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SADIE

Where are you?

What happened?

Is something wrong?

Did I do something wrong?

I fucking hate you.

I miss you.

My eyes blur as I hold my phone out at arm’s length, wishing that if I somehow blink the right way or cross them, it’ll change. He’ll respond, explain what’s going on. How it’s all some big misunderstanding, and we’ll have a laugh.

Nothing.

It’s like he never even existed.

Like I, in some lonely and psychotic breakdown, invented this hot, gigantic, rich man who worships my body morning, noon, and night. I could almost believe it, if Lucy didn’t keep asking where he is.

The phone slips from my fingers and splats onto my chest.

It’d be better if I was crazy. If he was a figment of my mind then I could just imagine him here, laying in my bed, rolling my ponytail in his fist until he pulls me up for a kiss. I strain my head back and hear the tell-tale crinkle of an empty chip bag.

My bed is a garbage heap of sorrows. For six days, I’ve lived in it like a heartbroken sparrow that builds its nest with barbed wire. The only time I’ve left is to go to the bathroom or for work. I can’t talk to anyone.

I don’t talk to anyone, certain that they’re all laughing at me behind their backs.

She thought she could get him? How pathetic.

And I did. I really let myself think this time would be different. That he’s different. He didn’t hide me from his friends, not that he had any. He didn’t monitor what I ate like a hawk, or hide things in my food I shouldn’t eat. He made me laugh, protected me, adored my body every way he could.

How could I be so stupid to let myself think that he liked me? That he wanted me?

That he could love me?

“Hey!” My roommate’s voice carries across the whole house like a sonic boom. “You’ve got a package!”

“Can you bring it up to me?” I call out from my wallow.

“No.”

I don’t have a choice. My back screams at me as I fall to my feet. I’ve aged fifty years in grief, my hands gnarled and face sagging to my knees. No man would want me. They’ll shriek and throw tomatoes at me as I pass.

I’m a hideous monster.

A hideous monster who’s not wearing pants. Partway out the door, I glance to my piles of laundry. There’s the clean pile and the dirty pile. I think the clean one’s on the left, but it’s been a while and… Ah, fuck it.

I grab my robe and throw it on.

Looking like a frumpy housewife from some sexist cartoon, I clomp down the stairs while clinging to the banister for dear life. Olivia’s standing at the door, presumably talking to the delivery man. “Hey.” She greets me with a nod, then slams the door and walks off.

A burst of hospitality surges through my darkness. I wrench the door open to find a skinny man in all red standing on the stairs. “Are you Miss Nair?” he asks.

“I’m sorry about that. Olivia’s…” The door closes behind me as if it too is tired of my shit. “She takes a lot of getting used to.”

“This is for you,” the man says and hefts over a box. I hadn’t ordered anything. I hadn’t done anything for a week. Lifting the box in my arms, I give a listen to the thuds when it hits me.

It’s for a client. There are so many commissions coming in lately I can barely keep up.

“Thank you,” I call out to the delivery man.

“No.” He turns and shoots a finger gun at me. “Thank you.”

Okay, bit weird. Reaching behind, I get a hand on the door and start to hobble the heavy box inside.

Whatever’s inside rolls around like a mess of baseballs.

It’s not easy going, and the last thing I want to do is bruise their product.

Pristine packaging matters. Easing the box higher, I try to hook my hand under it and finally turn to walk in.

A hand slams to the closed door.

Aubry?

Someone’s panting as if he’s run a thousand miles. A man. Slowly, my head pivots, wanting to believe he’s fought through a million sharks to be with me.

I gaze slightly down at the face and frown. “Derek?”

“Sadie…”

“Derek?” I shriek and take a step back into the door. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“You really thought you had me, you bitch.”

There’s always been an edge of cruelty in his sharp face, but he looks deranged. I slap my hand back for the door handle, hoping to run inside so fast he falls on his face. But Derek’s hawk glare cuts through my arm, and I freeze.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stutter.

“Hiring that goon to try and kill me. I fucking know it was you.”

“Goon?” What the hell does that mean? “I didn’t hire anyone.”

“I didn’t do anything. You know I didn’t do anything. You’re a rotten liar.”

“Derek…” The box weighs down my arms. I should drop it and run, but he’s got me pinned.

