Page 47 of Stay Away from Him

Somehow everything has gotten even worse since I last wrote in this diary.

I write this with a head aching from a concussion, squinting at the page through eyes nearly swollen shut, a cut on my lip, another on my cheek.

I probably shouldn’t even be writing—the doctor at the ER told me I should rest when he discharged me. But I need to get this down.

I need to bear witness to what happened to me.

***

Where can I even begin? I suppose I might as well start where I left off last time—with Rhiannon coming up the front walk as I said goodbye to Derek Gordon, the man I had just slept with.

I spent the rest of the afternoon begging her not to tell Thomas when he came home. I swore to her that nothing happened—and then, contradicting myself, revealing myself a liar, that it would never happen again. She agreed.

When Thomas came home that evening, I was so terrified. Sitting through dinner with Thomas and the girls, I kept my eyes on Rhiannon the whole time. Watching her sullen expression for some sign that she was about to blurt out what she’d seen.

She kept quiet. Thank God.

But my problems weren’t over.

***

The next day, after Thomas and the girls left, I called Derek Gordon, using the number on the card he’d given me.

“We can never do that again,” I said. “I have a family.”

“I can’t accept that,” he said. “I don’t want to.”

“Well, you’ll have to,” I said, then hung up the phone.

But he didn’t listen. That same day, I went out to get the mail from the mailbox at the road and saw his car—the same black car that had pulled me over the day before—parked down the street. His silhouette visible behind the windshield. Watching.

And he was there the next day. And the next. The next. Just sitting and watching for hours at a time. In fact, he’s been following me for weeks now—followed me through the writing of this journal, a presence at the edges of my life I couldn’t bring myself to acknowledge.

Thomas thought I was being paranoid—but I couldn’t tell him the truth. Because convincing him I was being stalked would have required me to admit to what I’d done. Admit to cheating on him.

***

One day not long ago, Derek was watching at the curb when Rhiannon came home from school—and right when she came in the front door, I knew she’d seen him. The look on her face said it all.

Last weekend, I saw him again when I went grocery shopping. The girls were with me. Though it’s not enough to say that I merely saw him—he actually came up to us. He’s getting bolder.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, in the middle of the frozen foods aisle. He grabbed my forearm, tried to pull me close. Rhiannon’s eyes lit up fierce and scared, while Kendall watched with worried confusion at this stranger putting his hands on her mother.

I pulled my arm away. “We don’t have anything to talk about.”

“I’m worried about you,” he said, his voice going low, so others couldn’t hear. “Is he doing something to you?”

“The only person bothering me right now is you,” I said. “Stay away from me. I never want to see you again.”

***

As I unpacked the groceries back at home, I realized that Derek wouldn’t stop following me just because I asked him to.

This had become something more for him. Whether it was the sex or the feeling of being a knight in shining armor—a hero saving me from a terrible marriage—I couldn’t say. Probably, it was both.

Either way, this wasn’t going to stop unless I did something extreme.

I put the milk away in the fridge, then called the police and told them that there was a man stalking me. I even gave them his name.

“Derek Gordon. You probably know him. Can you please tell him to leave me alone?”

I thought that would put an end to it.

How foolish I was.

***

I was home with the girls the next day—yesterday, the day before I’m writing this. Thomas had gone into the office for something or other. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, with nothing in particular to do. I was thinking about a glass of wine when a loud knock came at the door. I went to answer it.

I’d only opened it a crack when it came flying back toward me, pushed by some incredible force. The edge of it caught me on the forehead and I staggered back. As the door flew open, Derek Gordon came rushing in, huge and red-faced with fury.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” he said. “Don’t you dare call my work and report me.”

“I asked you to leave me alone,” I said. My voice sounded quavery and fearful in my own ears, and I hated it—hated my weakness. “You weren’t listening. I had to do something.” I put my hand against my head where the door had hit me. It came away wet and bloody.

“I was trying to help you, you understand that?” Derek yelled, his voice growing, ballooning.

“Keep your voice down,” I pleaded. The girls were in the house somewhere, and I knew they were listening. Hearing everything.

“If you don’t want my help, then you can fucking die in this house for all I care,” Derek said.

“But don’t you dare try to make me out to be the bad guy here.

I had to beg the person who took your report to take my name off it.

I could get in a lot of trouble for that if anyone found out. Don’t do it again. Or I’ll kill you.”

Then he turned and left, leaving the door wide open, still swinging on its hinges.

***

I knew I was in trouble as soon as Thomas got home. He went upstairs, and right away I heard the girls’ footsteps, coming out of their rooms to intercept him. Muffled voices through the floor.

Then Thomas came down, met me in the kitchen, where I was sitting with a glass of wine. Trying to calm my nerves. There was a bandage on my forehead—the wound from the door hadn’t turned out to be big, and the bleeding had stopped.

