Sunday, February 15th, 1:27am – Oh, God!!! Oh, God!!! Blood, so much blood… I can’t

see anything but the color red. Red on the walls, on the floor, on my clothes, on Gabrielle’s

dress, which had already been red. How did this happen? I only wanted to talk. I only

wanted to know why. Just talk…

Sunday, January 4th, 3:43pm – I’m working. I work at a bookstore. I have an IQ of 172

and I can’t get a job anywhere else. I like the bookstore, though. It used to be bigger, but

years ago it got divided to make room for the tables and the counter where the customers

buy the overpriced coffee. I love the rows of books, the way they smell. I have memorized

every shelf of every section. I know exactly where everything is. I don’t share this

information. I’ve learned over time that it’s better for everyone when I pretend I’m not as

smart as I am, when I pretend I’m “normal”.

I feel a tap on my shoulder. I don’t feel comfortable with people touching me, but

every so often it happens. I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again before I turn

around, in an effort to calm myself. I plaster my “customer service” smile on and finally

turn to greet eyes the color of storm clouds.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for a book that my friend wants. It’s her birthday and I want

to get it for her. I was hoping you could tell me if you have it and where I could find it. I’m

talking too much, I always talk too much…” She smiled easily, the way people who are

born attractive do. Although her smile didn’t look fake and manipulative, you know, the

way pretty girls smile when they want something.

“What?” was all my 172 point IQ could come up with.

“I’m sorry, I always do that. I talk too much and too fast and people don’t know

what I’m talking about. I need a book called Green Meadows and Cyanide Pills by Jacob

Jenkins.”

That’s how I met Gabrielle. I was able to help her with the purchase of her book.

She was new in town. She and her friend had been offered a job at a local newspaper,

and as recently graduated journalists they jumped at the opportunity. Her friend’s name

was Susan, much plainer, I thought, than Gabrielle.

Wednesday, January 7th, 6:05pm – I’m standing outside the building where Gabrielle

works. She said she had liked the bookshop and would likely be a regular customer. She

had not returned yet. The last words she had said to me were “Thanks so much for all

your help. I’m really happy I met you, Gerry.” I had introduced myself as Gerard, I usually

cringe at nicknames like “Gerry”, but in her voice it had a nice ring to it. She had smiled

often and sincerely while we located the book (I pretended I had to look it up in the

computer and searched several wrong shelves before “finding” it). She had kept speaking

about her friend Susan and both their expectations for their new job. She had liked me, I

was sure. But in three days she had not returned to the store. Then it dawned on me!

Surely she had been busy getting acquainted with her new job! Surely she hadn’t had

time to come by the bookstore.

Gabrielle emerged from the building that housed the Daily Dispatch with another

girl, presumably Susan. Susan was not at all plain. She was tall and lean with skin the

color of rich caramel. However, next to Gabrielle, she seemed plain to me. I emerged

from the bakery where I had been keeping watch of the entrance, holding a loaf of French

bread that I had purchased forty minutes earlier. I then crossed to her side of the street

looking at the ground, then looked up and pretended to notice her for the first time. “Oh,

hello… Gabrielle right?” like I could have forgotten.

“Oh, hi!” there was the smile again. “Gary, right?” Sure. “This is my friend, Susan.

Susan, this is Gary. He helped me find the book.”

“Hi, Gary,” said plain Susan. “The book is great so far, a real thriller!”

Nobody cares, Susan. “I’m glad you like it. I’ll have to read it sometime. You ladies

just get off shift?” Ladies?!

“Yes, I’m so exhausted!” said Susan.

I wasn’t talking to you, Susan! “Well, there’s a nice pub just down the street. We

can have a few beers to celebrate your new job…” I don’t drink beer. I don’t drink at all.

“Thanks, Gary,” said Gabrielle, “but we really are quite pooped. There’s still a

couple of assignments I need to finish tonight. We’re still not used to this job. Raincheck?”

It had taken every ounce of my non-existent social skills and imaginary courage to

extend that invitation. “Of course, no problem.” Smile, remember to smile. “If you girls

need any help getting settled in, you know where to find me.”

“Bye, Gary. Nice to meet you,” said Susan.

“Thanks again, Gary. It was really nice to see you again.” With that and a twirl of

black peacoat and long black hair, Gabrielle walked away.

Gerard, my name is Gerard.

Friday, January 16th, 6:47 – I’m standing in the bakery again. I have done so every day

since Wednesday of last week. Every day I purchase a loaf of French bread I don’t intend

to eat. Not today, though. I’ve followed Gabrielle and Susan home each evening; they live

in a third floor loft on Dyer Street. Gabrielle’s windows are the two on the left side. She

still hasn’t returned to the bookstore.

