A Step to Nowhere

by Natasha A. Salnikova

  I shrugged away the thoughts about my almost ex-boyfriend and focused on the stranger’s phone. In addition to the number 2, I had discovered the number 1. That was it. One and two, nothing else.

  “Hmmm. This guy is very social. Where should I call? Too many choices.”

  I decided that number two would be better since that person had just called. Curiosity got the best of me and I opened the app for text messages. So what? The owner wasn’t going to find out and I deserved some compensation for my good intentions. At least my curiosity should be satisfied.

  Received messages.

  We need more pictures. The date is almost here.

  That was the first I had opened.

  He wants to receive reports more often.

  That was the second.

  We haven’t received any reports. What happened?

  So boring. Who was he? An accountant? I switched from messages received to messages sent. Maybe something more interesting was there. For example – I had an upset stomach last night and had to make my report sitting on the toilet. A part of it went into the water and I need to redo it now.

  Ha-ha.

  Left the building.

  First message. Left the building. And? This person needed to contact a matchmaking service or hang himself. No one could live like this. Even though for some people it probably was normal and not boring. Could it be?

  It was the first message, but the last of the ones he had sent. It meant the rest were going to be from the end to the beginning.

  Returned from lunch.

  Went to lunch. Cut off a Toyota on her drive back and flashed a middle finger to the driver when he sounded the horn at her for her mistake.

  Entered the building.

  Left the building. Dressed in a gray jacket and jeans. Red bag and shoes. Mood was good. Stayed at home alone.

  I transferred my gaze from the phone to my gray jacket. Gray jacket. My jeans were in the bedroom on the floor. Red bag and red shoes in the hallway.

  I turned to the phone slowly and went to the next message.

  From the store, right home. Only two bags. She bought milk, cream, croissants, tomatoes, apples, ice-cream, two bars of chocolate “Ritter sport” and Lipton tea. She suggested to the lady at the cash register that she smile at the customers. The lady didn’t answer, but didn’t look happy. She looked happy.

  I swallowed and licked my lips. My mouth went dry. The day before yesterday I had gone to the store and bought everything on the list in the message. The “lady at the cash register” was in a bad mood or maybe she just hated her job, so she kept her lips pressed tight. She was rude to the old lady before me and looked at my French manicure with hatred. I just suggested that she smile at the customers and try to be polite. I had forgotten about it when I left the store.

  When I opened the next message my hands trembled.

  Entered the store.

  Exited the building.

  Didn’t leave for the lunch break.

  Entered the building, stumbled by the door, and said some bad words from the list.

  Left the apartment building. A blue dress, yellow bag and shoes. Her bag was heavy; she passed it from one hand to the other while walking to her car. The young man left earlier.

  The phone fell out of my hand and landed on the floor with a muffled thud. I wanted to fall beside it, but I held on to the table and sat down on the chair. A sense of unreality covered me completely; I was in a vacuum. All noises ceased to exist and fog was in front of my eyes. Yesterday I was in the same condition but it was a happy self-forgetfulness, today it was unconscious fear.

  I had no idea how long I had been sitting like this before I heard another call. It was my phone now, but I was afraid to stand up. I took a breath and grabbed the phone. I answered it when I saw the number I’d remembered since yesterday.

  “How was your night?”

  I wanted to answer that it was good, but my lips felt glued. I licked them and said, “It was good.”

  The words came out crackly like an old gate. I went to the kitchen to drink some water.

  “Did I wake you up?”

  “No. Just a second.”

  Without putting the phone down, I poured some filtered water in a glass and took a few gulps.

  “Sorry.” I put the glass on the table and went to the living room.

  “Your voice is strange. Are you okay?”

  I picked up the blue phone and sat on the couch; I needed to sit.

  “Sam?”

  “Sorry, I’m just a little … I need a second.”

  “You have regrets about yesterday?” His voice was showing an open worry.

  “No … It’s not about you. I mean … How can I regret something I wanted?”

  “What then? I can hear that something’s wrong.”

  “I haven’t seen you in five years, we’ve just met. I can’t involve you in something I don’t understand myself.”

  “Listen, it’s undurah.”

  “What?”

  There was a second of silence.

  “I mean bullshit. Time doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is us. Now you know what I think about you and how I feel. If you have problems I want to know about it. I want to be involved, I want to help.”

  I didn’t answer right away. I also wanted him to care about me; I wanted to go with him through everything that life would bring, but I didn’t know what was going on. Should I call the police or Jason? Or my mom? No, not my mom, she would have a heart attack.

  I glanced at the blue phone, turned it in my hand. Ray was waiting silently.

  “I think someone is following me.”

  “Following you? Why? Who? What do you mean?”

  I had started to forget how much he talked and how many questions he asked. It even brought a smile to my face.

  “Sam? Who’s following you?”

  “Remember I found a phone last night?”

  “No, yesterday everything was … Actually … I think I do.”

  “The person who walked behind me dropped it. He ran into me when I stopped. But he disappeared so fast that I couldn’t see if it was a man or a woman. This person, let’s say it was a man, has lost his phone, and I checked it today so I could try to find the owner. I did a bad thing, I must admit; I checked his messages.”

