by Matt Shaw
“Nothing?”
“Well, nothing that I want to do.”
“I know of one job...”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to say!”
“I’m not coming back.”
“Oh, go on... it’s not the same without you. It’s boring! I’m sure Phil would take you back in a heart-beat.... you should see the dross he has been interviewing. They all look as though they lack the mental capabilities to stack a shelf, let alone operate a till....”
Phil was the store manager. Right from the moment I met him, I always felt uneasy around him. Every time I turned around, I’d see him standing near-by just watching me. Sometimes he was doing nothing else at the time so he would literally just be there, in the middle of the store.... looking at me. It used to freak me out.
“I’m not coming back....”
“You know Phil would take you back....” She adopted a silly voice, “He fancied you..... You’re his special girl....”
“Oh shut up! That’s disgusting.”
“So what are you going to do then?”
“Sponge off society for the rest of my life, claiming benefits?”
“Okay, you realise that, at some point, they’ll expect you to get a job, right?”
“I know... and I will. I’m already bored with being sat at home....”
“Oh, my heart bleeds for you.”
“Quit your job too! Be a lady of leisure, you could spend your time round here with me.”
“I’m sure the other half would be really happy about that.”
“He might be. He’d probably enjoy it, the thought of us...”
Jackie laughs, “Yes, he probably would but, sorry, I prefer cock.”
“Jackie!” It was my fault she stooped that low but, even so, it still surprised me. I should have known it was a mistake to even hint at something like that. Jackie’s mind was always a split second away from anything sex related.
“So what was the voicemail message all about anyway?” she asked, thankfully taking the conversation back into ‘normal’ territory. “You sounded upset.”
“A week ago.”
“What do you mean?”
“I sounded upset a week ago and, a week later, you only just get around to asking what’s wrong. Some friend you are!”
“I told you, I’ve been busy.... besides.... I’m here now, aren’t I?”
After I practically had to beg her to come over.
“I suppose,” I mutter, trying to keep the peace. After all, she’s here now, no need to harp on about it taking a week to return my call. I’m just thankful it wasn’t an emergency.
“So what was it all about?”
“A bit of everything, I guess - Peter showed up here, the day I walked out.”
“I wondered if he would...”
“You told him?”
“I didn’t tell him to come round your house, if that’s what you’re asking. But, I did tell him you had walked out. He was being weird - just walking up and down the aisle, like he was looking for your check-out. You know, he didn’t even buy his shopping?”
“He walked out with it?”
“No, as soon as he found out you’d just walked out - he did the same. Pushed his trolley to one side and just left. Like a man on a mission. Phil was fuming; your boyfriend had a trolley full of frozen stuff he just abandoned....”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“So what did he want?” I noticed she ignored the comment about him not being my boyfriend.
“Just to check up on me. Make sure I was okay.”
“Well, that’s sweet....”
“It was weird. He was weird. I didn’t like it.”
“He just wanted to make sure you were okay, there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s sweet. Have you seen him since?”
“No.”
“So that’s another man you frightened off?”
“Fuck you!” I never frighten the men off. They get bored with me and eventually leave me, Sam being the exception, but I never frighten them off. Peter was the first bloke I actively went out of my way to avoid and we weren’t even dating so that doesn’t count as a real boyfriend.
“Has he been in touch? Or tried?”
“No - the last text was later that same day; he sent me a text message to say sorry for coming round uninvited.”
“Well, there you go then.... he was just being sweet.”
“I guess.”
“Did you reply?”
“No.”
“And what about Sam?”
“What about him?”
“Has he been in touch?”
“No. That’s weird too - it’s like he has just vanished from the face of the planet. He’s never made it that easy when I’ve left him before. Normally he texts me, or calls me, until I agree to meet up with him again.... but, no, this time.... nothing.”
“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?”
“I guess.”
“You guess?”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t know how to. Jackie has probably lost count the amount of times Sam and I have broken up and got back together again. She’s probably sick and tired of hearing about it.
“You miss him, don’t you?”
I cringe. I know how pathetic it is. I know he’s not good enough for me. I’m better than everything he has to offer - even in my current jobless, penniless predicament, I’m still better than everything he has to give.
“I give up with you two,” Jackie continued.
“I can’t help it.”
“Have you tried calling him?”
“No,” I pause for less than a split second, “and I won’t. I’m not interested. I’m taking this whole mess I am in as a fresh start....”
“Not the best of starts.... no boyfriend, no job.....”
“It can only get better.”
“You’ve jinxed yourself now! You realise that, right?”
“I don’t believe in any of that, I’ll be fine.”
* * * * *
She’s hardly left her house, this past week.
She’s definitely had the time to answer my text message. A friendly apology for stepping out of line - unanswered. Shows she hasn’t forgiven me. She’s going to be hard work, I can tell.
Worth it, though.
Totally worth it.
Unless - unless, maybe she didn’t get the text message? I don’t get reports from my network provider telling me if messages have been read, let alone delivered so maybe it failed. Should I send another one? After all, if she replies straight away, this time, at least I’ll be ready for her.
Take her back to my house, show her what I’ve done to the place.
I hope she likes it.
That’s stupid.
It’s practically empty.
There isn’t anything not to like about the place.
I won’t text, not yet.
Soon.
I need to watch her for a little while longer. Make sure she really is as isolated as she appears. I hope so, it will make it easier when she suddenly vanishes. Like Sam. No one has missed him yet. At least, not that I’ve seen in the papers or News programs, I tend to watch in the evening.