Last Friday they stopped for a few drinks at the pub I had indicated was nice, even

though I had never visited it. I watched from outside for hours while the two girls shared

drinks and laughs. I smiled to myself every time a prospective suitor was turned away. It

had been so cold. I wished I could have gone in and pretended running into them again,

but I hadn’t been prepared. So I waited until they left just after midnight and walked them

home from the shadows. That’s why I didn’t buy the bread today. If they go back to the

pub, I’ll be ready to be casual and charming. It is unusually late for Gabrielle not to be out

yet, she’s always through the door between 6:10 and 6:20. There she is, in the blood-red

leather jacket that I love, followed by Susan. Always Susan… there has not been a single

moment besides the bookstore that I’ve seen Gabrielle alone.

They walk a ways down and someone joins them, a man. He is tall and handsome.

They continue walking and talking together and finally reach the entrance of the pub. I

was thrown off by the new addition to the group, though, so I wait outside for a while and

watch them. The new guy seems to be paying more attention to Susan, I am relieved. I

am debating whether to go in or not, an hour goes by. I finally walk in and head straight

to the bar, completely missing Gabrielle and the others. I order a scotch on the rocks,

going on impulse. It sounds like a man’s drink, but I’ve never had alcohol, so I wouldn’t

know. I wait at the bar with my back to the party, waiting for one of them to recognize me

and invite me to join them. Ten minutes go by, I still haven’t touched my whiskey, they

still haven’t noticed me. Finally I feel a tap on my shoulder, much like the first time. This

time the touch is welcome. I turn around to the same storm-cloud eyes, though in the

pub’s dim lighting, they look almost black.

“I thought that was you!” she says. “I’m here with Susan and Jason. Are you

expecting someone?”

I try my best to look surprised. “I was, but he just cancelled. It’s nice to see you.”

“Well, if you’re alone you should come sit with us.”

“Thanks.” I grab my untouched drink and follow Gabrielle to their table.

I introduce myself as Gerard to Jason and neither of the girls seem to realize that

they had called me by the wrong name in our previous encounter. I sit there, with them,

making small talk, laughing at jokes, in the most uncomfortable situation I have ever been

in, but I would not have been anywhere else. Just before midnight, I say my goodbyes

and pretend to leave. I stand outside in a shaded alley and wait. They all leave together

twenty minutes later. I follow them home, Jason is invited upstairs. This makes me more

upset than I had anticipated. I wait for several hours, until all of the windows in their

apartment go dark. Jason did not emerge. I realize the dawn is about to break and start

walking home, noticing for the first time the numbness in my fingers and toes.

Thursday, January 22nd, 7:05pm – I am so mad! Every day since last Friday Jason has

been a permanent fixture in the girls’ apartment. It should not bother me so much since

he is keeping Susan busy and Gabrielle has been moving about on her own. Monday

afternoon I followed her to the mall after she got off work. She bought a beautiful red

dress, a pair of earrings and some other knickknacks. She sat alone in the coffee shop

drinking chai tea with milk and reading. It was wonderful to have her all to myself. I was

so high on this feeling that after the lights went out in her apartment I let myself in. I had

been researching how to pick locks on the internet. I even practiced on my own door a

few times. I am pleased to say that I am a natural. The apartment was tidy and feminine.

I watched her sleep for about an hour, I’m not sure, all the while taking in the space that

was hers. The silk scarf draped over the back of a chair, the uneven pile of books on the

corner desk, plus two more books on the bedside table. I watched her until my fingers

ached from not touching her and left quietly, taking with me a light blue camisole she had

left on the dresser. I don’t know why I took it, I’m not a thief, but I couldn’t help it.

But then on Tuesday she had joined Susan and Jason for dinner, along with a

second fellow. Susan was obviously trying to set her up with guy number two. She

introduced him to Gabrielle as “Todd”. Todd was tall, with dark blonde hair and blue eyes.

