Curious Obsession

by Elora Ramirez

  “You haven’t figured it out? It’s me, baby. I’m your surprise.”

  I giggled and turned my head away, suddenly disgusted by his insistent pursuit of my touch.

  Dammit, Juniper. You were right. Again.

  I started running through how I would explain this to her — how I could twist it so it didn’t sound all that bad, considering. I knew she would read between the lines, though — she would know. I was desperate to be wrong about him — about this. Surely I could get out of this one.

  “Thad, I–”

  “Shhhh….” he placed his hand over my mouth and pushed me down on the couch.

  He didn’t hear me say no.

  He didn’t even see me cry.

  When he was done, he kissed my forehead and whispered, “you should probably leave before everyone shows up.”

  He pulled up his jeans and walked away from me into the bathroom where he turned on the shower. I was frozen. Did I say no? Did I…did he hear me? What just happened?

  I rearranged my clothing and wiped the tears off my cheeks and ran outside into the damp midnight air. Only when I was a few blocks away did I manage to pull out my cell phone and call my mom sobbing.

  “Oh baby,” was all she said. “Oh, baby. I’ll be there soon. Don’t you worry.”

  She was on her way to get me when she was t-boned by a drunk driver running a red light.

  I never heard from Thad again, proving Juniper right, and now our mom was gone forever.

  To this day Juniper and I refuse to talk about the real reason we’re orphans.

  We both know it’s me.

  11

  From my perch, I can see everything. You walk with that waste of breath down the path and the anger pulses beneath my skin. It should be me walking with you. He has nothing to offer, and I’m sure you’re only placating him because he’s latched on to you like a parasite since you’ve come into town.

  As you walk, your jean shorts begin to ride up your legs and chills race up my arms. You have a dancer’s physique: toned, smooth, supple. I place my hand against the window and caress your skin with my finger. You put your hands in your back pockets, and I glimpse a small sliver of your lower back. I bite my lip so hard the taste of copper fills my mouth.

  I can’t help but wonder how you would taste.

  I’ve been watching you constantly, daydreaming about what it will feel like to have both you and Juniper safe with me. It’s the only logical next step. I glance behind me to make sure she’s still sleeping off the drugs and turn around once more toward the window.

  You have no idea how close you are to me right now and the thought thrills me, like a secret begging to be released. I can almost feel you, pressed up against me, your head thrown back in ecstasy.

  One day.

  For only a moment, you disappear from view. My feet start tapping an impatient rhythm, wondering where you’ve gone and why you feel it necessary to be with Jasper in the first place. I breathe in sharp. I don’t trust him. But I can’t worry about that right now; I don’t have much time. I take one last look at Juniper, making sure she’s secure, before running over my own surprise. It doesn’t take long — a twist of the lock and I’m in.

  I find your purse quickly, and I drop the note where I know you’ll find it. My hands shake with anticipation. I finish what I need and then leave. By the time I’m back with Juniper, it’s only been seven minutes.

  It doesn’t take long for you to appear over the crest of the cliff again, but this time, I can tell something has changed. My eyes dart to the house and my skin grows cold. Roaches. All of them. Invading Juniper’s space and looking for traces of me they’ll never find. My anticipation grows and I gnaw at the skin by my thumbnail, waiting.

  I can tell it’s bothering you, the way they rip into everything and look for clues. They’re idiots. They’ll never find it. You continue to pace the living room and I wish I could hold you as the nerves take over. Jasper sits on his ass and does nothing, but what else is new.

  Soon enough, the roaches fall right into my trap, finding the device I left for them in the diffuser. A simple contraption, it would be noticeable to anyone looking. But what is this? You appear…shaken. What about our game? Aren’t you happy that I’m watching out for you?

  You glance out the window and I press my hand against the glass again when I realize we bite our thumbs the same way.

  We are meant to be, you and me.

  When you hand Jasper your wallet and he finds my note, I hit the wall with my fist.

  It’s not for him, Lavender. It’s for you. Why do you let him in so easily? My breath catches when I see the detective start to talk to you. What is happening? Why is Jasper leading you to his car?

  Where are you going, Lavender?

  “You bastard.”

  I blink, caught off guard. Turning, I see Juniper staring at me. I smile and move to walk over to her but her eyes widen as she turns into a wild thing, bucking and fighting against the constraints. I relax for a moment, enjoying the show.

  Your sister is so feisty when she’s upset, but I’m sure you know this already.

  “Youbastardyoufuckingdidthisyouwillpayyoumotherfuckerletmego.”

  I tsk, shaking my head.

  Such a mouth on this one. I had no idea just how feisty she was until I had her all to myself. I take my finger and lightly trace a vein that pulses beneath her skin. A quiet tear escapes from one of her eyes and I smile as I wipe it from dripping down her cheek.

  I know it’s because she’s overwhelmed with love for me.

  “Juniper,” I whisper. “You have to trust me. You know this is for the best. Can’t you see what I’ve done for you?”

  “You’ve done nothing for me.” Her words come out in a hiss, and I breathe deep to keep from reacting. I reach for her again, and she jolts away, snarling against my touch when I try to move the hair that sleep and struggle have plastered against her forehead..