Leaping in my face, Derek shouts, “He fucking failed, you slimy cunt. My neighbor found me, cut me down. You’re going to pay for what you did.”

Knife.

The word squats on my brain dampening my flight or fight until all I can do is stare. Sunlight glints on a blade as long as his forearm. “Hel…” I wheeze, but all the sound dies as he lifts the sharp edge toward my face.

“You won’t get away with this—”

“Help!” I scream.

The blade flies.

I cling tighter to the box as if it can save me.

The door opens.

I fall.

Two wires shoot from the darkness around me. As they impale into Derek’s chest, he looks down a second, then starts to dance. A demented giggle rises in my throat at him choosing now of all times to cut loose.

Then Olivia steps out. She gives another jolt of her taser, sending Derek shaking so hard the knife falls from his hand. Wetness blooms over his pants and starts to trickle down his leg.

The electricity ends. Derek stares at the prongs still inside of his chest. Then he lunges for her.

Olivia swings her other arm around. A toxic cloud bursts from her hand, blasting into Derek’s eyes. I gasp from the smell but he’s full on vomiting when not screaming.

“That’s bear mace, you fucking loser,” Olivia taunts.

Shrieking and gouging at his eyes, Derek falls off the stairs. Once he hits the gravel patch, he rolls, scrambles back to his feet, and takes off running. Olivia spits in his direction and calls him a fucking loser once more.

“Hmm.” She spots Derek’s gigantic knife and picks it up. “Bowie. Nice.” Stuffing it in the back of her waistband, she looks to me. “You okay?”

My heart’s pounding a mile a minute. What the hell was Derek doing here? How did he find me? What did he mean about a goon and getting cut down?

“Yeah.” I nod, needing for all of this to have not happened.

“Should we call the cops?” Olivia asks.

I stare at the trail of urine that followed Derek as he fled. He always got off on torturing those who couldn’t fight back. But the second someone challenged him he turned into a sniveling coward. I don’t know what this goon did to him or why, but he deserved worse.

“No.” I shake my head, having been through the song and dance of a restraining order against him. Even with all the hospital visits, no one considered “knowingly feeding me eggplant” to be abuse. They thought he was just a forgetful boyfriend.

“Thank you.” I stutter, at last turning to my roommate. She gives a sneer-smile and a tip of her head before jerking to the box. “Get anything good?”

“I don’t know. Maybe…” I place it on the stairs and try to pry off the tape.

The knife stabs clean down, then cuts through the cardboard like it’s butter. I try to not think that that could have been my flesh. Olivia nods and swings the knife back as I pull open the flap.

“Peppers?” she groans.

It’s an entire box of green bell peppers.

“I was hoping it was wine again.” With that, she walks back to the kitchen to do whatever she does in there.

Jostling the box of peppers into my hands, I cry out once more, “Thank you so much for—”

Olivia waves her hand, her back to me. “It was fun. I haven’t gotten to use my new bear mace yet. You have any other old boyfriends who need a jolt?”

Maybe, but he’s run off to Greece.

I flinch. For as much as my heart hurts, Aubry’s a tenth, no—a thousandth as awful as Derek ever was.

“Sorry. Maybe the next one.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Olivia says before vanishing around the bend.

After dead bolting the front door, I carry the box of peppers to my room.

Without thinking about Derek, or a knife, or how much getting cut hurts, I set up my camera and light box.

Work is the best distraction before I fall to pieces.

Green peppers. I could do something cute, maybe put googly eyes on them.

And a little hat. Maybe do a garden set up.

I’ve set up three scenarios and taken them all down before I stop and wonder who sent me these things. The box is no help. There isn’t even a shipping label.

Hmm… There’s got to be an email.

If not for my email, I’d never remember a single client. Though I do sometimes forget to bill them.

Focus.

“I’m heading out,” Olivia shouts.

“Bye,” I call back, deep into the weeds of my inbox. There’s the popsicle job from spring. Two for the protein cereal that smells like dog food. One of a guy demanding I take pictures of his junk. Delete. Huh…?

I’m all the way back to last December and can’t find anything about a bell pepper. That’s weird.

A loud crash happens somewhere outside of my bubble. “Did you forget something?” I call out to my roommate.

She doesn’t respond.

“Olivia?” I look up.

A hand clamps over my mouth and nose.