Sarah Flanigan - Poetry Simply Put

 

Was it a shadow that glanced my peripheral vision or something real? My head made an automatic turn in that direction but nothing was there. I shrugged, yet another symptom of being on edge, too much stress.

I squinted against the bright sun and let its warmth soak into my bones. An easy day of doing nothing. Wandering. Looking into windows at things I could never afford to buy I felt a calm settle in. I needed this - a respite from the noise and clutter in my mind. A vacation from me.

With bold invisibility I moved with the crowd. Touching no one, no one touching me. A relief to be a stranger among strangers. A joy to offer no revelation of what lie inside. I listened to my sandals meeting the pavement, each step measured and regular. My shoulders relaxed, my mind turned off and my eyes searched and coveted without notice.

Again, the shadow danced out of reach of my perception. What was it? Who was it? I stopped and listened. My senses dialed up a notch, trying to lasso that elusive perception. A color, dark, moved slightly to my right. I fumbled in my bag and pulled out my cell phone. With flair, I pretended to dial and chat with an imaginary friend. “What are you doing?” I said to the no one there. My eyes darted covertly, scanning for a face or a clue. “Really?” I continued. “Uh, huh, uh huh . . . ” I saw what I was feeling. The embodiment of the shadow. It was she. Again.

I ended my imaginary call and put my cell back in my bag. My mind ticked. What should I do? Confront her? How uncomfortable that would be. Ignore her? Didn’t seem possible. Pretend to be happy to have run into her? I wasn’t sure I was that good an actress. So . . . I walked. Hoping she would give up. Hoping she would find fresh prey on the street thronging with countless opportunities for an obsession.

I stopped at a juice bar and bought a smoothie. She stopped at the newsstand next door. I chatted with the kid at the counter so long he probably feared I was hitting on him. Eventually, I had to move on. I had to keep traveling as though unaware. If I stopped too long, I would give a tacit invitation to her to bump into me. Grant her permission to invade my privacy again. Damn her!

The sun was hot but I felt a shiver. What did she want? Why did she want it? How had I become the object of her obsession? We’d met casually, through mutual friends. At first, I thought we could be friends. She seemed bright, witty, intelligent. We even had lunch a couple of times, took in a movie, had drinks and complained about the men in and out of our lives. Normal getting to know you type of stuff. I didn’t think twice about it. Until . . .

Three o’clock in the morning and my phone jolted me out of a dead sleep. “Hello?” a mixture of apprehension and annoyance.

“Kath?”

“Yeah,” I sat up only vaguely recognizing the voice.

“It’s me, Janny.”

Annoyance won. Why was she calling me at this hour? “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, really. I just couldn’t sleep.” I heard her smoking, exhaling deeply and sensed a nervous ramble.

“Janny, it’s late.”

“I know,” she gushed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called but I can’t sleep. I need to talk . . . ”

I gave in, though I knew I shouldn’t have. It was a bad precedent to set. Soon, late night calls became the norm. I could have unplugged my phone and in fact did, but the cell would ring anyway. I couldn’t completely disconnect, I had family and friends who I wanted to be able to reach me if they needed. I started screening my calls.

After many unreturned calls, she started showing up at my house. Knocking on the door at all hours. Leaving gifts on my doorstep. Pathetic messages on my answering machine. “I thought we were friends,” she’d say, her voice cracking as though on the verge. “What’s wrong?”

Nothing was really wrong. It wasn’t as though I thought she could hurt me or threaten me really. But I just didn’t want to be around her. But that was unavoidable. We had mutual friends - I saw her at parties and gatherings where she would corner me and force feed me the details of her life. I started to notice strange things. She changed her hairstyle and it looked a lot like mine. She started to wear clothes from the same shops where I bought my clothes. Her mannerisms reminded me of me. It was like looking into a fun house mirror and seeing a distorted image of me.