  I sigh.

  “Would you have such disdain for me if you knew I was watching over your sister?”

  She goes still.

  “What.”

  I just stand there, watching her, smiling. Her entire face collapses and I know the relief that is coursing through her right now.

  “Lavender — ohmygod. No. No. What did you do?! Where is she?” Her eyes grow wild again and I can see her breath come out in spasms. I lift my hand to calm her.

  “She’s fine….because I’m watching her.” I smile. “Perhaps she should join us?”

  She starts shaking her head slowly at first, and then vehemently, the tears falling freely now. “Please no. Please leave her alone. Please. What do you want…what….I don’t….” her sobs come out in gut-wrenching waves, and I reach for the sedative again. As I push the needle into her skin, I kiss her cheek.

  “Don’t you get it, Juniper?” I answer her in soft whispers against the crest of her lips. She tries to turn her head away from me but is already too drugged. I lick a tear that has found its way down her cheek and she whimpers. I close my eyes against the taste and force myself to fight the urge to take her now.

  “Don’t you get it?” I repeat to no one in particular as I trace the kisses down her neck and where the line of her t-shirt grazes her breast.

  “I want all of you. Even her.”

  I kiss her softly as she fades into oblivion. As her breath evens out, I turn my mind back to you. I walk over to the monitors in the corner and press a few keys.

  They should have done a better job of checking your purse, Lavender. In between the threads of the designer leather, I dropped a camera. No one would have ever known.

  I smile as you step away from the hotel door and wipe the tears from your eyes. I have my eyes on you all over again.

  12

  I startle awake to a vibration under my hip. My hands grope my strange surroundings until I find my phone haphazardly pushed to the side. Waking up has so far been the absolute worst. For a few blissful moments, I remember
nothing — and then everything comes roaring back.

  Like why I’m lying on the floor in a hotel room, my cheeks still wet from crying myself to sleep. I groan and pull my phone up to see who in the world would be trying to reach me.

  My eyes are stiff and, for a moment, it stings when I look at the bright screen of my phone. I rub my eyes, yawning.

  I can see the midnight blue of the sky outside and know it’s late. Finally looking at my phone, I realize I’ve been asleep for a few hours. It’s just after 2:30am.

  I blink a few times, trying to focus on the messages filling my screen.

  One is from Stephanie: The edits look great. I know you’re out of town, but can we move the date up at all? I’m thinking next week? I can talk to Jack if I need to…

  I shake my head, refusing to lose a project at work to him. I respond quickly — who cares about the time stamp that will show up when she wakes tomorrow. If she’s even asleep. She’s as much of a night owl as I am.

  Next week is fine. Just give me specifics and I’ll push the design to our team.

  The other messages are from coworkers checking in and shipment notifications. I set up a voice reminder to call tomorrow when I’m more aware. As for my coworkers, I shoot them variations of the same message: hey. I’m fine. Thanks for checking in. Talk soon.

  When I’m done, I drop my hands by my sides and stare at the ceiling. It never ceases to amaze me how life continues to move when you feel absolutely frozen solid with grief.

  I sit up slowly and stretch the tightness out of my muscles, yawning as I make my way into the bathroom to finish unpacking my toiletries. This is the first time I’m really taking notice of my surroundings and I raise an eyebrow at the clawfoot tub. Out of the corner of my eye I notice full-size skin care products from a popular luxury brand — including three bath bombs. I grab one and unwrap it, setting it on the corner of the sink. It smells like lavender and almond. I close my eyes and breathe in the scent.

  A noise in the hallway makes my pulse quicken to double time, but the giggles and sounds of bodies running into the wall remind me of drunken college nights and I slow my breath.

  Despite knowing I’m alone in this room, it still feels as though someone is watching me. I glance toward the thin window lining the ceiling of the bathroom and realistically know there’s no way anyone can peep into that window and see what I’m doing.

  Even still…..

  I know Dan has some guys watching out for me, but they’re not….watching me are they? They can’t be…I thought it was just like, scouting or whatever. Sitting in their car and trying not to fall asleep and watching the door of the hotel for things that go bump in the night.… I laugh. What do I know. My extent of law knowledge comes from Brooklyn 99 episodes and the entire episodic library of CSI and Criminal Minds.

  It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to risk it. For reasons I can’t explain, I turn and shut the bathroom door before peeling off my clothes and dipping into the water, letting the bath bomb fizzle into foam and coat my skin. It feels luxurious. I take a few breaths, allowing my muscles to slowly melt with the heat and water, before reaching for my phone.

  There’s one thing I haven’t done.

  I adjust my neck against the edge of the tub and keep a towel close by to dry off my hands when needed. Once my set up is complete, I pull up Google and type in Juniper’s name.

  The results are vague. I tap on the search bar and edit my search to Juniper Reese, Providence RI and hit enter.

  This limits the results considerably. A few articles about the school are the top hits, along with her virtual yearbook photo from last year. Apparently her mathletes won a competition last year. I laugh at the picture — her wrapped around the students, absolutely glowing. It was clear she’d found her calling.

