Chapter Thirty-Six
Thirty-Six
Natalie
It was another effortless night watching Gwen.
Painting Pots, then back to her apartment.
Natalie wished Gwen would do something different.
Go on a date, find a new hobby, change jobs.
The ease with which Natalie could watch her at Painting Pots was, for the first time, starting to feel monotonous.
When she didn’t have to think about Gwen, it was harder for Natalie to ignore the people in the house.
After a couple of hours, Gwen finally went to bed and Natalie headed home.
There was a car in the garage. Natalie climbed the stairs into her apartment, but once inside, she didn’t go to the window.
She didn’t want to think about the car or the fact that it meant someone was in the house.
Instead, she went into the bathroom to wash her face, turning the knob on the sink and letting the water run.
It took a minute for the shoddy garage pipes to heat the water, and while she waited, she picked at the dry skin around her nostrils.
As she passed her hand under the stream, testing the temperature, feeling it cross the threshold into lukewarm, there was a knock at the door.
Natalie hit the faucet to cut off the water. Then it was silent. She waited. Maybe it wasn’t a knock; maybe the wind had tipped something over in the garage. Then she heard it again. It was definitely someone knocking on her door.
She left the bathroom with nothing but her clenched fists and opened the door to a man in a pristine white baseball hat, fitted joggers, and a quarter-zip. His hands were tucked in his pockets and if he was dangerous, it wasn’t presenting as an immediate threat.
“Hi,” he blurted out with a sheepish smile.
“Hi,” said Natalie.
“I’m sorry, I know it’s late, but you’re a hard person to run into. You must be a busy lady.” He waited a beat as if he had asked a question but then regrouped. “I’m sorry, I’m Wesley. I moved into the house last week.” He held out his hand.
“Natalie,” she said, meeting his hand. She wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t really talk to anyone, let alone in the middle of the night in her apartment—her safe space.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized again, the third time in twenty seconds. “I suppose it’s kind of rude for me to show up so late. I swear, my intentions are noble. I just wanted to introduce myself since I rented the place through the summer. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to knock on the door.”
“Thanks,” Natalie managed.
“Okay, great. Well, I’ll leave you alone. It was nice to meet you, Natalie. Hopefully I’ll see you around once in a while.”
Natalie assembled a small smile and Wesley backed away from the door, not turning until he reached the stairs, where he spun around and jogged down them. Natalie closed the door and inhaled. A nice neighbor doing a nice thing and she’d handled it like a normal person.
She didn’t bother going back to her bathroom routine and instead climbed directly into bed. She stretched the blankets up over her shoulders and closed her eyes.
As her body relaxed, so did her mind—not in a way that brought peace, but in a way that brought clarity.
There was someone in the house and not just for the weekend.
A man she didn’t know anything about. A man who came to her door uninvited in the dark.
Natalie sat up in bed. She couldn’t see anything through the curtains.
It wasn’t a conscious decision, but she found herself at the window, pulling the curtain back—barely enough to peer through.
Wesley was in his bedroom now; she had a direct view across the driveway, not obstructed by any curtains or shades.
He paced around the room, typing on his phone with purpose, still fully dressed, looking exactly like he had at her doorstep.
Finally he flung the phone down on the bed and reached for the waistband on his pants. Natalie averted her eyes. She wasn’t like that. She waited before looking back, but when she did…
Wesley was at the window.
Can he see me? Is he looking at me?
- - - - -
It had been almost a week since Wesley had come to her door, and Natalie sat in her car outside Painting Pots.
It had been a long day at work and she hadn’t been sleeping well.
There was a fog in her brain that could almost let her relax, but when Gwen walked out in a striped blouse with her hair down, Natalie knew she wasn’t headed home, and it was like a shot of adrenaline.
Natalie sat up in her seat. She grabbed for the keys in the ignition, but when Gwen walked right past her own car, Natalie froze.
Gwen was headed toward the train station. She must be going into the city. It had to be a date. Why else would she be going into the city looking so nice?
Natalie hopped out of her car and hustled to the trunk.
She rummaged around searching for something warm she could put on over her baggy long-sleeve T-shirt.
She ripped open a thin trash bag full of old clothes she had been meaning to drop off at Goodwill.
She knew there was a black fleece in there.
The inside lining had completely worn through, but at least it was something.
She wasn’t sure if Goodwill would even accept it, but she didn’t have the heart to throw it away.
That’s why the bag had remained in the trunk; every time she debated pulling up to the donation center, she worried they would tell her everything she had was trash, so ugly and worn that not even a person in need would want it.
She found the thing and zipped it all the way up. It was better than nothing. She slammed the trunk and ran out of the parking lot, slowing to a normal pace once Gwen was in sight.
The train was always tricky for Natalie. She couldn’t very well ride in the same car as Gwen—public transportation inspired stares, the dense crowd failing to provide cover, instead giving people the confidence that their gaze could go unnoticed.
Natalie boarded the car in front of Gwen’s, staying at the door, standing and ready to disembark in an instant.
There were really only a few stops she had to worry about if Gwen was headed downtown and not looking to switch trains.
When the train stopped at State Street, Natalie caught a glimpse of Gwen’s brown hair on the platform and lunged off the train, pushing through the people who had already started boarding.
Natalie ascended the stairs out of the stifling underground station and into the fresh, cold air.
She tucked her hands into the coat pockets, feeling the scratchy remnants of the liner.