If Susie’s life is as quiet as it appears, she’ll disappear with no one bothering to look for her. Other than her work colleague - I forget her name.
I wonder, maybe I should kill her first. Before I take Susie, kill her blabbermouth friend.
No.
Foolish.
I’ve been lucky with Sam, so far. Dear Sam.... resting in pieces in my freezer.
He’ll make a fine Sunday Roast for Susie, some day.
I laugh to myself.
Besides, thinking back to her work colleague, if I kill her - I think half the men in the town would notice - going by the impression I get of what sort of character she is. A slut of the worst kind.
The sort of ‘lady’ that gives others a bad name.
Another
laugh.
I should kill her. Do society a favour. Save them from the diseases she no doubt passes around whenever she lays with another man. Whore.
And yet - it appears she’s Susie’s only friend.
All the time I’ve been watching - I haven’t seen anyone else come and go.
Her mother; she said her mother was taking her to the job centre. It must have been a lie. When I heard that, I feared she had a close relationship with her mother but I haven’t seen her once and I’ve been here, one and off, for every day.
I don’t like that she lied to me but I’ll forgive her this once.
I wonder, would a punch in the mouth make her realise lies are evil?
I told a lie when we first met.
I told her I was shopping for other people. An act of kindness. A necessary lie.
For what little good it did me.
Still, I’ll watch her for a while longer. Just in case she had more visitors during the times I wasn’t able to sit outside and look in on her life. By varying the shifts, with which I look upon her house, I have more chance of catching people coming and going. It’s important I get this bit right.
It’s a shame I don’t have CCTV. I could set it up, outside her house, constantly recording to ensure I never miss anything. Pointless, it’s a waste of money. I’ll get her all to myself soon enough and won’t have a use for the cameras. Watching the place in shifts - that’s my best option.
16.
Another full week has passed and she’s only left the house twice; once to go to the job centre and the other time for what appeared to be a walk - perhaps done just to get out of her house, as opposed to any real reason. Maybe she was going a little stir crazy, sat in there, all alone.
She won’t be alone soon.
It’s almost time.
I’m still happy she’s the one. The more I watch her. The more I want her. She is the one for me, without a shadow of a doubt.
I’ve been waiting for this moment, for what seems, forever.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, I’ll bring her home.
A final walk around the house to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything.
The lounge.
I’ve ripped the carpets up. One less thing to distract us from our time together. Carpets aren’t important, in a relationship and, again, it’ll be nice traipsing around the stores together, in the coming months, choosing a nice thick carpet to keep our feet warm in the colder months. The walls are just as bare as the floor - I’ve re-painted them white and taken down the various paintings I had originally hung to add colour and character to the room; again, none of which are important whilst I’m trying to show her I’m the perfect man for her. And, again, it will give us something to shop for in the future.
Against the far wall is a settee which will comfortably seat three people. To the side of that is an armchair for a further one person. I don’t plan on having more than four people in here. I especially don’t want just three people.
Truth be told, in the early months, I don’t want any other people in here. This is my house.
Susie’s home.
Our home.
The settee itself is a relatively nice sofa. I didn’t feel the need to buy the most expensive but, considering the amount of time I plan to be in here with Susie, I didn’t want the cheapest either. It had to be comfortable.
Comfortable doesn’t come cheap.
Sadly.
On the opposite wall of the lounge is a small television but I doubt I’ll be keeping that there, when I bring Susie home. I want her to talk to me, get to know me - enjoy my company. I don’t fancy the idea of her sitting there, watching television all night barely speaking a word to me.
Maybe I’ll just take the fuse out of the plug. There is no denying the television helps make the room look more comfortable to sit in - even if it doesn’t work.
Yes.
I’ll do that.
Mental note to self - take the fuse out of the television’s plug.
I walk through to the kitchen.
The shelves and sides are crammed with food. Too much for the two of us to eat before it goes out of date. But I’m not wasting it. Well, she’s not. I’ll eat the good stuff and serve her the out of date stuff first.
Apart from the overflowing cupboards, I’ve more or less left the kitchen as it was. It’s not a room I plan on her seeing for a while. After all, she’s my guest to start with so I’ll do the cooking.
In time? Well, in time it will be nice to come home to a meal cooked by the woman I love. I think that’ll be a few months off, though.
Sadly.
The hallway, leading to the stairs is also missing it’s carpet. The mirror, that hung on the wall adjacent to the stairs - smashed and removed. Only a nail sticks out of the wall showing there once was something there.
A nail also showing that something could hang there once again, too.... when we’re ready to make the home our own. Our little nest.
Not that it’s really needed, as it was the last room that I sorted, I stick my head into the dining room. A cheap table from B&Q, less than one hundred pounds and four chairs, which came with the table, around it.
I left place settings on the table.
I think place settings are important. They show everyone has their own place. A place for Susie, a place for me and, eventually, a place for some guests. Maybe, and I’m getting ahead of myself now, her parents.
I wonder, will they give me their blessing to be seeing their daughter?
Hopefully.
I walk up the stairs noticing they creak more, without the carpet. Maybe getting rid of the carpet here was a mistake? No matter, something else to shop for - a romantic shopping trip..... looking for carpet. I smile to myself.
The bathroom - a clean, white bath-tub, white walls, white sink, light blue tiled floor. I don’t like this room. It seems clinical. Depressing. The other rooms are a little depressing - what with being so empty - but there’s scope, there, for improving it.
To improve the bathroom - to the scale which I think is needed - would be a major upheaval. I don’t have the time or the patience. Still, it’s clean. That’s something at least. I close the door as I step back out onto the landing.