While it was unnerving there wasn’t much, I could do about it. She wasn’t breaking the law or causing me harm - just creeping me out. I saw less of our mutual friends. I avoided places I knew she might turn up. I changed my phone number. For a while, things returned to normal. The calls stopped. I rarely saw her and thought the infatuation was over. A fluke. An unintended assumption of personality goaded by too much admiration?

But now, here she was again. Dogging me. Watching me. What did she want?

I knew if I didn’t do something, I’d be driven to extremes. To move or change jobs or worse. It was time. I had to confront her. I didn’t want to - I didn’t want to accuse her of what was obvious but could never be proved. I didn’t want to deal with the consequences, with friends choosing sides and the mess that would surely follow but she left me no choice.

I stepped into a doorway and waited. She started past and I stepped out in front of her.

“Kath!” she cried as though genuinely surprised. She gave me a hug and my skin crawled. “What are you doing here?”

I backed away from her reach. “The question is, what are you doing here?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, why are you following me?” I asked and felt like a ridiculous, paranoid bitch.

She put her hand to her chest as though she would have a case of the vapors. “Following you? I’m not following you. I was just out window shopping. I had no idea you were here too.” Her eyes went large and mimicked hurt.

“Cut the crap,” I said. “We both know the truth. I want you to stop it. Just stop it. Leave me alone.”

She looked around as though the strangers that walked past were her audience. “Can you believe her?”

A couple of people gave a look.

“You want me to stop it? Stop what?” She looked at a man walking by, “she wants me to stop? Stop what?”

The man gave us both the eye and hurried past, looking back once or twice but never stopping.

“Stop trying to be me,” I said, my jaw clenched and pained.

She laughed a high-pitched shriek. “Be you? Why would I want to be you?” Her voice went higher and louder. “What’s so special about you?” She put her hands on her hips and glared.

“I don’t have any idea why you’d want to be me. I can’t think of one reason you’d want to be - but you do. You are. Stop it! Leave me alone!” I shook with anger and was done with it. All of it. I walked away.

She screamed after me. “You don’t walk away from me. You don’t accuse me of this and walk away! Do you hear me?”

I walked faster, harder, to get away. I felt a clutch in my chest and a burn in my lungs but made myself move faster. When I got in my car and locked the doors I felt safe. I let my head fall back against the headrest. I’d said it. It was over. Out in the open. I steeled myself for the onslaught of calls from concerned friends, who would no doubt want to patch things up between us. For the possibility of letting those friends go if it became too much. For the possibility of changing jobs and homes so I could make a clean and total break. I’d done it. There was no turning back.

***

I slept in fits and starts. I could find no comfort in my bed or the still night. Charlie, my cat, hid from me under the bed, growling and spitting any time I tried to coax him out. Finally, I gave up and just lied there. Sleep would come if I just let it and I counted the cracks in the ceiling.

“She won’t give up without a fight, you know,” said a voice in my head, though it sounded from across the room. I punched the pillow and turned on my side. “Are you ignoring me too?”

I felt the breath on the back of my neck. There was another human being in the room with me and I was both angry and terrified. “Who’s there?” I whispered.

“Why me, of course,” and like that he was eye to eye, nose to nose.

I screamed and flew out of bed. Where was the damned phone? “Help!” I ran to the bathroom and locked myself in.

When I turned away from the door, there he sat on the edge of the tub, smiling. My heart thumped but he was really just a little man. A very little man, his feet barely touched the floor and his bow tie was askew.

“Who are you?”

He smiled like a guppy fish. “Oh come now, you know who I am. Think hard. I’m sure it will come to you.”

If he weren’t so odd and harmless I would have jumped him, wrapped him in the shower curtain and called the police. But this strange little creature intrigued me and I knew it had to be a delusion so I decided to engage him instead. “Nope, I got nothing.”

He sighed like a little girl and shook his head. “I’m so disappointed. But fine. I’m your little voice.”

