Page 20 of The Liar I Married

SEVENTEEN

I’ve been driving the new car for a week now, and each time I’m out, I feel as if someone is following me.

I admit I do like the features but I prefer my old car.

I could park it anywhere and no one knew I was there.

Being white, it blended into parking lots.

This one sticks out like a sore thumb and makes it difficult for me to avoid people I don’t really want to spend time with.

We all have those, right? Those who gather information about you and then pass it on as if they’re the community police.

I could count at least five living close by who spend their time stickybeaking on other people.

If one blade of grass is out of place, they’ll write a letter to the community management.

Once a week my mom picks up the girls and they go out after school to spend some time with her and my dad.

My mother told me that having a grandparents’ day was very important and something that she always looked forward to when we were little.

I’ve been spending more time at the art studio.

Having a housekeeper coming in daily to clean and prepare meals means that there is practically nothing for me to do.

I played tennis the other day and listened to the nonsensical twitter from my friends.

They are so self-indulgent, being with them is more boring than watching paint dry.

The paint I would prefer to watch dry is on my canvas at the studio.

I climb into the SUV and head along Main, the awful feeling of someone watching me creeps over me again.

It’s happening more often now. I check over my shoulder, looking to see if somebody’s there.

Panic grips me. It’s there again; the same truck is following me.

Throwing caution to the wind, I take evasive action.

I brake hard and turn left, weave through traffic.

I fly through a light just as it changes to red and make a right, my back wheels squealing on the blacktop.

The truck is on my tail. I can’t breathe.

I accelerate and then brake hard again. I make a right, overtake three vehicles then turn hard left.

The truck is still there.

Frantic, I slide between two SUVs. I need to be with people and head to the art studio.

My heart is pounding so fast by the time I finally arrive, I can’t think straight.

I park my bright-red tomato in a field of gray and white vehicles.

Chills run down my spine and the truck slows and then drives past. I climb from the car and with trembling legs run into the studio.

I find Alex working on his picture. Relief floods over me and I smile at the sight of him, palette in one hand, a brush clamped between his teeth as he waves another to create magic on the canvas.

“You look upset.” Alex examines my face. “Everything okay?”

I want to tell him everything but he’ll figure I’m crazy. “I had some guy almost run into my SUV. It shook me up some.”

“Wow. Are you okay? You can relax, it’s all over now.” He goes back to his painting.

I wish it was but I know it’s not over. I didn’t imagine the truck. I shrug. “Yeah, I’ll be fine as soon as I stop shaking.”

We work all afternoon until the sun dips behind the trees.

The natural light is slowly fading in the studio as Alex recounts one of his publishing antidotes and his laugh echoes through the room.

I force a smile but my thoughts are elsewhere.

I catch a flicker of movement from the corner of my eye.

A shadow moves in the bushes and fear crawls up my spine.

Is someone outside the window watching us?

I stare into the gloom and see nothing. Perhaps it’s just a bird or a trick of the light.

I push the thoughts to one side and gather my brushes to clean them but the sensation that someone is out there watching me refuses to leave.

I’m staring at the window seeing my own reflection. Shadows move and my heart races.

“What’s so interesting out there?” Alex’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” His warm curious eyes search my face.

I shake off the unease. “Oh, I was just thinking about my girls. They’re having an afternoon with their grandparents. I’m glad I’m here today because it’s so empty in the house without them after school. John doesn’t get home until late.” I meet his gaze. “He’s a stockbroker and works long hours.”

“Maybe he’ll be able to retire early and you can go on a trip around the world.” He chuckles. “Now that would make a good plot, add in a little intrigue, maybe an illicit affair or mistaken identity and have the cops chasing you.” He taps his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t turn it off.”

I gather my things and grin at him. “I enjoy listening to your stories. I really need to buy one of your books.”

“I’ll bring you one.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “I’m done for today and need to get home. I’ll walk you to your car.” Alex drops his brushes in a pot of turpentine and wipes his hands on a towel. “I need to work on my book tonight.”

It’s nice to have him standing there as I climb into my SUV and I give him a wave as he heads for his vehicle. My phone chimes and I look down to see my mother’s name on the caller ID. “Hi Mom, is there a problem with the girls?”

“No, of course not. As there’s no school tomorrow, and there’s a kids’ movie playing at the local theater, we wondered if you’d allow them to stay over tonight and then you could come by and spend the day with us tomorrow. No doubt, John will have his nose to the grindstone.”

I agree but the idea of walking into an empty house and spending another evening alone suddenly unnerves me. “They’ll love that and I need to help you pack up Grandma’s things. We should send her clothes to Goodwill.”

“She asked me to go through her things and I’ve been working through the rooms. I know you want everything left as she had it but there’s a ton of junk as well.

She hoarded newspapers and so many bits of rubbish.

They need to go. They’re a fire hazard.” She sighs.

“I still can’t believe she’s gone but those last few months, she changed so much.

Arguing with your dad and insisting he retire came right out of the blue.

I didn’t want to leave her alone but I’ve been looking forward to moving to Florida.

I’ll miss you and the girls and I know you’ll come for a visit but I doubt I’ll come back here.

For me, it’s more like a prison than a home. ”

I listen in disbelief. “Really, I never knew.” I look around as the parking lot empties and unease slides over me. “I’m on my way home. Have a great time and I’ll see you in the morning.” I disconnect and start the engine. I need to get away from here.