I
watched X tidy up the kitchen. The routine was familiar, comforting in
its mundane, expected way. Every night, she cleans up before she goes to
bed. Oh, we won't even talk about that.
I've
been in that kitchen, of course. Smelled the warm aroma of clean, seen
the knives lined up like tin soldiers. Each appliance in its place, each
tool, each spoon, all in perfect harmony in her kitchen. Spotless,
sterile. Unlike her, actually. X is warm, strong, caring, loving. I know
this because… well, I just know. Dammit, don't doubt me. I just do.
She's
smiling now and the warmth passing through my body is nearly
uncontainable. It's as if she's looked me straight in the eye, her smile
an arrow through my heart… oh, I see. X's cat has jumped onto the
counter, is flicking its tail under her perfectly formed chin. She runs
her hand along the kitty's back, purses her lips in a croon, then grabs
her around the middle and sweeps her onto the floor. Okay, so I know the
cat is a girl. Yes, I know her name. It's Pumpkin, which, if truth be
told, I find a bit beneath this particular woman. Surely a creature so
exotic, so perfect can come up with a more original name. But that
really makes no difference. All that matters is X, and what matters to
her, matters to me.
The
idiot creature had gotten out for an instant, slunk out the back door
when X had her head turned. X had flown onto the deck, screamed
“Pumpkin!” with such a note of panic in her voice that I had to stop
and stare. How could she care so much for such an inconsequential
creature? The cat must have sensed it as well, for she froze in the
fallen leaves, glanced about once or twice, then turned and scurried
back up the stairs and straight into the house.
I
watched as X stood, hand to her throat, chest heaving slightly, the
crisis averted. She looked at me then, unrealizing, then returned
indoors, barring the door securely behind her. An unlocked door or
window would never lead me to this prize. X is too smart to be careless
like that. A challenge, to say the least.
It
began so simply. Just a brief flash of a smile, no teeth showing, lips
compressed but turned up at the corners of her mouth. Gray blue eyes
snapped my direction, then slid away before she actually focused on me.
She walked so tall, her ponytail bouncing as she stepped lightly toward
her car. The day was warm and she was dressed for the gym, long legs and
Nikes. I stepped close enough to catch her scent, coming from, rather
than going to. I imagined her there, glistening beneath the television
sets. The deep richness of her scent invaded my senses permanently. Even
now, all I have to do is conjure that image and she's there, in me, with
me.
I
was lost. I knew, at that moment, I had to have her.
Watching
was enough, at first. I wondered what she thought about in those
unguarded moments. Lost in a task, staring out the window, was X
dreaming of me? Wanting that slight edge that's missing from her life?
The
neighborhood dogs are a nightmare. They bark and bark. It's like being
in a kennel. Are they yapping at me? Perhaps. Maybe they're just so
stupid that the slightest scent, the tiniest whisper of a breeze catches
their imaginations and the respond as only a dog can, with immediate and
incessant barking. There is one in particular, a deep-throated WOOF
that I know drives X mad. I hear the dog start and see her roll her
eyes, wondering how long the stupid beast will go on. Sometimes it will
bark for hours, the chorus of hounds around the rest of the neighborhood
chiming in for a midday serenade. I can tell it annoys her. I can only
do one thing. If it will make my love happy, I will do it now.
* *
*
The
screaming is unbearable. Oh, how could X misconstrue my gift? I don't
mean to scare her. Dear God, I love her! I want her. I need her.
* *
*
Apparently
all the women in the neighborhood have been on edge. I hear them
whispering to X. They don't feel safe. They are afraid of what lurks in
the night. They are afraid of me.
I
hear the men talking amongst themselves. They don't want to scare the
wives.
“What
kind of animal could do such a thing?”
“Must
have been a bear. That's a big dog to have been taken down by that pack
of coyotes that's been hanging around.”
“A
bear, in these woods? We're residential on three sides. Do you really
think one could get this far into town?”
“I'd
think anything is possible. They get hungry enough, they'll go where the
food is.”
“But
if it was a bear, it didn't eat the dog. Just tore it up.”
“Maybe
it was injured, saw the dog as a threat and attacked.”
On
cue, the group stared at me, lurking in their woods. They didn't see me,
of course. But I shifted a bit, sending the birds on the limb next to me
catapulting into the air, just to let them know I'm here.
* *
*
It
was when X saw me, that first time, when her eyes grew wide and her hand
went to her mouth to stifle a scream, or perhaps a knowing smile. That's
when the men congregated again, and decided to end my days.
I'll
never forget how stunning she was at that moment. She'd come to the
fencerow to plant some bulbs. She had a basket filled with tulips,
hyacinths and paper whites, was wearing a soft oyster colored fleece
vest that perfectly matched the shade of her eyes, sensible gardening
shoes covering her bare feet. It was warming so nicely during the day.
Who could blame her for wanting to get out, to breathe in the fresh air?
To taste the forthcoming softness on the breeze. Winter was finally
passing, and it hadn't been mild. Not that I minded, just the sight of
her behind those quarter-paned windows had given me warmth and strength.
But to have her here, in the flesh, while delightful, was unexpected.
I
admit I didn't handle the encounter well. All these months, waiting for
the perfect opportunity, and when it presented itself… I ran. Our eyes
met, and I panicked. Thrashed off into the woods, making enough noise
that the replacement dog next door started a howling cadence and was
immediately matched with four other wails, one of which came from deep
within X's beautiful breast. I turned for a moment in my flight and saw
her back, fleeing into the safety of the house. Damn.
So
our idyllic time came to an end. The men returned, this time armed. They
forced their way into the forest. Found my camp. Poked through my
belongings. Admitted to themselves that there was no way a bear could
have made such a spectacular fire pit and hearth. But I was gone, well
ahead of them. I wouldn't be back anytime soon. Give them some time to
get over it. Let them call the police, search the area. Realize that I'm
no longer there.
I
will bide my time. X is worth it. I want her so much. I just can't live
without her. And now, I don't have to. The new windows, the new kitchen,
everything is as it was. We're just in a new town, with new woods.
I
am every bump in her night. Every creak of a pipe. Every time a dog
barks, she knows it is because they sense my presence. I am the hair
that sticks up on the back of her neck. The unexplained feeling of dread
that overwhelms her, making her glance over her shoulder. I am her
nightmares and her day terrors. And I love her so very, very much.
Copyright 2006 by
J.T. Ellison
JT Ellison is a
1991 graduate of Randolph-Macon Woman's College with degrees in English
and Politics, and received her Master's Degree in Political Management
from The George Washington University in 1994. After
a fateful afternoon with John Sandford's RULES OF PREY, Ellison decided
to pursue her passion, forensics and crime. She writes a Nashville based
thriller series. Her first short story, PRODIGAL ME, won an Honorable
Mention in the 2006 Writer's Digest Popular Fiction Awards, and she is a
contributor to Flashing in the Gutters. X is her first published short
story.
Ellison
blogs at Murderati.com.
See her website at www.publishersmarketplace.com
/members/JTEllison
for more information on her work.
.
