by Abe Moss
She even went so far as to visit one of the last people she ever wanted to see again.
She waited until after work one night—having left Jensen’s Grocery, now the front desk attendant at a local fitness center—to go and see him. Everything was of course how she remembered it. Time hadn’t gone by here like it had in Dr. Lull’s world. She took the elevator to his floor, traced her way down the corridor to his door—apartment 97—and rang the bell.
No one ever answered the door. She rang again and waited and still nothing. She felt a little relieved, also a little disappointed. She returned to the elevator. She pressed the button with the downward arrow on it. When the elevator arrived, she stood directly in front of the doors, not expecting anyone to be coming out of them when they opened. She was wrong.
The doors opened and she nearly bumped right into him, coincidental as it was. She gave a little shout and stood back, laughed instinctively, embarrassed.
“Addie?”
He didn’t look any different. Of course not, she thought. It had only been a few weeks since they last saw each other.
Months for me.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I came to see you.”
“Oh.” He stepped out of the elevator and the doors shut next to them. He looked down the corridor toward his apartment. “I’m just getting home from seeing a friend. You want to come inside?”
“No. I’m actually just here to ask you something. I would have called but I don’t have your number anymore. New phone.”
“That makes sense. I texted you a few times, after… you know. But you never replied.”
Addie shut her eyes and took a quick breath.
“I wanted to ask you about the guy who was here with you that night.”
“Oh. Okay?”
“I need his name. I know it was Bud, I don’t know his last name.”
Carter gave her a puzzled look, and that puzzlement dissolved into something like disgust.
“You’re not… like, stalking him, are you?”
“No, I’m not stalking him. I need to see him.”
“What do you need to see him for?”
“It’s nothing to do with you.”
Another puzzled head-tilt.
“I don’t see how that’s poss—”
“We had an exchange that night in the parking lot after I left. I feel really bad about it. I’m…” She thought for a minute. She’d already planned what she wanted to say to Carter, to explain her asking, but she wondered now if the reason she’d come up with was good enough. It didn’t matter. “I’m doing some self-improvement, making amends with people I’ve hurt. He’s someone on my list and I’d like to see him. To apologize.”
Carter appeared surprised, in a kind of “that doesn’t seem like you” sort of way, but she thought nothing of it. She was becoming impatient.
“Well, I wish I could help. I only met him that night at a club. We didn’t exactly exchange numbers or anything. Not after you showed up, especially.” He paused. “You sure you don’t want to come inside and talk for a bit?”
She sighed, feeling defeated. “I’m sure.”
She turned toward the elevator and reached for the button when he stepped forward, interrupting her.
“You don’t want to make amends with me?”
She laughed almost immediately. She pushed the elevator button. She looked over her shoulder at his pitiful, childish face.
“I have nothing to feel sorry for, Carter. And I’m not the least bit bothered by your side in things, either. That story’s finished. But thanks.”
He may have said something after that, but she didn’t listen. The doors opened and she stepped inside. She pushed the button for the ground floor, and didn’t return his gaze as the doors shut between them.
✽✽✽
How many people could there be in the area named Bud? she wondered, sitting alone at her laptop in her new room, new apartment. She leaned back in her chair, biting the nail of her thumb.
Just then the front door opened. Keys jangled into a dish. Shoes clunked and tossed themselves onto the floor. A woman sighed.
“I’m home! Hello?”
“Hello!” Addie called back.
It was Vicky, her roommate. From the other room she continued shouting.
“I know it’s late, but I’m starving! You wanna come with me to get something to eat?”
Addie nodded, only to herself.
“Okay!”
She closed her laptop and left to put on some better clothes.
✽✽✽
The gym lobby was empty when she punched out, save for one man sitting in the small café area next to the entrance. His head was down, thumbing through his phone in his lap, a sweaty towel draped over his neck. Addie almost didn’t notice him on her way out. Whatever he browsed on his phone made him laugh, however, and she looked up nearing the exit. She recognized him.
Feeling a moment of hesitation, she opened her mouth and it hung there quietly. She nearly continued on without saying anything at all, but something caught his attention—perhaps he saw her pause in the corner of his eye—and he glanced up to see her. He raised his brow in surprise.
“Hey!” he said.
She returned his smile. “Hey.”
“I didn’t know you came here.”
She took a few steps toward his table.
“I don’t. I mean, I work here. Well, as of a couple weeks ago.”
“Oh, nice! I didn’t see you on my way in, apparently.”
“They switch us around a bit. I work the front desk for a while, then they might have me doing some cleaning in the locker rooms.” She nodded and a silence followed. “You come here every night?”
“Try to!” He laughed. “Now I’m just waiting for my ride. You in a hurry?”
Feeling no interest in catching up, Addie shrugged.