Gwen’s jacket looked much warmer, and when she paused to zip it, Natalie shielded her face, pretending to check her phone. Then Gwen was on the move again.
Natalie stayed close, but not too close, a distance she practically had down to a science at this point. Gwen cut through a few side streets and crossed a main intersection on her way toward Faneuil Hall. Natalie’s teeth were chattering; where was spring?
Ultimately, Gwen dipped into a bar off Congress Street and Natalie slowed in front of the window.
It was crowded inside, full of the after-work crowd.
Tall bar tables lined the windows; Natalie couldn’t get away with standing there all night, noticeably gawking, not that she could tolerate the cold much longer anyway.
She didn’t have much of a choice; if she wanted to watch, she had to go inside.
Natalie took a deep breath and pulled open the door, a cacophony of conversation pouring into the street. The door closed behind her, sealing her inside with the people and their gossip or their flirting or their complaining—whatever was making all that noise.
She scanned the room for Gwen and found her sitting at one of the tall tables near the bar.
Across from her was her date. He didn’t look too threatening.
He seemed to be around their age, too young and single to own a house.
No house meant no basement. No basement meant no dungeon.
There wasn’t much else for Natalie to surmise from first appearances.
She found a seat on the opposite side of the bar, facing them but slightly obstructed by four guys huddled around two stools.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked, sliding a cocktail napkin in front of her.
She ordered a club soda and settled in for what would probably be two or three drinks on Gwen’s end.
- - - - -
He talked a lot. Way more than Gwen. Probably an 80-20 split. And he kept touching her hand. Stop touching her hand, Natalie thought. She doesn’t like to be touched like that; she pulls it away every time. Gwen excused herself to go to the bathroom, probably to wash her hands, maybe just to pee.
The date sat alone now. Their drinks were empty, waiting on the waitress. He pulled his phone from his pocket, checked something, then slipped it back in.
“Excuse me,” a voice came, penetrating Natalie’s bubble.
She turned to see a man standing there.
“Yeah?” she said, trying to keep her eye on Gwen’s date.
“Is this seat taken?” He pointed next to her.
“No,” she said, watching the waitress arrive at Gwen’s table with another round of drinks. No sign of Gwen.
“Are you here alone?” He kept talking as he sat, but she ignored him.
“Hey!” he barked, startling her.
Natalie’s whole body tensed as she whipped her head around to the man, unsure what was happening or what she would have to do.
“Sorry,” he said. “I thought you couldn’t hear me.”
Natalie gave the slightest smile to forgive and hopefully dismiss the man before looking back to Gwen’s table. The date was pulling his hand away from Gwen’s drink.
Why was he touching her drink? Natalie wondered. Maybe the waitress mixed them up? Maybe she put it down too close to him? Maybe he slipped something in there when Natalie wasn’t looking?
Gwen reappeared, smiling politely as she climbed back onto her stool. She put her hand around her glass and brought the tiny straw to her lips. Natalie held her breath. Gwen didn’t drop dead, not yet at least, and Natalie exhaled.
They finished their drinks. He was still reaching for Gwen’s hand.
Maybe it was a nervous tic; he was doing it so frequently.
Gwen pulled her hand back and rubbed her forehead.
She didn’t look good. She was flushed, taking deep breaths, leaning her elbow on the table. Her posture was flimsy and weak.
Gwen slid off the stool. She was going to the bathroom again. She’d just been to the bathroom. Something was happening to her. Her drink.
The guy adjusted in his seat. He glanced around the bar. What are you looking for? Natalie wondered.
He got off his stool and stood next to the table; his eyes were shifting all over the place.
Natalie crawled her fingers over to an abandoned plate at the seat next to her, the fatty edges of a steak waiting to be bused away. She grabbed the knife and slipped it under the bar.
The date started walking. He was headed toward the bathroom. He was looking for Gwen. He was going after her.
Natalie jumped off her stool. She was on the move. She gripped the knife.
He turned the corner into the hallway where the bathrooms were and Natalie lost sight of him. She shoved a couple of people out of the way, picking up her pace. She rounded the corner, crashing directly into the date.
“What the hell?!” he exclaimed. He was standing at the waitress stand, next to the kitchen, talking to their waitress, getting the check.
“Sorry,” Natalie muttered, confronted with the reality of the situation. She turned and ran out, dropping the knife on a random table.
She burst into the street. What was I thinking? What was I doing?
Natalie waited in an ATM vestibule across the street until Gwen and the man left the restaurant.
When they parted ways at the entrance to the train station with a peck on the cheek, it cemented Natalie’s overreaction.
Her fantasy of being some kind of savior had almost ruined everything.
She had nearly stabbed the man with a steak knife. She had to be better.
The train ride back to her car was agonizing. If Natalie couldn’t control herself, she’d need to adjust, but she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to have to wait in her car all the time because she couldn’t trust herself anywhere else. Her own actions were betraying her, like they always did.
Natalie drove down Gwen’s street. Her car was in the driveway and there was a light on in the bathroom window. Gwen was inside. She was safe; there was no use in Natalie staying until Gwen went to bed. Natalie hadn’t been sleeping well. It was affecting her temperament. Maybe that’s all it was.
She didn’t want to admit to herself the real reason she wasn’t sleeping well.
She was watching the man in the house. She was lying awake, wondering if he was watching her too.