I knew it was my paranoia - not real, harmless. “Oh,” I winked, “I see. My little voice. Well, you certainly are little, aren’t you?” Why was I standing in the freezing bathroom in the middle of the night talking to an apparition wholly of my own making? “Are you here to offer me some advice? Or just to put me to sleep?”

He laughed as though truly amused but there was something a little mean in his eyes. Something that made me back up a step. Did I really have that vivid an imagination? If I reached out and touched him would there be something there?

The doorbell rang and I jumped and screamed again.

“Take it easy. It’s just her,” he said.

“Her?” My heart sped up. “Her, who?”

He pointed his gloved hand toward the door. Like a little puppet, I pulled open the door and went toward the livingroom.

The bell continued to buzz, as though the mystery visitor leaned on it. Short of reaching the door, it stopped. I did too. Like a cat, I froze in mid-stride. My head felt on fire and sweat dampened my hair.

I heard mumbles from the other side of the door, jangling, keys and scraping. Whoever was out there was trying to get inside. “Who . . . ”

“I told you, it’s her,” he hissed in my ear. How did he get beside me without notice?

“Who?” I mouthed to him.

“The one who wants to be you.”

I shook my head. It couldn’t be. I couldn’t believe it could be her. But then, who else could it be? Gingerly I engaged the door chain. I didn’t really think they could get through the deadbolt but it wouldn’t hurt to be cautious. In the back of my mind I kept telling myself it was a weird and twisted dream and I would wake from it soon. Kept telling myself to wake up.

The deadbolt slid from its slot and the door eased open - just a crack, because the chain prevented entry. I gasped.

“I told you, I told you, I told you,” little man laughed and danced.

“Kathy, it’s Janny. Open the door.”

“You have to kill her,” he whispered, this time in my other ear. How did he get up on my shoulder? Why couldn’t I feel the weight of him there?

“Go away,” I said and put my weight against the door to close it.

She was strong and pushed back, I couldn’t manage to get the door shut and the chain was threatening to break. Little man squealed and shrieked. “Hurry, hurry, hurry. Kill her now, kill her now!”

“Janny, stop this now! I’m calling the police. Go home. Leave me alone!” I tried to sound angry and authoritative but could barely get the words out. “Do you hear me? Stop this!” I shoved hard against the door but it made no difference.

“We need to talk. I need to talk to you. Just let me in. I’m not going anywhere until we talk.” She shoved hard back and nearly knocked me to the floor.

My brain buzzed - the phone was too far away, little man wouldn’t help since he was just my imagination, the cat hid under the bed. My eyes scanned, looking for anything that would give me leverage and there was nothing. I was exhausted and I knew I couldn’t keep up the tug of war for too much longer. I knew I would lose at this game, she was clearly stronger than I was. Determined to drive me insane. Or?

“What do you want?” I asked.

“Just to talk,” she said.

Little man laughed and shook his head. “Don’t believe her.”

“Talk about what?”

“About what?” she whined. “About that fit you pitched today. I need to set you straight.”

I had to keep her talking. I had to get her to become more involved in her thoughts that trying to break down the door. I could feel she’d let up a little, just a notch . . . if I could just keep her talking.

“Why can’t we talk on the phone? Tomorrow?”

She laughed that mental patient laugh of hers. “Like you’ll even pick up the phone if you know it’s me. I’m not stupid you know, I’m not falling for that trick. No, we’re going to straighten this out tonight! Now!”

“Fine,” I said, “talk!”

She pushed again at the door. “I want in. Let me in!”

I gave up. I was damned if I were going to play this game. I walked away from the door. If she was determined to get in, I wasn’t going to stop her. Let her push all she wanted. Let her break the chain. I walked to the phone and picked up the handset. The minute I dialed 911 the chain went flying and the door banged open.

Little man shrieked and hid behind me. He trembled and hissed. “She’s in now. She’s in. She’s going to kill you. Why didn’t you kill her when you had the chance? Why?”

I put the phone to my ear, “come now, please come now,” and I let the phone drop to the floor.

