17. 500 PM

seventeen

5:00 PM

Amanda

T he silence of the TV, and glow from the setting sun wake me like they have almost every day since I took my leave from work. I yawn then stretch, kicking the blanket off myself and returning it to the bin beside the couch. The house is quiet, and the sun beams in through the window like it’s informing me Halloween is about to begin. I check my phone. There’s a missed text from my boyfriend telling me he got pulled into an emergency meeting for the event tonight and won’t be on time. I’m not surprised. In fact, I don’t even know why I got my hopes up thinking he would actually spend my favorite holiday with me.

It’s probably unfair of me to be upset with him. He worked really hard for the opportunity to become a partner at work. I know he wants to prove he can support us both. If I’m being honest with myself, I’m considering his offer, but he needs to understand, depending on another person like that when we aren’t even married makes me uncomfortable. I’ve given it a lot of thought and I’m still considering moving part time as a compromise, or taking up Erica on her business opportunity.

It’s complicated though and our perfect, sexless relationship is confusing the fuck out of me. Everything feels so hot and cold right now. It has me second guessing if our relationship can handle these changes. Honestly, my recent behavior has me questioning my morals. I can’t think about this right now. A glance out the back door alerts me it’s getting dark out. I have plenty of things I would rather do to pass the time waiting for him. Which includes setting out the bowl of candy. Fuck! The dead bird on the front porch. I’m going to have to move it off the welcome mat. Ugh. I trudge groggily to the kitchen to retrieve the bowl of candy and look for something to move the dead body. I grab the broom from the pantry first, then reach for the bowl on the countertop. As I pick up the bowl from the counter, I notice bloody black feathers strewn next to the vase of sunflowers. My pulse quickens and my eyes dart around everywhere. What the fuck is going on? Is he creeping around the house, messing with me? Shut the fuck up, Amanda. All the alarms are set and he would have to break inside. Don’t do this. My mind is racing.

No matter what, I’m going to have to work up enough courage to scoop it into the bushes so the trick or treaters don’t see it. I really, really don’t want to. Maybe we can just skip trick or treat this year. Ugh, I know I can’t actually do that. I take a deep breath and with the bowl full of candy; I scurry to the front door, ready to bravely push the dead bird into the bushes with the broom. To my surprise, when I open the front door, the bird is gone. In its place is a black mask with neon colored threading. I kick it to the side right into the bushes, then inspect the porch quickly. There’s no sign of the bird anywhere, and the neighbors probably think I’m insane. Especially after my mad dash inside this morning and the crazy kicking going on right now. I set down the bowl and rush back inside, trying to avoid drawing any more attention to myself. I slam the door shut behind me, locking it, and squeeze my eyes shut, then fall against the wall. This is all too much. I should have spent the day with Erica instead of home alone. She was doing the trick-or-treat street at the shop tonight for the neighborhood kids. I’ve tried calling the police, but it’s useless. No one believes me about anything that’s been happening. My fear consumes me, making it hard to focus. I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves. When I open my eyes, they land on the stairs. I scream, bolting for the bedroom. The stairs are covered in black feathers, just like the bird. I take them two or three at a time, trying my best not to land on any, then flying down the hall to the perceived safety of my bedroom.

My heart is beating out of my chest, but it doesn’t stop me from noticing something out of place. On the bed is a gift bag with a card. I cautiously empty the contents to find some sexy lingerie and a book. I open the card. Inside is another note. The handwriting matches the note on the flowers earlier. It reads, “ Put this on and enjoy the book.”

I’m not sure what to think. Who is this from ? It has to be from my man, obviously. Or am I losing my mind? Once again, my thoughts overwhelm my thoughts. I stand with my back against the locked bedroom door, arms crossed, glaring at the gift bag, contemplating whether or not to put the lingerie on. A glance at the time on my phone lets me know it’s late enough. I can get away with a call to check on him. Trying my best to take deep breaths and remain calm, I tap on his phone number and wait for the line to ring. He answers right away, catching me off guard.

“Hey, babe.” He’s nonchalant, like nothing is wrong. “I’m just wrapping up here.”

“Okay,” I squeak out, fighting back the tears.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, immediately concerned.

“I’m just having a weird night. That’s all,” I confess.

“I’ll be home soon, baby. Why don’t you take a shower and read for a little while? Enjoy yourself and I’ll be home before you know it. I’m sorry I am running late.”

I nod my reply as if he can see me through the phone, then recover. “Okay, I guess I can take a shower while I wait for you to get here. It’s too bad you aren’t here to take on with me.”

He giggles uncomfortably. “See you soon, love you,” he says sweetly.

“Love you too,” I reply before hanging up.

Hearing his voice made me feel a lot better, and knowing he’s on his way home soon calms my nerves. Based on his suggestion that I take a shower and read a book, I think it’s safe to assume the gifts are from him. I mean, obviously, who else can it realistically be? There’s no way anyone got in without setting off the alarm. No one else has access to my wish list to know this book is on there. I grab the lingerie, taking it with me to the bathroom and turn on the shower. Water always helps me feel better. It’s just what I need to relax and focus. Tonight is going to be much needed. I’m literally counting down the minutes until date night is going to begin. All my sexual frustration is pent up and I’m ready to lose control.