Following My Toes (27 page)

“Ma’am, I will keep these notes and your testimony in a file, but for the moment, that’s all I can do.”

What could I say? I’d seen enough suspense movies to know this is the drill, and besides, there were people in the city who had much bigger problems. I couldn’t expect police protection simply because some weirdo had been calling and leaving notes and gifts outside our door. I thanked him and got up to go.

I didn’t feel like going home. Margaret was probably back by now, and if Missy wasn’t home, she would be soon. I didn’t think I was up to facing either of them, nor did I want to talk about this whole stalker mess. They were so oblivious, and if I had to try and explain the seriousness of the situation one more time, I was sure I would lose it.

But if I wasn’t going home, I didn’t know where I was going. Carolyn was still out of town with Charles. I could go to the coffee shop, but if I did, I ran the risk or running into Glenn, and perhaps Ethan, and I didn’t feel up to that either. All at once I felt more alone than I ever imagined I would. There was no one to offer me safety while I was scared. I sat in my car and stared at the cracked pavement outside my window. I wracked my brain to come up with options. Where could I go? Who could I turn to? I made a mental checklist of every friendship I ever had. What had gone so wrong that I had no one to go to now?

In the midst of overwhelming self-pity, I was startled by some noise. A woman, drunk out of her mind, was being led by a police-man into the station. With worn clothes and ratty hair she displayed that classic homeless look.

“Get your hands off of me! I need to find Marcus! Let me find Marcus, he’ll take care of this. Are you listening to me? I need to find Marcus!”

She screamed as she was being led in, her voice pure desperation. Had there ever been a time in her life when she was happy, when she was taken care of, provided for? And who was Marcus? Boyfriend? Husband? Son? Dealer? Did he truly have the power to make everything okay? Or perhaps she was doing what so many of us do – endowing him with an omnipotent authority because she wanted to believe one person’s love could make all the difference. And although I was lucky enough to be safe inside my car while she had the misfortune of her own situation, I felt a connection with her nonetheless.

I shook my head to discard the trance I was in. I turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot. I wasn’t sure where I was headed, but I knew one thing without a doubt: It was time to move on.

* * *

I ended up going to the Mall of America, where Max had taken me on our first date. Usually it wouldn’t have appealed to me, but today I liked moving amongst the crowds of people shopping so I could lose myself, and after a while, I did. I cleared my mind, and began to have fun. Fact was, I needed new clothes for my new job.

I bought a charcoal A-line wool skirt at the Banana Republic, along with a cream-colored, button-down blouse with over-sized cuffs and collar, and a hand-knit cotton cardigan sweater with wooden buttons. It was all very teacher-like, but stylish at the same time. And to be kicky, I added in a pair of knee length suede boots to complete the ensemble.

I imagined myself teaching in this outfit, feeling purposeful. I also imagined going out in this outfit after school one day for drinks, with my new teacher friends, friends I was sure to make. Both scenarios fit, and I was so encouraged that I continued shopping. I bought a lot of basics, long sleeved t-shirts at the Gap, comfortable khaki pants just formal enough to work in, socks and underwear. I threw in a light blue silk scarf, long enough to wrap around my neck a couple of times, with fringe on either end. I also bought expensive lipstick and perfumed lotion. I figured, why not? Maybe I didn’t have the life for these things right now, but that didn’t mean I never would. I had to start with my attitude.

After treating myself to dinner at the crepe stand, and to a movie and a box of Junior Mints, I was finally ready to go. I wound up put-ting close to a thousand bucks on my credit card, but I justified it as more effective than therapy, plus I actually had some material things to show for it. I drove home in an excellent mood.

When I got to my apartment building I pulled up to the curb and parked. I was fishing my packages out of the back when another car pulled up behind me, and stopped. I didn’t turn to see who it was until I heard the voice behind me.

“Faith?”

Then I didn’t have to turn around, for I would recognize that voice anywhere.

Chapter 21

I should have known. Isn’t it a law of nature: as soon as you are over an ex; the ex shows up? There’s only one catch—for it to work you have to be so truly over your ex, that it would never occur to you that he might come around. Thus, you’re not thinking about him. At all.

Peter and I were sitting at Perkins, which was not too far from my apartment building. He said he only wanted a cheap cup of coffee, so I took him there. Yes, I could have asked him in, and in retrospect, I wish I had. But at the time I wasn’t ready to let him into my living space, and I wanted to talk to him without having Missy and Margaret around.

He looked terrible. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair hung in greasy clumps as if it hadn’t been washed in days, and his beard was growing out in a scruffy fuzz. His hand shook as he raised his coffee cup to his lips. He was like some bad cliché of a broken down man from a 1930s film noir. Or maybe that was the image he was trying to portray. I don’t know. With Peter, image and reality tend to merge.

“So, what’s up?” I asked. He hadn’t yet told me why he was here. Instead we made small talk, as if him driving down on a surprise visit months after our breakup was a completely natural occurrence. He took a sip of coffee, then set down his cup and gave me a defeated smile.

“You look great, Faith. It’s really... it’s so good to see you.”

“Uh huh. Why are you here?” I was determined to get to the bottom of this, and to not let him get to me in the process. Already my insides felt like a jellyfish. There were too many memories attached to Peter for me to be impervious to his charm.

“I wanted to see you. To talk to you. I heard you came to see Lacey. That was when I started wondering.”

“Wondering what?”

“How you are.”

“You couldn’t have called? You had to come all the way down to fi nd out?”

“It’s easy to hide on the phone. I wanted to see for myself how you actually are doing.”

“What makes you think I have anything to hide?”

Peter rattled his empty cup, and reached for the coffee pot to refill it. He didn’t look at me as he replied. “That’s not what I meant.”

