Chapter 14 Him
Him
Then
I’ve been watching you for three weeks, my dark-haired Raven.
At first it was strange, focusing my attentions on someone else.
I was with Jade for so long that it felt almost like cheating.
Sometimes it still does. I have to remind myself that she is good with you taking her place.
After all, she brought us together. I’m sure of it.
She didn’t want me to be lonely, which is why she put you in my path, showed me your tattoo.
She knew I would understand what it meant.
Now I’m standing in the shadows opposite where you live, because you will be coming out soon. I’ve observed you at every opportunity since I trailed you from the coffee shop and onto the train that first day—followed you home to an apartment building that puts my own humble abode to shame.
Since then, I’ve gotten to know your routines pretty well.
Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday you work at Cindy’s Closet, a vintage clothing store on Newbury Street, from noon to 8:00 p.m. You don’t need the job.
It’s more of a lifestyle thing, I’m sure.
Because no one with a pad like yours in such a fancy building could afford to work so few hours in a place like that unless they were doing it for something other than the money.
But it’s okay. I like that you have a work ethic. It gives you character.
On Saturday evenings you go out for drinks with friends.
A young woman with mousy blond hair and a nose too big for her face and a short, tubby one with a bad complexion.
Last time you met them, I sat at the far end of the bar and watched the three of you drink martinis and gossip like a bunch of adolescent schoolgirls, tittering and leaning close when you spoke as if you were imparting wicked secrets to each other.
Last weekend, you were laughing so hard that at one point I swear tears were running down your face.
There was an open table right next to you, and I wanted to know what was so funny.
I almost grabbed my drink, got up from my spot at the back of the bar, and took it, but I didn’t dare.
It was too soon. You might have noticed me, and I wasn’t ready for that. Not then.
But now I think it’s time we get better acquainted.
I follow when you come out of your building, hurry down the steps, and walk along the sidewalk.
I cross the road and pick up the pace, anxious not to lose sight of you, even though I know your destination.
You are a few steps ahead of me, oblivious to my presence, even though I’ve been close to you so many times over the past few weeks.
If you were a more mindful person, you might have noticed me.
But you live in that blissful world occupied by the innocent.
You aren’t looking at the faces of those around you, searching for the ones who might do you harm, because nothing awful has ever happened to you, and you don’t believe that it ever will.
Or maybe you just don’t think about it at all. That’s the beauty of innocence.
We’ve been walking for a quarter of an hour, and you’re almost at work.
I can see the store up ahead. It opens at noon, and you—the conscientious employee—are ten minutes early, as usual.
I know what will happen next. You will duck into the alley between buildings and go to the rear door—the one marked Private—unlock it, and go inside.
Then, at the stroke of noon, you will open the store.
You will be alone, because whoever owns this place doesn’t need two employees working at the same time.
You’re not that busy. Which is perfect, because today feels right, and I don’t like witnesses. I don’t like them one little bit.