Janny stood in the doorway, enraged. Her hair greasy with sweat, her eyes wild and cruel. “You!” she screamed. The full moon rushed through the open door behind her, forcing her shadow to touch and molest me. Her right arm, longer than her left, her teeth jagged and grinding. “You are going to pay!”

Fire shot from her hand and buzzed past me.

I dived for cover behind the sofa. The fire blazed every few seconds. My mind couldn’t take it in. I knew it wasn’t really fire. I knew none of this was really happening. I was a ghost in a dream feeling fear but knowing it was all pretend. Little man bit my knee and whimpered. “You bitch. You should have killed her. She’s going to kill us both. It’s all your fault.”

“Shut up, “I screamed at him.

She advanced. “Shut up? Shut up? I will not shut up! I’m going to shut you up for good. I’m going to shut your stupid, vile mouth up for good! Do you hear me?” More fire. More dizziness. Where were the cops? Where were the sirens? Why was I hiding from the crazy lady in my own house?

I hazarded a look around the side of the sofa. She was gone. It was silent. So quiet. Where had she gone? Why hadn’t I heard her? Where was little man? I looked around. I was alone in the dark. Trembling and sweating. Heaving for breath. The door was closed, locked, the chain engaged. The phone was in its cradle. Charlie stood at my feet and meowed. I stooped and picked him up and held him to me.” Oh Mr. Cat, we are losing are fucking minds. What the hell kind of dream was that?”

He meowed louder and I realized he was probably hungry, so I carried him into the kitchen. I flipped on the lights and grab a can of his favorite and dumped it in his dish. He jumped up to the counter and purred while he ate.

The doorbell rang. “What the. ?”

I went to the livingroom and stopped short of the door. “Who is it?”

“The police, ma’am.”

My mind whirred.

“What can I do for you?” I asked but didn’t move.

“We’re responding to a 911 call. Woman in distress.”

“Sorry, it was a mistake. I made a mistake.” I said from my spot in the middle of the livingroom. I knew I shouldn’t move. I knew it would be bad if I moved an inch.

“Could you please open the door ma’am,” the police officer said from the other side of the door. “We have to make sure you’re okay. Open the door ma’am. Open the door now.”

My feet were lead, it seemed to take hours to get to the door. I released the deadbolt but kept the chain in place. My hand closed on the doorknob - it was slick with . . . something - sweat? I used my nightgown to wipe away the slick and turned the knob and pulled open the door a crack. “Yes, officer?” I smiled through the crack in the door.

“Can you let us in, ma’am?” he said, a pleasant looking fatherly type in a uniform.

“I’m afraid I’m not decent, officer. You see, I was sleeping . . . ”

He shined his flashlight in my eyes my hand flew up to shield them.

“Sleeping ma’am?”

“Yes, sleeping, “I said. “Could you please not shine that in my eyes, I can’t see.”

“What’s that on your hand, ma’am? What’s that stain on your hand? Are you hurt? Are you bleeding?” His face was a black shadow against the glare in my eyes.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Just fine. I’m sorry, but I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have called. Can’t I just go back to sleep?” He lowered the flashlight and his face came back into view. Little man danced behind him and made ugly faces at me. My stomach knotted. “Really, I’m very tired. I didn’t mean to call you. I guess I just had a bad dream.”

He shook his head. I would have to let him in. I would have to tell him about my stupid dream and paranoia and have to see the snicker on his face that he would try to hide but could not.

I stopped fighting fate. “All right,” I said, “just let me put something on.” I reached into the closet and grabbed my raincoat and covered myself up then returned to him. I unchained the door and pulled it toward me but it wouldn’t budge. “Sorry, something seems wrong with the door. It won’t open. I don’t know what’s wrong . . . there must be something blocking it . . . ”

I looked down and saw Janny’s face staring up. A frozen scream on her face, shadows down the front of her shirt, her hands to her throat. A breath caught in my throat.

The last thing I remember was little man screaming, “KILLLER!”

Copyright 2007

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