Chapter 13
Beth
Sighing, I sink onto the couch after putting Ben in his little bed and saying goodbye to Veronica. I'm glad the little guy is finally asleep. He's been pretty fussy ever since I came up from the shop after the encounter with Alex and a helpless Veronica handed me a screaming Ben.
He didn't want to eat, didn't want to sleep, and was difficult to soothe even in my arms. Just as I was on the verge of calling a doctor's hotline, it finally worked.
He fell asleep right on my bare chest, as if he needed to smell his food source to know he was really with me.
Guilt promptly set in. Maybe I really haven't been there for him enough lately, or maybe Ben has very fine-tuned antennas and can sense how agitated I am, and that's why he doesn't want to leave my side.
I had to say goodbye to Veronica shortly after, as her shift was about to start. I only told her what had happened in passing. She looked worried, but still had a few encouraging words ready, though of course, no solution. How could she? I didn't even know what to make of it all myself.
BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ
My smartphone vibrates on the table in front of me, pulling me back from my thoughts. I reach for the device and grab the remote at the same time, because tonight I want to watch some cheesy romance and push this whole thing out of my mind for a few hours.
But the message on my smartphone makes me clutch the remote in my other hand even tighter, because it's from Alex.
I know you don't want to talk. I want to explain it to you. She just exposed herself in front of my door and pressed herself against me and...
The message keeps going. I stop reading, just skimming a few words like photographer, prank, unhappy, put the phone aside, and turn on the TV.
But my thoughts are still on the message, and I can barely concentrate on the plot of the romance movie.
What does Alex think? That I'm that gullible? Probably, since it worked a year ago. But at least he's sticking to his "it's-her-fault" story, though I'm not quite buying it.
Just when I was starting to believe him about his disappearance last year, something happens again that's supposedly the same person's fault.
Of course, he never does anything wrong.
He's the rich one, the attractive one, the.
.. Yes, damn it: Why does he have to be so damn good-looking, and why is he now ruining my enjoyment of a movie?
When the two actors against the backdrop of Ireland's cliffs and with dramatic music, finally fall into each other's arms and kiss passionately after having been separated, I can't take it anymore. I turn it off.
I grab my smartphone again, this time reading the entire message and wondering why he's going to all this trouble. Why can't he just admit he made a mistake? Then I see that three more messages have arrived in the meantime.
This sounds completely crazy, I know.
He's right about that, very right!
Then the next message: I can imagine how you feel.
Can you really? How would a rich playboy know what it feels like to think you're being cheated on?
The third message, in contrast, is much more demanding again. The typical Alex, it seems to me: I hope we can have our dinner again. It was very nice.
I wonder what I should reply to that. I'm already typing, and my first drafts keep fluctuating between an accusatory tone, a few curse words, or a description of how I feel, but none of it feels right, so I delete it all.
In the end, I decide on the easiest and hardest option at the same time: I write nothing.
As I put my phone aside, I feel exhaustion wash over me.
When I look at the clock, I can hardly believe it, because it's actually still quite early.
But then I remember last night, and I decide to use the time to lie down right next to the sleeping Ben, hoping that Alex at least won't show up in my dreams.
******
The next few days continue in the same vein. More and more messages that I ignore, although it's difficult, because in some strange way, he is trying to win me over and doesn't want to just let the whole thing go.
At least I'm spared another encounter with him, although I tremble a little every time the door opens and a new male customer comes in whose face I don't see right away because he's closing his umbrella or has a hat pulled down low over his face.
But neither he nor that insufferable person named Dilara shows up here again.
Two days later, I almost believe the ordeal is over and I can lead a normal life again.
As normal as it can be for a single mother with a flower shop whose sales are steadily dropping and who can't afford more than one part-time employee.
But I'm not even left with that, because Paula, my part-time help, has made it clear to me that the constant, short-notice changes to her work hours are making her consider changing jobs.
Paula is good at what she does. Reliable, conscientious, and I try to accommodate her, although it's difficult because I don't adjust her work hours for fun, but try to align them with my nursing times and the times when I can't rely on Veronica.