“The girls tell me a man came by today,” Thomas said. “They say he shouted at you. Is that true?”

“It is,” I said, bracing myself for what I knew was coming.

“Rhiannon said it’s not the first time she saw him. She said he talked to you at the grocery store last weekend.”

“He did.”

“And that she also saw him coming out of our house a week before that. She said she saw him kiss you. Is that right?”

“It is.”

“Did you have sex with him?”

Something broke in me then. I felt a fullness at the back of my throat as I spoke. “I’m so sorry, Thomas. But I did.”

“In our bed?”

I dropped my gaze as I nodded, too ashamed to meet his eyes.

He was quiet for a long time after that, long enough that the silence was hard to bear, that I almost begged him to say something, yell at me—anything. But I kept my tongue and simply listened to him breathe, the air rushing in and out of his nostrils.

Finally, he spoke.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt so betrayed by you before. So hurt. So angry with you. And I don’t think I’ve ever hated you more than I do in this exact moment.”

The calmness with which he said it hurt more than anything. I’d have preferred it if he raised his voice, if he screamed at me, if he grabbed a plate from the cupboard and smashed it against the wall.

“I know,” I said. “I know I messed up.”

“I need…” he began, then trailed off and let out a breath. “I don’t know. I need to leave the house for a bit. I need to not be in the same room as you. Before I do something I regret.”

I nodded. “I understand.”

He walked away in silence. I winced as the door slammed behind him, as the car squealed away on a cloud of tire rubber.

***

Sometime after Thomas had left—I had no idea where he was—a knock came at the door again. I clenched when I heard it, thinking Derek had come back to finish what he started. To really hurt me this time. I went to the living room and peered out the window at who was standing there.

It was only Kelli. The sight of her brought annoyance rather than fear—I muttered, “Oh, for fuck’s sake, what is it now?”

I yanked the door open. “What is it?”

Kelli looked offended, her head snapping back atop her neck, skin wrinkling up under her chin. “Well, hello to you too.”

“Sorry, it’s been a terrible day.”

“What happened to your forehead?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Did Thomas do that?”

I sighed. “No. Christ. What is your obsession with him?”

“I don’t have an obsession.”

I rolled my eyes. It felt good to be mad at someone—with everyone else in my life mad at me.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go out. I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you.”

“Kelli, just leave. Thomas and I are going through some problems, and—I just can’t right now, okay?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know why you don’t just divorce him.”

I glared at Kelli, hating her. She was so smug, so certain in her judgments of the world. So confident that she knew exactly what everyone else should do. I wanted to reach across the doorframe and slap her where she stood.

“Kelli,” I said, starting slowly, calmly.

“You’re a busybody and an emotional vampire.

The only reason you’re so obsessed with my life is because yours is boring and pathetic.

You’re a profoundly unhappy person who loves it when other people are miserable, and I’ve never liked you.

Okay? Now get away from my house and my family before I come out there and remove you physically. ”

Kelli’s face reddened. As I spoke, there were parts of what I said that felt good—this was the strength I needed with Derek, and with Thomas. But after I was done, I only felt bad. I felt the urge to apologize, to take it all back immediately. But I’d said what I’d said.

“You made an enemy today,” Kelli said, then turned and walked back to her car.

***

Inside, I walked back to the kitchen and stood at the sink for a while, looking outside.

The sun was poking through the trees at the edge of our property, flaring in my vision, blinding me.

A part of me enjoyed the loss of sensation, the feeling of some part of me being blotted out.

I closed my eyes and felt the warmth of the sun as it poured through the glass, and I thought about the day. The mess I’d made of everything.

Then there was a creak of footsteps on the floor behind me, and I turned.

I caught a flash of some object heading toward me—a fist?

a bat? a piece of wood?—and then pain flashed red through my skull.

Something solid thudded against the back of my head, and it took me a moment to realize it was the floor.

I’d fallen. By some primal instinct, my body knew to curl up, make itself small as more blows rained down on me—some hard thing hitting against my stomach, my back, my legs. My face. Bruising bone, splitting skin.

And then, as quickly as it had started, it stopped. Footsteps receded as quickly as they’d come.

I lay there, drifting in and out of consciousness. Then there was another knock at the door—timid, light. The door opening. More footsteps.

“Oh my God!”

Kelli again. I suppose I should be glad that she’s the kind of person it’s impossible to get rid of.

“I came back to say sorry, and—what happened? Can you move?”

I sat up straight, wincing, each microscopic movement bringing a lightning bolt of pain. “I need to go to the hospital.”

“I’ll take you.”

In the car on the way to the emergency room, Kelli asked me if it was Thomas who’d done this to me. I looked out the window and said I didn’t know.

But that was a lie.

I know exactly who attacked me.