“Gotta get to bed at a good time for once or I’m not going make it through the week. I’ve got classes in the morning, so…”
“Oh, all right!” He never stopped smiling—quite a handsome smile, Addie admitted—and she thought it strange how… calm she was. “Maybe we should catch up some time. I think I still have your number!”
“Yeah, maybe,” she said, friendly enough but not too inviting. “Anyway, I better get going. It was nice seeing you, Sam!”
He waved and she left outside to her car. When she was buckled in, she checked her phone for messages and there were none.
It was a good feeling.
✽✽✽
She woke from a terrible dream. Covered in sweat, she sat up and threw the blankets off her legs. Then she grabbed her pillow and held it against herself while she cried.
When she thought she could stop, that she could hold it in, she got up and left her room to the kitchen. She got a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water from the tap and gulped half of it down. Her mind swam in the leftovers of her dream, and all the thoughts from her past that it dredged up with it, and with the glass to her lips, the water in her mouth, she began to cry again uncontrollably. She choked on the water and set the cup down, wiped her face on her arm.
Suddenly a voice spoke next to her in the dark and she jumped. It was Vicky. She hadn’t even heard footsteps or the sound of her bedroom door opening.
“Are you okay?”
For a brief moment she considered lying. She hated these moments. No one should see her cry. No one cared, anyway, did they? But something about Vicky was different. She paid attention. She noticed things. She was the first person Addie ever lived with besides her parents, and there were so many things she felt from her which were alien to her. Her first thought after picking up on these things was that perhaps Vicky was a lesbian, but she quickly decided that wasn’t it. She only thought it was strange. Could it be possible that someone would want her friendship for nothing in return but the same? It would take time to get used to it, she thought. But everyone has to start somewhere.
She opened her mouth to voice the lie, but something silenced her. Maybe it was the rising lump in her throat, or the tears welling up hot as coals behind her eyes. Or maybe it was a want for something closer…
“No,” she answered. “I’m not okay.”
Vicky, in the dark, came to her with open arms.
✽✽✽
She didn’t visit her father’s grave anymore. Her feelings had grown to be something more complex than what she could navigate even on a good day. He wasn’t the sweet, protective, happy, fun father she remembered. She figured most people felt that way about their parents come a certain age… but maybe not in the same context. He did love her. She told herself that much, and believed it. He did other things, too, however. Things others might call unforgivable. She was still toying with that idea herself. She could say the words easily enough, but grasping their full meaning was taking time.
Good people do bad things.
She never visited her mother’s grave. There wasn’t a funeral. The burial was handled almost without any of her input, and what was left of the estate after those costs had been covered were given to her and that was all she needed to remember her by. She did worry sometimes that her lack of feeling for her mother was an indication of her own misunderstanding, but mostly she didn’t think so. She thought she understood her mother just fine. She was a selfish, broken woman. She couldn’t have ever been anything else. And for that, Addie forgave her.
She didn’t have to like her for it.
✽✽✽
The effects were there. Some were less obvious than others, but they hadn’t been there before and that told her enough. The way her heart beat faster the first few times she set foot in the bath. She only showered anymore. When she was alone in her apartment, any sound at all could make her jump. Her upstairs neighbors were experts in setting her nerves on end, on that score.
For a while she found she couldn’t look at the night sky for very long, as the longer she did the more anxious she became, until she found herself holding her breath, prepared to see something glowing in the distance, or hidden in the clouds.
She hung blackout curtains over her bedroom window, pulled them shut at night to keep from ever accidentally looking through the glass and seeing something she didn’t want to see. Nothing was ever there, or ever would be. But the memory remained.
✽✽✽
Vicky was waiting for her when she came home from work one night. She sat at the table eating a bowl of something white—ice cream, probably, Addie thought. When she came through the front door she turned to her, quickly got to her feet.
“Someone dropped a letter off for you a little bit ago. They slid it under the door sometime while I was watching TV. I only noticed when I got up to use the bathroom.”
“Where is it?”
Vicky grabbed it from the table and offered it to her.
“It wasn’t sealed at all. I didn’t open it, though.”
Addie took the envelope from her and held it up. There was only one word on the envelope’s face, and it started her heart thump, thump, thumping.
It read: Addie
She opened it up and pulled out a single folded sheet of paper. She unfolded it. The message inside was handwritten, by the same hand as whoever wrote her name on the envelope.
The message was fairly straightforward. It read: There’s a bench outside the front door of the city library. Meet me there tomorrow night at 10.
Addie held the letter in front of her eyes for a minute or two, rereading it again and again, as short as it was. Her heart never slowed its thumping.
“What is it?” Vicky asked.
She lowered the letter, held it tight at her side. She met Vicky’s curious stare with her own wide eyes. Her mouth had gone dry. She swallowed.