Of course, I can understand Paula. She's a good soul.
You don't find someone like that everywhere.
Especially not for just a few hours. When I think of the three attempts before I hired her.
.. I was almost ready to give up, but Paula was a godsend.
I don't want to lose her. That's why I'm standing in my shop late this afternoon, having set up Ben's bassinet next to the counter.
I hold him as often as I can while I work on orders or serve customers, and I'm meticulously careful about washing my hands in between.
I feel pretty drained and wonder how things are supposed to continue.
What's going to happen when Ben outgrows the bassinet?
How am I supposed to manage it all? A nanny would make sense, or a daycare facility.
But not when he's still so little, and besides, most of them cost a ton of money.
I've run the numbers, and every scenario ends up with a big deficit, so for now, it stays like this, and I just try to get through each day.
BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ
My smartphone shows another message from Alex. The first one today. Since Ben is asleep and there are no customers in the shop, I pick up the device and wonder how he's going to explain it today.
But to my surprise, there's no text at all. Just a video. I scroll down; there's another video. And after that, a short text: Recorded by my intercom camera. The idea only occurred to me today. The first is the original. The second has enhanced audio.
My fingers tremble as I realize what I'm looking at. Could he have been telling the truth after all? As I wait for the videos to download, I feel bad and wonder why I didn't want to believe him.
Calm down, Beth. Don't jump to conclusions. Just watch the videos first, I tell myself in my head.
Then I play the videos. Both show the same thing. In the second one, the sound is a little better, as he said.
It's exactly as he said. In the first one, the voices are only muffled, but it's clearly visible what Dilara does after his current assistant goes inside to get Alex. She unbuttons her blouse and gestures wildly to someone out of frame. You can hear her say, "Take as many pictures as you can."
After that, everything unfolds exactly as Alex explained it to me. On the second video too, except the voices are even clearer. He probably didn't want to take any risks, sending me the original and the enhanced version so I wouldn't accuse him of hiding something from me again.
My thoughts are racing, because this changes everything, and I wonder how I should react now. I can't leave these videos unanswered.
"Hey, sweetie. I wanted to stop by before my shift to see how you're doing and..." I hear Veronica's voice, look up, and wonder how I didn't even notice her opening the shop door. I must have been completely captivated by the video.
"What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost. Was HE here again? Just say the word and I'll..." Veronica says, looking around as if she wants to see if Alex is hiding somewhere.
"Worse," I say weakly, holding out my phone to her. "He was right. About everything."
"Hmm," Veronica says. "You think it's real? You can fake anything with AI these days," she says thoughtfully.
"I don't know. It looks pretty real. The image quality.
The sound. That's typical for an intercom.
The angle of the recording fits, too...," I say, pausing as it occurs to me why I know that so precisely.
I've stood in front of that door too, in front of those exact stairs where it all began, and I know only too well where exactly the intercom is mounted.
Everything from back then has been practically burned into my brain.
"Yeah, that's true," Veronica says thoughtfully.
"Maybe what he said is true and I should..." I pause as the door opens behind me.
"You don't have to do anything, Beth. I would just be happy if we could talk again," says Alex, who must have been waiting somewhere outside before sending the message.
I feel hot and cold all at once as I see him, and then I realize what this must look like, with Ben's bassinet here next to the counter.
"I... uh..." I stammer, glancing back and forth between Veronica and Alex with a beet-red face.
"Thanks for watching him. I'm just going to take him upstairs and change him, okay?
" says Veronica, who thinks on her feet, for which I'm grateful, but it also weaves the web of lies even tighter.
Of course, she didn't say he was her son.
But I know what it must look like as she gently lifts him from the bassinet, strokes him, and takes him upstairs.
"I have to tell you something, Beth. Something really important. I don't want anything else to stand between us," Alex says, coming closer, and my knees involuntarily begin to tremble.
"Yes?" I croak, wondering what he could possibly want to tell me. Something about the video? Something else? And what am I supposed to do about the secret that just disappeared up the stairs?