“Why?”
“Let’s just say there is an unusual theme going on and I’d like Isabel’s take on it. Will you trust us to do what’s best for you?”
Amy looked out the window. It had started to drizzle and the streetlights looked blurry. Wasn’t there a saying, “April showers bring May flowers?” Well, it was almost June. It had no right to be raining. It was like the weather was mocking her dilemma. Feeling blue? I will make it rain for you. She pondered her predicament. “How bad is so bad you don’t want me to see it?”
More silence, then, “Will you please let me do it my way?”
Amy started to argue then hesitated. Did she really want to know what a creepy guy Chad was? Did she really want to examine the psyche of a man she’d gone to bed with and find out that he was truly a nut-job? Did love do this to him or was he already crazy? Did love make an otherwise sane person crazy? Maybe she should steer clear of the whole thing? What was she going to do if Jordan did dump her? Was she going to go all wacko-stalker-psycho on her?
They drove in silence. They went through three green lights and still there was more silence. Amy couldn’t contain herself any longer. “How bad was it? Bad like there’s small animals crucified on his bedposts bad?” Amy asked.
“No. Not that bad,” Edison said, brightly.
“That’s good to know,” Amy said. Of course, a moment later she realized it was both good and bad. It was good in the sense that Chad hadn’t resorted to mutilating and sacrificing small animals. It was bad in the sense that he might not have hit bottom yet. His mutilating days could still be in front of him. “Yippee,” Amy thought, tiredly. “Yip-fuckin-eee.”
Shrine Amy
Edison led Amy and Isabel back to the third floor lab. They were very quiet – too quiet, Amy thought. Edison hooked up her video and began to download it to her computer. Amy and Isabel watched quietly. When the download was complete, Edison glanced over at Isabel. “You need to take her to the other room while I work on this.”
Amy stood her ground. “No. I have a right to see it. It’s about me.”
“In a few minutes,” Edison said. Isabel took her by the wrist arm and half led, half-dragged her into the next room. “Sit,” she said, and pushed her into a tattered Barcalounger complete with cup holder that had been duct-taped to one arm. “Don’t move. Try to relax. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Isabel patted her on the head and left, shutting the door behind her. Amy sat on tenterhooks. She didn’t know what tenterhooks were exactly but they sounded uncomfortable and she certainly was that.
A few moments later, the door squeaked open and she almost jumped out of her skin. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw it was only Mr. Pip. He lazily looked her over as he sauntered by.
“You started all this. I hope you realize that,” Amy said.
Mr. Pip swished his tail and gave her a good look at his ass as he left the room by another door.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, same to you,” Amy said.
Isabel stood in the open doorway. “Who are you talking to?”
“Mr. Pip.”
Isabel looked concerned. She spoke in a voice Amy had heard people use on crazy or old people. “Who’s Mr. Pip? Your imaginary friend?”
“No. He’s the cat.”
Isabel looked around the room. When she didn’t see a cat, she smiled and patted Amy on the arm. “Is he an imaginary cat?”
“Don’t be silly,” Amy said. “He was here. And then he wasn’t.”
“Like the Cheshire Cat?”
“For God’s sake,” Amy said, rising and walking toward the door. “I’m going to get a look at this video.”
Isabel grabbed Amy’s shoulder, stopping her. “I don’t think you should see it.”
“What is on that thing? What has he done? Is it creepy? Should I be afraid?” Amy felt frantic and sick to her stomach. What were they hiding from her?
Isabel took a deep breath. “He has a lot of pictures of you.”
Amy digested this. “That’s not so weird.”
“And by a lot, I mean hundreds.”
“Hundreds of pictures of me?”
Isabel nodded. “Afraid so.”
“My mother doesn’t even have hundreds of pictures of me.” Amy couldn’t imagine where he’d gotten the photos. She sucked in her breath. What if he’d taken pictures of her while she was conked out. “Please tell they weren’t naked ones.”
“No.”
“Okay, well then it isn’t that bad. I want to see the video.”
“Sweetie,” Isabel said. “It’s kind of creepy. You might want to let it go. The video is more than enough to convince Jordan that Chad is the stalker and that you weren’t planning to marry him.”
“I want to see it.” Amy marched into Edison’s lab. She walked straight up to Edison who sat hunched over the computer keyboard and said, “Show me.”
Edison looked at Isabel. Isabel nodded, saying, “Show her.”
Edison clicked a few keys and the video feed started.
Amy thought she was prepared to see the video. She thought she would see an Amy shrine. Maybe a few photos thumb-tacked to the walls. Nothing could have prepared her to see every wall, every table, every surface completely papered with her face. Wallpaper, pillows, throw blankets were all decorated with collages of her smiling face. It was worse than the Duck Dynasty line of interior decorating.
Once she got her breath back, she said, “How could he have gotten so many pictures of me?” She pointed at a picture that showed her and Jordan getting in her Smart car. “Did he hire someone to watch me?”
“From what I can ascertain these look like they were taken at work functions,” Edison said, pointing to a cake in the break room in one of the photos. “And these are more I’m-a-creepy-stalker-following-you pictures.”
“He was following me this whole time?”
“Apparently. And here he is taking pics of his handiwork. The signs in the yard. Irma stomping the flaming dog doody. Here’re several of Jordan’s slashed bike tires. And there’s a whole bunch of you two making out.”
Isabel put her arm around Amy’s shoulder. “We’ll put a restraining order on him and send HR at the hospital an anonymous tip with accompanying video. That should get him to leave you alone.”
“I don’t want him to just leave me alone. I want him gone,” Amy said through gritted teeth. She felt violated. Somebody had been watching her in her most private intimate moments. She felt vulnerable and scared. She underscored what she felt with one word. “Gone.”
“Understood,” Edison said. “Do you think you’ll be safe at home tonight?”
Isabel said, “I texted Jeremy. He said Chad is gone from the premises and he’s changing the locks on the doors right now. We’ll take turns keeping watch. We’ll be safe.”
Edison and Isabel talked in hushed tones as they walked to Isabel’s car.
Amy was so stunned by what she’d seen that her mind didn’t seem able to process everything. She felt as if she were walking upstream against a strong current.
Edison opened Isabel’s door for her. Isabel got behind the wheel, started the car and powered down her window.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Edison said.
“I can’t wait,” Isabel whispered breathlessly.
Amy got in the passenger seat and looked up at the house at Jordan’s dark window. “This will all be over with by tomorrow,” she said out loud. But even she could hear the doubt in her own voice.
Elvis Has Left the Building
Amy didn’t hear from Jordan the next day. Or the day after that. She had checked her phone for missed calls or texts approximately one hundred and seventy-eight times. She had called Edison at least twenty times each day. Edison reassured her that she was still trying to track Jordan and Irma down. But like Edison said, “If Irma wants to go off the grid, there was no way she’d be found.”