  “And what?”

  Patience was not his strong point, I remembered that. When we used to work together, when we tried to ignore each other with all our might, and yelled at each other in especially critical moments, he, always full of energy, demanded immediate answers for any questions he could possibly find. When he was doing business—he was doing business with no sentiments or hesitation. I like that about him. Unlike Jason, who needed to check something ten times before making a decision. It had never mattered to Ray what problems I had, no matter how much we hated each other (pretended to hate) he was always there, helping me if I needed it.

  “Sam, please. I’ll do anything for you.”

  “I know.”

  “What did you find?”

  “Just messages about my movements. Somebody reported to somebody my every step. Including my clothes, my purchases, and my conversation with a cashier in a store.”

  “Wait, wait. You found a schedule of your everyday activities in the stranger’s phone?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’m saying it and my head has started to spin. I’m kind of scared. I don’t understand who it was or why. They now know that they’ve lost the phone. They might even know I found it. What does it mean?”

  “Wait, don’t panic.”

  “You should remember that I’ve always been a panic monger and an emotional wreck.”

  “I wouldn’t say you’ve been an emotional wreck. Have you noticed anyone watching you?”

  “No, never. I’m in shock. But I didn’t pay attention! How would I know if someone was following me? Why? It doesn’t make sense. I don’t own any government secrets; I’m not a spy or a millio
naire. I’m just a magazine editor.”

  “Are you involved in politics?”

  “What politics? I work with show business.”

  “What about enemies? Do you have enemies? Rejected admirers?”

  I lay on my side and pulled my knees to my chest.

  “No. I mean, not that I know of. Ray, I can’t talk.”

  Suddenly, I felt physically, all the horror of the situation. I felt as if all the bones had been removed from my body and I was covered with a two-hundred pound blanket.

  “I’m coming over, right now.”

  “They could be watching the building. And I need to get to work.”

  “Sam, something weird is going on, what work? You can’t go on with your business like nothing is happening. We need to find out who these people are and what they want. It could be a stalker. These people are crazy, you don’t know what to expect.”

  Suddenly, I wanted to bring back yesterday. I wanted everything to remain the way it was. My life wasn’t that bad for me to want to change it. Dreams could stay dreams. I might have lived in an imaginary world, but I had known who was behind my back and what to expect from the next day. Now, to my horror and surprise, I understood that there was a shroud before my eyes. I was in a thick, impenetrable fog and didn’t know where to go. What should I expect from my next step? Was that what I wanted? Really?

  “I’m coming,” Ray said.

  “I prefer to come to you.”

  “Why? It could be dangerous.”

  “I want to know if they are still following me. What if they don’t know that I picked up the phone? That person ran so fast he could have missed it. I’m almost positive it was a man. Now that I know they are on my tail, that’s the first step. And second, now that I know they are watching, I probably can see a spy.”

  Ray took a pause.

  “I worry about you. It’s a very, very strange and unusual situation.”

  “I’ll call my boss and then come to your place. Do you mind?”

  “I just worry, but I can’t wait to see you. I couldn’t sleep last night.”

  I wanted to say I hadn’t slept either, but it would be a lie; plus, I couldn’t call myself sentimental. I could gush over a drooling baby or a clumsy pup, but not over a man. I also couldn’t call my boyfriends babe, hon, bunny, or tell them I loved them. Words, for me, meant less than actions. Yes, I slept through the night as if dead and didn’t even go to the bathroom. Probably that was why I wanted to do just that instead of drowning in declarations.

  “Ray, I’ll drive to your place, okay?”

  “I’d say it would be reckless, but I know you … I’ll wait in the lobby.”

  “No. They might start suspecting.”

  “Let’s hope they don’t know that you have the phone.”

  “Okay.”

  I said goodbye. No kissing the phone or talking of forever love. I still felt weak and didn’t want to get off the couch, but I had to do it if I didn’t want to make my couch wet. I went to the bathroom, took a shower and brushed my teeth, trying not to think about strangers who were actively interested in my life for some reason unknown to me. I put my robe on, twisted a towel over my hair, and made myself a cup of coffee with cream and sugar. I sat back on the couch and put the darn, blue phone in front of me on the glass table. I drank coffee, the phone was quiet.

  Who were these people? Who was I to attract such unhealthy interest? Could it really be an admirer? Who could be interested in me without my knowledge? Maybe …

  I took an empty cup into the kitchen and went to the bedroom to get dressed.

  Could it be Jason? What if he had hired a private eye to follow me because …

  Black or blue?

  Both dresses were tight and short. They were telling the world: Here I am! I’m here for you! Take me. Dear babe, I’m your bunny, I’m yours forever!

  Jeans and a white sweater would be a great choice. Perfect for the weather, sexy, but in moderation. Jeans were tight, great for my ass.

  Don’t forget to call your office.

  “What if he was jealous?”

