10. Dread

ten

Dread

Amanda

I must have dozed off on the couch earlier watching TV. The sun no longer fills the house with natural light. Instead, it splashes dark shadows across the room and up the walls. Above me it sounds like a door creaked open, except no one else is here. It’s the first time I’ve been home alone since my incident. I thought it would feel good to have some space back after being smothered for a week, except now there’s too much space. There’s too much empty, and I don’t want to be alone. I take a deep breath. Everything is okay. You’re just freaking yourself out, I think to myself. I desperately wish I could time travel to the end of the day, to the part where he comes home so we can curl up with one another and I can sleep against him while he works from his tablet. Consistency has been nice, having a structured schedule, even if it is a schedule full of nothing, has been nice. It doesn’t always have to be a schedule full of nothing, though. I could find a purpose for my time. I also like working at the hospital and giving back to the community. Maybe I could cut back to part time. He’s not even here keeping me company, and he’s in my head trying to convince me to just let him take care of me.

Groaning, I check the time again. It will be dark soon. The sun is already dropping and painting shadows all over the house. My pumpkin spice-scented candle flickers on the coffee table, casting more shadows. It’s my cue to flip on all the lights in the living room, entryway, and kitchen. As I flip on the light in the entryway, I swear I hear what sounds like footsteps in the room above me. I scurry to the kitchen to pull out a knife and listen. When ten minutes have passed, I decide to return to the living room. I pull a blanket out of the bin and cozy back up on the couch. My heart is hammering away in my chest while my thoughts run away into a panicked frenzy of imaginary what if scenarios. All I’m doing is scaring myself more. The silence of the house must be getting to me. Anxiety is so much fun—not. I think with a sigh.

I turn on a not-scary Halloween movie and grab my phone for a little doom scrolling to distract me from my thoughts. I just need something else to think about for a little while until he comes home. Only one more hour, and in a little while I’ll order us a pizza so I can surprise him with dinner and a movie. I’m sure his first day back at the office was grueling and even though I know he loves to cook for me, I don’t want him to feel like he needs to.

There’s a loud commotion outside. The garbage cans clang over, landing on the cement in the alley. I run to the window, snatching the blinds open enough to peer out of the gap I just created. It’s only dusk, so there’s still some light out. I wait patiently to see if anything or anyone emerges. It’s not uncommon for stray animals to forage in the trash this time of year. It could be a cat or even my neighbor. I laugh nervously. I’m about to chalk it up to my imagination when a man-sized person in a black hoodie stands up, looks around the alley, then bolts off in the opposite direction. He looks back over his shoulder and I swear I spot the laces and the mask from the other night. My body shudders and I squint out the window, trying to catch another glimpse, but whoever it was is gone. I can’t say for sure that I saw a mask, but it’s definitely all I can think about as I back away to check the locks on the back and front doors. I wrap the blanket around me protectively; the way a child might in order to feel safe while watching a scary movie, but it does little to comfort me or protect me from the terrors of the real world.

My phone buzzes. It’s a text. He’s on his way home. I stare at the message for a few minutes, trying to decide whether or not I should tell him about the alley or what I think I saw. After intense deliberation, I decide not to. It was his first day back; I don’t want to worry him or make him feel any guiltier than I’m sure he already does. Tonight is going to be a nice night, I think as I rewind my movie to where I left off and order the pizza. He should be home before the pizza gets here, which means I won’t have to worry about being too afraid to open the door for the delivery person. Get a grip, Amanda. I silently scold, frustrated by my amplified anxiety. Day by day, I apologize in an attempt to forgive myself.

While I wait for the pizza and my perfect gentleman of a boyfriend, I selfishly allow my thoughts to wander. If he thinks today was just a normal day and I act like everything is okay, maybe, just maybe, he will be interested enough to have sex with me finally. It’s been over a month, nearly two. Apparently, I want it so bad I’m dreaming up having sex at the gym and being stalked by a masked man. I can’t help the negative thoughts that pop into my head next. The entire situation is so confusing. Everything about him is absolutely perfect and wonderful. He’s everything I want in a partner and yet, he suddenly has no interest in me and it’s making me insane.

I zone out waiting, completely engrossed in the movie from my childhood. It’s nostalgic and checking all the boxes I’ve been in need of to feel better. Out of nowhere, a pair of hands land over my eyes and soft lips brush against my jaw.

“Surprise,” his voice rumbles.

It’s not until my brain processes everything that my heart stops racing. I know that voice and I know those lips. Even his smell is familiar.

He wraps me in a hug over the back of the couch. “Did you notice if an animal got into the trash cans today? They were all toppled over in the alley. I picked the mess up. There were several ripped open bags.”

I shrug. Part of me wants to tell him I thought I saw the masked man from before, and part of me wonders if I should take the medication I was prescribed. My mind is racing full of what ifs and possible reactions to both.

“Baby,” he prompts. “Did you hear me?”

“Oh sorry,” I lie, too easily. “I keep getting really sucked into this movie.”

“I was just asking if you saw anything or heard anything with the trash cans today. It looks like something got into them.” He says.

I decide to just be honest. “I know you won’t believe me, but I’m pretty sure I saw him again.”

“Saw who again?”

“The man in the mask I told you about.” I reply.

“Damnit, Amanda. We’ve been over this. There wasn’t a man in a mask. Have you been taking your medication? Was today too much for you? I can work from home if I need to, luxuries of being the boss.” His tone is laced with concern as his eyes sweep over me.

“It’s fine. You’re right. It’s probably just my eyes playing tricks on me. You said it looked like animals got into it. The wind probably knocked them over, and a raccoon or something got into them.” I rattle off.

It’s not worth trying to convince him of anything. No one believes me. I don’t even know if I believe me.

“Do you mean that, Amanda?” He asks.

“Yes.” Another lie.

What I really think is that the masked man knocked things down, and an animal got into it afterward, but there’s no sense pleading with him to believe me.

“How about I stay home tomorrow?” He offers.

“No.” I respond a little too quickly.

“No?” He sounds hurt.

Fuck, this is exactly why you shouldn’t lie. It’s a slippery fucking slope. The lies are just sliding off my tongue tonight. “No, because Erica and I are planning a coffee date in the next few days and I need some self-care to pull myself together. I don’t need you to stay home with me. I want things to go back to normal. No, I need things to go back to normal.” Well, at least part of that ended up being the truth.

“If you’re sure. But, Amanda, it’s not an inconvenience. If you want me to stay with you and you change your mind, all you have to do is ask.”

He’s so fucking sweet and charming, while I sit here lying to his face. I feel like such an asshole. I don’t have long enough to dwell on it. The doorbell rings and I welcome the escape.

“I think that’s dinner. Do you mind getting that?”

He doesn’t say anything, but he walks off a bit defeated to answer the door. I pause the movie and click back to the Home Screen to pull up his favorite. So what if I’m feeling guilty? I need to get out of this house. A coffee and shopping date sound equal parts amazing and terrifying.