Could he be any more of a cliché? They all walked to the Copper Angel where they

apparently had reservations. I watched through the window while they wined, dined,

laughed and made merry. Gabrielle smiled frequently and sincerely, the way she had

smiled at me. I have some consciousness of how cold it is outside, where I’m standing,

but I can only feel the heat of the rage inside me. Now she is throwing her head back in

laughter and I wish I could listen to the melody of it, but I’m outside, watching a silent film

unfolding before me. Now Todd is speaking to her. He places his hand on her arm and

lingers. She’s letting him! I take a walk around the block to clear my head. I’m back at the

window and they are all getting up from the table to head out. I duck into a corner and

wait for them to come out. I should just go home! Go home to what? All these years I

have reveled in the aloneness of my life, now it just feels empty. I debate another moment

whether to follow them or not, but there is really no contest. I move silently behind them,

leaving plenty of space between their party and myself, but I needn’t have bothered. They

are way too caught up in their conversation to notice me. The men walk the women to

their apartment. At this distance I cannot hear what they are saying, but Susan and Jason

go directly upstairs, leaving Gabrielle and Todd alone on the stoop. She smiles and

touches her hair as they speak, but after a few minutes she goes up to her apartment

alone and Todd turns and leaves, walking in the opposite direction of where I’m standing.

I am washed with a wave of relief that purges the darkness out of my very soul. I want to

follow him, but I also want to stay here, like I do every night.

Friday, February 6th, 6:10pm – I am late! I should have been in the bakery long before

now, but I got held up at work. Bastards! They gave me a written warning for my poor

performance during the past couple of weeks, like that matters at all to me. Granted I

have been tardy on several occasions and one day failed to show up at all. I’ve been so

preoccupied and I don’t get any sleep. The manager said she was “concerned”. She went

on and on about how in the past six years I have been a model employee and that my

behavior had been so erratic lately. I must control myself, like before; keep up the façade

of normalcy.

All my nights have been spent in front of Gabrielle’s apartment. On weekends I

accompany her on her outings. When I am at home I am comforted by her face in the

pictures and videos I have of her. After the night I took the camisole I have let myself into

her room on three occasions, but I have restrained myself from taking anything else, lest

she notice. But I am growing uneasy. Even though Todd has yet to walk up the stairs of

the apartment, they have seen each other twice after the dinner at the Copper Angel;

luckily, both times were with Susan and Jason.

Last Sunday, Gabrielle was sitting at the same coffee shop, drinking her chai tea

and reading her book when she received a call from her mother. She told her that she

liked the new city just fine, that she had met a couple of nice guys, but she didn’t want to

start seeing anyone yet. A couple of guys? Surely she was talking about me! I knew it

hadn’t been all in my head, I knew she liked me!

Now I’m sweating, despite the cold, hurrying to make it to the bakery before

Gabrielle gets out of work. I practically run her over as I round the corner. I am completely

mortified and unprepared. “Hey, slow down there, tiger!” she laughs. “What are you doing

here?”

“Uh, running and errand. I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“I’ll live. Where are you headed?”

I’ve got nothing, I just stare at her blankly. “The dry-cleaners,” I manage after a few

seconds of awkward silence.

“Must be a hell of a shirt you’re going to pick up!” there’s still laughter in her voice.

As an afterthought she adds, “Why so far from your job?”

“Uh, I live around here,” I lie.

“Oh, well, you better hurry, it’s pretty late.”

“Um, yes, uh… Gabrielle?”

“Yes?”

“Do you, uh, like dinner? I mean, do you want dinner? Someday, have dinner with

me?”

She giggles, it’s intoxicating. “Oh, Gerry, I do like dinner… I’m just getting settled

into the city and I’m not really ready to see anyone yet. But thank you.”

You had dinner with Todd! I want to scream at her, but I don’t. I do my best to keep

my face blank and mask the rage and disappointment. Why did I even ask her?! I caught

myself completely off guard with that stupid, stupid question that was, to top it off, so

poorly executed. Instead I say, “Of course, I meant as a friend. I really need to get that

dry cleaning.” I don’t wait for her reaction, I just walk away and wait around the corner,

out of sight, where I know she will pass in a few minutes. She does. I wait, then follow.

I’m back to watching from the windows after that unfortunate encounter.

Saturday, February 14th, 10:49pm – I’m inside Gabrielle’s room, pacing. I can’t stay still.

Liar! After the horrible encounter last week Gabrielle has gone out with Todd twice, one

of the times alone! And they’re out tonight, on Valentine’s. She’s wearing the beautiful red

dress she bought the first time we went to the mall and the shoes she ordered online last

week. I need to talk to her when she gets back, I need to ask her why she LIED! I was

going to wait as long as she needed. Doesn’t she know how much I care about her?!

Doesn’t she know I will always be there? When she comes back, we’ll talk. I’ll let her

know…

Sunday, February 15th, 1:27am – Oh, God!!! Oh, God!!! Blood, so much blood… I can’t

see anything but the color red. Red on the walls, on the floor, on my clothes, on Gabrielle’s

dress, which had already been red. How did this happen? I only wanted to talk. I only

wanted to know why. Just talk…