Page 8 of Marked By my Stalker
That number slams into me like a fist every time I think of her laugh, or how she looked at me tonight, like she sees something steady in me, something she can trust.
If only she knew.
Maybe I can cancel, though there’s not much I can excuse myself with considering it’s my fucking job to watch her. Oddsare she’ll think it’s just a day in nature with the guy assigned to keep her safe, but I know what’s really happening.
I know the reason I picked that mountain trail. The way I’m already picturing her behind the camera, sun on her face, eyes lit up like she’s chasing something wild and free, like finally she gets a break away from being something for everyone else, and for a second can breathe.
I sink down onto the edge of the bed, jaw tight, hands clenched in my lap. The job is straightforward. Keep her safe. Keep distance. Don’t get personal. Don’t betray your dead friend. Don’t have filthy thoughts about a fucking nineteen-year-old.
Jesus!
My cell lights up with a call. Of course it’s her mother. She calls or texts every night around this time to check on Kera. What the fuck do I even say? Do I tell her about the mountains? Do I tell her we spoke? Do I tell her I’m a sick fuck who’s been picturing her daughter for the last hour?
I consider letting it go to voicemail, but this is my job.
“Howdy.” I try to sound as normal as possible.
“Hey, Jack. How’s everything going tonight?” Her mom sounds tired and a wave of guilt rushes through me.
“Good. Your girl is home safe. Nothing much to report outside of that.” Now I sound like I’m rushing.
“I’ve been texting her, but she’s not responding… of course.” Linda sighs. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do with this kid. She just won’t do the simplest of things.”
“She just got home thirty minutes ago, Lin. Maybe give her a minute to respond. I think she’s trying.”
“How do you know she’s trying?”
How do I know she’s trying? That’s a good question.
“Don’t, really. I guess it’s just a hunch. I see her studying all the time, working hard on getting volunteer hours amidst everything else. Not easy, ya know?”
“I just worry. She never opens up to me anymore. She was always a daddy’s girl. That man could sit and talk to her about anything. I found this picture the other night.” Her voice gets distant from the phone as she says, “Hold on. I’m gonna send it to you.”
Please don’t send me a fucking picture.Why the fuck do I need a fucking picture?
A second later, there it is, my brother-in-arms, the man that saved my life, standing with his daughter. It looks like she’s about to head off to college in the photo. The car is packed, and she’s wearing a Springs University hoodie. They stand close. She’s tucked under his arm, beaming with this electric glow that’s confident and sweet. Her hair is pulled back in a messy bun, strands catching the sunlight. His eyes are red as though he’s been crying.
It’s another punch to the gut. Another sick realization that I need to rein myself in. Another jolt to remind myself that whatever I see in her is void. It has to be.
“Did you get it?” Linda presses. “It was right before my Mikey died. He’d have given that girl the world. They were so close. I love this picture. I keep it next to the bed. It’s the last thing I look at before I fall asleep and the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning.”
“It’s a good one,” I manage, deleting the text.
“It is, but it’s also a reminder of what I’ve lost. Mike was always so good with Kera. They were inseparable. She doesn’t talk to me the same way. I don’t know where I fit into her life anymore.”
“I don’t know,” I clear my throat, “I think it’s like that with girls, right? Sometimes they’re just closer to their dads. Doesn’t mean she’s not gonna open up at some point.”
“Maybe.” Linda sniffles and my entire body shudders.
I’m not good with emotions. I’m wired for silence, for action, for solving things without ever saying a word. I can’t fucking do this, but she continues.
“I just want her to talk to me and tell me things, ya know? Real things about her life and about what she feels. It seems like I’ve gotta track her down to know what’s going on.”
I drag in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “What if you stopped all that? I’d find it hard to open up to someone who was tracking me. Maybe it’s time you give her some space to grow and let her come back to you when she’s ready.”
Silence ensues and I figure I’ve said the wrong thing.
“Ha!” Linda laughs. “I do that, I’ll never hear from her again.”