  Her forgotten Twitter account also rests at the top of the list, and I remember a conversation we had before she moved to Providence.

  “How are we going to keep in touch?”

  She rolled her eyes at me. “I don’t know, Lavender. Maybe phone calls? Texts?”

  I wrinkled my nose.

  “Can you at least create a private Instagram account so I can spy on your life and live vicariously through your decision to completely jump ship and abandon me?”

  She grabbed my hands.

  “First off, I’m not abandoning you. You know why I’m moving. Secondly, can you imagine my students finding any social media account of mine and thinking they can follow me or worse…be my friend?!” Her face had a look of unmistakable horror and disgust.

  She shook her head. “No. No. I’m not doing it. I can’t.”

  I run the edge of my fingers against the water and I think. If I were writing about my sister online, how would I describe her?

  A thought hits me and I pull at my bun in frustration because of course.

  I edit the search bar one more time.

  Ms.. Reese Sacred Heart Providence RI

  I glance through a few websites, scrolling as quickly as I can while trying to capture key phrases. I’m just about to give up when something catches my eye. It’s a blog with a pretty innocuous title — The Spotless Sunshine of a Teenage Mind — but it’s the excerpt with my sister’s name that stops me cold.

  Our first day of class was today and I found out I have Ms.. Reese for Pre-Cal. At first, it was just another class. I mean, I’ve seen her in the hallway and everything but didn’t really think anything of it. Until today.

  She is, by far, the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Her eyes pierce into your soul and you know she’s seeing you for who you really are. She smiled at me today and I could read between the lines: she feels it too.

  Senior year just got interesting.

  I sit upright in the tub, the water splashing over the sides.

  What the fuck?

  I click into the site, scrolling through post after post about my sister — dated as far back as August. One, in October, had me shaking my head in confusion.

  Ms.. Reese held me after class today to talk about my progress. I’ve been in her class for months and she’s never held me after, but I’ve seen her look at me a few times and it’s clear she feels what I feel. When we spoke, I could literally feel the electric current running between us. I can only imagine how it would feel if we actually got to touch.

  This student, whoever they are, catalogued every single interaction they had with Juniper. Even when they found out she was dating Simon.

  I walked into Ms. Reese’s classroom today and there was a man waiting for her. At first, I thought nothing of it. Teachers get visitors all the time. I asked him if he needed anything and he smiled and told me he was surprising HIS GIRLFRIEND and taking her to lunch. His girlfriend?! Does he even know who she is?! He doesn’t own her. He doesn’t even love her. Not like I do.

  Surely this wasn’t a coincidence. Looking into posts from previous years, it seems innocent. But since the beginning of the year, the purpose has largely become a diary outlining the mental gymnastics of a teenager in love with my sister.

  Some of these posts were detailed in their misrepresentation of how my sister would interact with her students. One even misconstrued her calling on someone else to help with a project as a direct snub and meant to cause jealousy. There’s no way I could send this to Dan yet, not without more context on who this could be — the last thing I need is for him to think Juniper was having some type of relationship with her student. We’ve already been down that road.

  I don’t want him getting the wrong idea.

  However, Simon and Jasper might be able to shed some light on who might be obsessed with my sister. I hesitate for just a moment before sending Simon a text. I haven’t even reached out to him since landing in Providence, and it’s for no other reason than it would just feel…awkward….talking to my sister’s ex. And maybe it’s not the best way to let him know I’m in town and surprise! my sister is missing, but it seems as good a time as any.

&
nbsp; I copy the website and pull up Simon’s number before I can second guess myself.

  Hey, Simon. I know it’s late and we haven’t spoken in a while. I’m not sure if you know or not, but Juniper’s missing. I’m currently in town trying to figure out where she might be. I found this blog by one of her students and I’m wondering if any of it rings a bell? Did she mention anything about a student who was, for lack of a better word, obsessed? I guess I should probably ask this, too: do you know where she is?

  I send Jasper a text as well.

  Look what I found. Who is writing this about my sister? Can you figure it out by process of elimination? I don’t know the students like you do.

  I hit send and then tap the phone against my chin before opening up my messages again.

  Also, sorry about tonight. I know I was more than a little cold. I’m just…dealing with a lot. This is all so surreal. I know you understand.

  I set my phone on the rug next to the tub and pull the hair tie out of my lion mane, massaging my scalp. And then I do my favorite thing in the world since I was a little girl: lying prostrate in the tub with only my face above the water. Here, completely immersed, the sound of water fills my ears and I can let go — if only for a moment — what’s happening outside. It’s always been this way. I close my eyes and let my mind empty for a moment. Water has always been my chosen element, which is why I could never live anywhere landlocked. In the water is where I feel most held. After a few moments of breathing and steadying my pulse, I fully submerge myself — a baptism of sorts. I’m still exhausted, but possess a little more mental clarity than before. I’m definitely still reeling from finding the blog online. I pull the drain and watch the water spin down as I towel dry. Before I can even get dressed, I notice my phone ringing.

  It’s Jasper.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Lavender. It’s me.”