  Jealous? Of whom? Hypothetically? I didn’t notice any signs. He had never talked about it, hadn’t hinted. Plus, it wasn’t in his personality. I knew Jason.

  Should I wear my hair up? Actually no, it was still wet. Better in the car, on my way. I could use some perfume, blush, mascara, and a lip gloss. Get rid of this unhealthy pallor; create a fresh look. Can we do it? Yes, we can!

  What if it was my mom? No, she wasn’t crazy. She also wouldn’t spend that kind of money to hire someone. Then who?

  I brushed my wet hair, thinking that my sweater would become wet too, added some color to my eyes, lips and cheeks. In the mirror, I saw a pretty, twenty-nine-year-old woman. When I’d met Ray I was twenty-four. He was twenty-three but I had always felt as if I were younger. He was always so reasonable, so smart, so grown up, but at the same time he was a boy. I had been forever seventeen; irresponsible, rough, with a constant desire to shock. I had changed during these years, but hadn’t grown up. Who were these people? What did they want from me?

  Don’t forget perfume. Elizabeth Arden 5th Avenue was just right. Sexy, but subtle. When they found me with my head shot through, I would smell of Elizabeth Arden. Elizabeth Arden and lacy underwear was going to look fancy on an autopsy table.

  “My Lord, what am I thinking about? What autopsy? Why would somebody shoot me?”

  My legs became weak and I sat down on the floor. What if somebody really wanted to kill me? But why? There would be no logical explanation for it. Could I cross somebody’s path without knowing about it? They could hire a killer and …

  “I need to talk to someone.”

  Ray wanted to help and I wanted his help, but he didn’t know my life. He didn’t know who I had met, what I had done. Who would I tell? What if it was one of the people I knew? Maybe it was Jason? I would tell him, he would promise to help, but he was the one to organize it in the first place. Jason would not kill me. Actually, why not? How did I know? When he made pork chops he looked like a maniac. He would raise the knife and cut the meat like he was really enjoying it.

  “Stop it. It’s not even funny.”

  I picked myself up from the floor and looked in the mirror again, just to make sure that blush couldn’t hide protruding fear and mascara couldn’t conceal the panic in my eyes. Okay, I needed to calm down. Nothing had happened, really. Somebody followed your every step and then told someone else about your every move; so what? Not a big deal. It could happen to anyone.

  “Mommy, somebody wants to kill me!”

  Stop it! Why couldn’t I be cold, like other people? No emotions, just logic. Cold and calculated logic. What if I were to pull Ray into some kind of trouble? What if he was going to have problems because of me? People who watched me should know that I was with him last night and for a reasonably long time. What if it was Jason? No, it couldn’t be. Should I really get out of the house?

  Before leaving, I grabbed a cup of yogurt and ate it fast, standing by the fridge. I had usually been eating muesli for breakfast, or a cheese sandwich, but I wasn’t hungry at all, so I forced myself eat at least yogurt to have some energy going.

  I decided to make a call to work from the car and locked the door, double checking that I’d really locked it. Then I took the stairs to the lobby from my second floor apartment and stopped by the exit, trying to bolster my courage before going out. What if there was a person in a blue parka waiting for me? A person who had been doing this every day and I hadn’t noticed. It was because I never looked around; my focus was inside my head. I actually hadn’t checked how far the history of my following went. Why hadn’t I? Maybe it would give me an answer.

  The door opened without my help and my neighbor, Lauren, entered the building with a little dog under her arm. She was dressed in short, black shorts and a fashionable jacket. A beautiful, twenty-year-old girl. Could somebody be stalking her too? Why not? She deserved it more tha
n I. I would follow her for her long legs alone. Stalker. No, it couldn’t be. Stalkers worked alone. The person who watched me transferred the information to somebody else.

  “Hi, Sam!”

  “Hi. How are you?”

  “Great. It’s raining outside. I wanted to put my white jeans on, but they would be dirty before I got to the subway.”

  “It’s going to be dry before lunch time.”

  “They promised rain again. Hate this weather. 'Kay, see you later.”

  “Listen, Lauren!”

  She stopped before the elevator, impatience in her eyes and a smile on her lips.

  “I have a strange question,” I giggled like an idiot. I didn’t mean to giggle, it was a reflex. “Have you seen a stranger outside?”

  “What do you mean? There’re like zillions of them.”

  “I mean … I haven’t had my coffee yet. Somebody who walked there, as if waiting for someone?”

  Lauren thought it over, raising her eyes to the ceiling and scratching her dog behind the ear. I just noticed that the dog had sparkling polish on its claws.

  “No,” she said.

  “You take Luke out for a walk every day; maybe you’ve seen the same person by our building? In a blue parka?”

  “Is it a game or something?”

  “No, it’s just … Okay, never mind. Sorry for keeping you.”

  Lauren raised her eyebrows, the look on her face said that she had aways known about her neighbor’s psychological condition. She turned to the elevator and pressed the UP button.

  As for me, I breathed heavily, as if I were about to give birth, grabbed the door handle, and stepped outside.

  I didn’t know yet that I was not going to come home for a long, long time.