

  Yes.

  Definitely a coincidence.

  I’m not clingy.

  Even so, I can’t get out of my car. I’m dying to go in. I’m dying to see her... and get my milk. It just feels wrong. It feels as though I’m spying on her - seeing what she is up to.

  I am.

  No.

  I’m not.

  I’m here for milk. Just milk. Everything else is a coincidence.

  I kill the car’s engine and pull the key from the ignition. I should just go home but I need to see her. The more I think about her text, the more it vexes me - the lack of kisses. A distinct lack of emotion and feeling. Why?

  When I text her, I put kisses.

  I wonder if she put kisses to whoever was texting her all night. Why couldn’t she have just left her phone off - would have stopped all this worrying.

  I watch other customers walk into and out of the store.

  It could be any one of them... the mystery texter. Sneaking in to see her whilst she is working, hoping to blend in with other customers so they can go unnoticed by her bosses. Unnoticed by... me.

  I’ll go in.

  I open the door and climb from the car, slamming the door shut before locking it with the key. I don’t even have to talk to her. She doesn’t even have to know I’m there. Hell, she probably isn’t even working. No guarantee she is working this shift; she could have had her hours changed again.

  No guarantee at all.

  I start walking towards the supermarket’s door and stop suddenly when I spot her leaving. I duck down behind my car. I don’t want her to see me. I don’t want to appear clingy or desperate.

  Did she even see me?

  I peer over the bonnet. She’s not looking over. She’s just stopped by the doors - what’s she doing? She’s looking from side to side - is she waiting for someone? The text pest. I knew something was up yesterday.

  I fucking knew it.

  I should just get in my car and drive off; drive off and never see her again. The cheating whore.

  Stop it.

  It could be entirely innocent.

  Last night - the text messages could have been innocent.

  One more peep.

  She’s talking to someone. Who? A man. Dark hair, slim.

  A weakling.

  Bad complexion.

  Dark, greasy hair.

  He must be a stranger asking for directions, or something. She wouldn’t be interested in someone like that. He looks dirty; like he hasn’t bathed or washed since forever. Definitely someone lost, asking for directions. He’ll go soon.

  I watch a little longer, from the safety of behind my car.

  He isn’t going.

  She leaned forward and kissed him in the cheek.

  What the hell was that?

  Look away. You don’t need to see this.

  No.

  They’re laughing now. Was it a funny kiss? Something funny to laugh about?

  The runt is holding his hand out towards her and smiling. She is smiling back - who is he? I feel a stab in my chest as she takes his hand and he leads her across the car park towards what must be his car - a crappy little Ford Escort.

  Last night - was she just playing with me?

  Was she playing with my feelings?

  Cunt.

  The runt is a gentleman. He’s holding the passenger door open for her and she’s smiling as she goes to get in. What the Hell? He slammed the door before she could climb in. Perhaps I’m worrying for nothing - he’s laughing at her and she looks far from impressed.

  Why’s he shaking his head? He takes hold of her wrist and pulls around to the other side of the car and opens the door - gesturing for her to get in. She’s shaking her head now. I wonder what they’re saying.

  He’s leaning into the car now. Getting
something, by the looks of it. What’s he doing? She’s as confused as I am.

  What’s that?

  Learner plates?!

  She’s laughing but still shaking her head. I’d rather she continued the shaking of the head and stopped laughing. I like it more when she looks angry with him. Go back to looking angry, dear.

  He’s walking around to the front of the car, with the L-plates, and sticks one to the bonnet. Must be one of the magnetic ones. I didn’t see him peel any stickers off.

  Not that I give a fuck.

  To the back of the car, now, and he does the same to the back bumper. I look back to front of the car now and she’s smiling the brightest smile I’ve ever seen from her. Another stabbing feeling runs through my chest as she points to the driver’s seat - must be asking permission to get in because he’s nodding at her now.

  Don’t do it, Susie. Don’t go with him. Enough is enough now. Go back to the Supermarket... do some overtime. Do anything. Anything but....

  She’s climbed into the car and he’s closed the door behind her. He runs round to the passenger seat and climbs in. The door closes on both the car and my relationship.

  It’s over.

  I climb into my own car, unable to take my eyes off Susie and the runt. Was he the one that was texting all night? Who is he? Maybe he’s an old friend. It’s not as though it was a proper kiss. Friends kiss like that. I’ve seen it---

  He’s kissing her now. Properly.

  Another stabbing from within my chest.

  Friends don’t kiss like that.

  The Ford Escort slowly moves away from the car parking space and promptly stalls. I can’t help but snigger through my tears of anger. She should have asked me to teach her - I wouldn’t have let her stall.

  Wait.

  I won’t let her stall.

  It’s not over.

  Clearly I am better than he is. I’m the better person. Whoever he is, he’s not going to take her away from me. Susie and I were meant to be together. There isn’t a chance in Hell he is going to take her away.

  I fire up my own engine and start to follow as Susie finally manages to pull away without stalling - heading towards the car park’s exit. I wonder, maybe I should just drive into the back of them - like an accident - forcing them to stop? She’d climb out, see me and panic that she’s been caught out. I’d play it cool, of course, apologise for hitting them and offer to pay for damages - I wouldn’t even act mad that I’ve seen her with another man. Just hand over my details, climb back into my car and drive off. She’d do the same - probably stall again knowing the runt - and then she won’t be able to stop wondering what is going through my mind. She’ll start wondering whether I’m not keen on her. She’ll start wanting me more because she’ll be worrying that I don’t want her.