“I…”
She never told Vicky about the doctor. She didn’t tell anyone. Who would believe such a thing? There was only one person in the world she could ever speak to about it, she thought, and he had been there. The possibility that it was him occurred to her, but… no. She’d seen this handwriting before. The only difference here was that the letter inside had been typed those other times.
Could it be the doctor? I don’t see how. He’s gone. I saw it with my own eyes. He’s gone for good.
Unless, she thought, the doctor had never addressed his own envelopes.
Whoever wrote the letter knew Addie’s new schedule well enough. She could be to the library by 10 the following night if she left there straight from work. Would she?
“I don’t know what it is,” she told Vicky. “I think it’s from Carter.”
“How does he know you’re here? What does he want?”
“He wants me to meet him.”
“Are you going to?”
“No, of course not.”
She folded the letter and put it back into the envelope.
“Sounds like he’s a bit of a stalker,” Vicky said. “You should be careful.”
Addie nodded, halfway present. Her mind was wandering.
“I know.”
✽✽✽
She punched out at 9:47 P.M. the following night. She had thirteen minutes to get in her car and drive to the library, which was a ten-minute drive. She would make it just in time. Already she felt a cold quivering in her legs, a lightheaded anxiousness.
She grabbed her things from the front desk—her book, her phone, her keys—and started for the doors. Halfway there she was greeted by a familiar voice.
“Hey!”
She turned. Sam was coming through the doors on the other side of the lobby. Somehow, once again, she’d missed him entering the building when he arrived and was only catching him on both their way out. It was weird how things like that happened, she thought.
“I didn’t see you when I got here, but here you are again!” He approached her with his towel thrown over his shoulder, that handsome smile lighting up his face.
Addie didn’t have time. “I know, that’s so funny. Hey, I’d love to talk again, but I actually—”
“I was hoping I’d see you again. We didn’t get to talk a whole lot, but I was wondering if you’d want to do something this weekend, maybe? Get coffee or something.”
Can he be serious? After the train wreck of our first and final date?
“Yeah, maybe. If I see you again sometime this week we can work it out, but right now I really—”
“Do you still have my number? I thought I still had yours, but apparently I didn’t. I don’t know. To be honest, after our last date I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to see me again. You seemed pretty anxious to leave...”
Like now. Like right now.
“I hope I didn’t make you too uncomfortable. If I did, let me know. I’d love to take you out again, if you’re up for it.”
“Aren’t there any other girls around to ask on dates?” she said, and regretted it the instant she saw the hurt confusion in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I just mean… that was four months ago. Surely you could have met someone else by now.” She laughed, hoping to punctuate her accusation with something to sound less hostile.
“Well, I…”
“Listen…” She thought for a second. “I’m in a hurry to be somewhere, but I’m here again tomorrow night. If you’re that interested, find me again tomorrow and we can set something up. But I really have to go now.”
The smile never found its way back to his lips, but he nodded understandingly.
“Sure. I’ll do that. Tomorrow night.”
“Okay, great.”
She turned for the doors.
“I’ll hold you to that!” he called after her.
“Okay, great!” she repeated, not turning back.
She pushed her way outside into the parking lot. She fished her keys out of her pocket, made her way to her car. She got in, took a deep breath, turned her key in the ignition. The clock in the dash read 9:51.
She wasn’t sure how important it was to be on time, but she ha
d every intention of doing so.
✽✽✽
She hit every red light she could on the way, and when she pulled along the street curb next to the small library the clock read 10:02. She parked, shut off the engine. From there she could see the library entrance and the bench next to it, a large lamp beside the building casting an amber glow over the entire walkway.
The bench was empty.
“Shit,” she muttered.
She got out of the car slowly, looked around herself. The street was mostly deserted. An oncoming car passed and she looked directly into its headlights. A young couple sat in the front. They watched her as they passed.
She walked around her car, up the curb, made her way over the tidy lawn toward the walkway to the front doors. The library was already closed, had been for an hour or more. The small parking lot was empty. She neared the bench, paused. She looked around herself. She looked up at the trees across the parking lot, separating it from the houses on the other side. She craned her neck and looked up at the clear sky above, starry and black.
When she lowered her gaze, movement caught her attention off to her right. Someone was coming, following the sidewalk across the street. They stopped, looked both ways, and began crossing directly toward her. Hands in their pockets, head bent. They were probably headed elsewhere, only passing by on their way to wherever that was. Nearly to her side of the street, they lifted their head. A couple steps after that and they stopped completely.
Addie’s chest hitched with every shallow breath. She licked her dry, parted lips. In the night, she couldn’t see them too clearly, but standing under the library’s parking lot lamp she guessed they could see her quite well. She wanted to say something but couldn’t.
Why are you stopped? What are you doing? Who are you? You look nothing like Nuala, or the doctor. Who are you? Say something.