“And why is it so important to you anyway, to see how I’m doing?”

“Jesus, Faith, what’s with the interrogation? You told Lacey you still wanted to be friends. I thought you might feel the same way about me. Is that so wrong?”

“It’s not wrong, it’s just inaccurate.”

“I see.” He kept his focus down, as if he was examining his fingers, checking they were still the same fingers that he had two hours before. “That’s too bad. We shared a lot. I hoped we could remain friends.”

A million different replies ran through my mind. Here was my chance to tell him off. He was sitting right in front of me, vulnerable; it was the perfect opportunity to hurt him. But those words remained frozen on my lips.

“Tell me why. I need to know what about me is so expendable that neither you nor Lacey minded hurting me.”

“You’re still hung up on that? I’ve told you before, it wasn’t about you. We fell in love.”

“Peter, you act like what happened was nothing. I loved you. I loved Lacey. Nothing has ever hurt me more. And then the two of you act like I’m imposing on you for being upset. Do you have any idea how maddening that is?”

“I suppose I never thought about it.”

“Thanks,” I said sarcastically, “that helps.”

“Lacey and I always knew you would analyze the situation enough for the three of us, so I suppose we felt that she and I didn’t have to.”

“I should throw this coffee in your face for that. Do I mean so little that you have to be insulting on top of everything else?”

Peter’s shoulders sagged. “You know, you’re taking the whole thing way too personally. Did it ever occur to you that we’re just more selfish than you are?”

After being accused of my own selfishness time and again? I shook my head. “We weren’t thinking about you. I was thinking about myself, and about Lacey.”

I pondered this. Could it be that the flawed parties here were Peter and Lacey, and not myself? Interesting. But I wasn’t entirely convinced. “Okay, but why Lacey, and not me?”

“Faith, what’s the point of talking about this? It’s water under the bridge.”

“Yeah, Peter, but I’m still on that bridge, gazing at that water. I need to know.”

He sat up straight, as if to brace himself with better posture. He squared his shoulders and his eyes met mine. Now was the moment. “I felt more crucial to her. With Lacey, it was like we became a part of each other, thoroughly. There was no room for surfeit baggage. Our souls, in poverty, replenished each other. Her love and craving for me was all encompassing, and there was no way I could defy it.”

“Are you quoting yourself, Peter? That sounds like something you would write in your journal.”

“You read my journals?”

“You read them to me! Don’t you remember? You used to insist on it, always late in the evening when I had to be at school early the next day.”

He looked down, and drew an imaginary circle on the plastic tablecloth. “And that’s the other thing. I never understood why you stayed with me for as long as you did.”

“Because I loved you. Didn’t you know that?”

“I knew you loved me. But I didn’t know why. With Lacey, I knew. Without question. I’m weak, Faith. I need that constant reassurance.”

There was nothing I could say. I got my retribution without even asking for it, at least not directly. How fitting, given the once true nature of our dead relationship.

“I’m sorry – not for anything I did. I mean, I’m sorry how we ended.” I truly was. Hours ago I wouldn’t have believed it could happen.

“Me too.”

We sat in silence for a moment. I gazed at him, this man who was so achingly familiar, yet so distant. He did look terrible, like something was very wrong. Then it occurred to me.

“Peter.”

“Hmmm?”

“You talked about Lacey in the past tense.”

“Huh?”

“You were referring to your and Lacey’s relationship as if it was in the past tense.”

“No I wasn’t.”

“Yes you were.”

“Well, I didn’t mean to. Don’t read too much into it.”

“What’s the real reason you’re here, Peter? Are you and Lacey having problems?”

“You tell me. You’re the psychic one.” Peter forced a laugh as empty as a worn wading pool collecting the rotting leaves of autumn.

“I’m starting to think I’m not all that psychic. So maybe you should tell me.”

He ran his fingers through his grubby hair, and squeezed his bloodshot eyes closed for a moment.

“The other day I was on her computer. She’s been kind of depressed lately, so I thought I’d surprise her with a trip. You know how she loves
Chicago
. I went online to make reservations at this hotel where we’d stayed before. We went for the weekend a while ago, and Lacey booked the room. So I clicked on the website history button, to see if I could find a web-address for it, and I noticed she visited several websites about prescription drugs.

“I went to them, and there was information on each site about how many sleeping pills it would take to kill you. And the only thing I could think was, ‘God, that’s so like Lacey. She has to do research before actually killing herself. She couldn’t be messy and take the whole damn bottle.’ The idea actually made me laugh, in a sick-hearted sort of way.

“I asked her about it, and she got so upset. Said she wasn’t planning anything, that she wanted to know so she would never make a stupid mistake and take too many. Then she threw me out. Said our relationship was over. I didn’t know what to do. So I came down here. You always knew her the best. I figured maybe you could talk to her.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised. All the signs of Lacey’s instability had been there. But I was surprised, surprised that somehow I hadn’t escaped from the bonds of friendship, even though those bonds had escaped me.

“Peter, I don’t know what to tell you. Lacey won’t even talk to me. I don’t think I can help.

“You don’t get it. A lot of what she’s depressed over is you. She thinks she’s a bad person because of what she did to you. Her guilt is affecting her mental stability, and in turn, our relationship. The way I see it, you’re the only person who can help.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“I don’t care. Try anyway. You have to help me, Faith.”

“Um no, actually, I don’t. The two of you betrayed me, remember? I don’t owe either of you anything.”

Peter’s face fell. The artificial light and stagnant air at Perkins closed in on us. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a young couple, both with tattoos and piercings all over their bodies, attending to a baby while they ate omelets and smoked cigarettes. I hoped the child was not their own, that perhaps they were babysitting.