Page 66 of Speak of the Devil

Guess you forgot. I’ll wait while you block it now.

Cat:

Too late. You’ve already found me.

I drove by Parkdale twice and saw her once when she was leaving for the day. I didn’t dare approach, figuring we were long past having a civil discussion. Though, I’m not sure that spying on her was any better. I sit back in the iron chair, and type:

Want to hear something really creepy?

Cat:

No.

I text to cajole her:

Come on . . .

Cat:

Fine. What?

Me:

I knew where you were all along.

Why the fuck did I think telling her that was a good idea? Fucking hell. I roll my eyes, another reminder of her. She’s cute when she’s annoyed. When wasn’t she adorable, though? Not one memory comes to mind.

Cat:

It’s so creepy you were stalking me like a celebrity.

I’m stuck on how to read between the lines. Is she fucking with me, being funny, or playing along. I type:

I’m not sure I know how to do it differently. I thought I was special.

Three dots roll across the bubble, then die.Fuck. I thought she’d find the play on words charming. The three dots return, and another message pops up:

You were.

If she wanted to gut me, she did it in two words. Scraping my fingers through my hair, I stare at the screen. There isn’t anything clever I can say to make the words taste better.

She has a right to be mad. I was hurt and took it out on the one who felt in control of my pain. No excuses. Just facts. So it’snot surprising she’d strike when she can. Unknowingly, I gave her the perfect setup for that reaction.

Another message pops onto the screen from her:

You didn’t have to spy on me. You could have stopped by to say hi instead.

Sobering.I remind myself that I didn’t stay away because I wanted to. I kept my distance because she needed me to. She needed neat and orderly, a life she could fit in a little garden home plot. So why am I fucking it up for her? I know why.

Am I ready to admit it?

Not out loud. Not to her. Not even to me fully. I’m still grappling with who I was then and who I want to be, and I’m currently stuck between the two.

I text:

I thought you’d refuse to see me or, at the very least, throw me out.

Cat:

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