Following My Toes (28 page)

Peter turned to see what I was looking at. He saw the same couple, but something completely different as well. “Cute baby, huh? And

well behaved too. I didn’t even know it was behind us.”

“Sure,” I replied.

“They seem happy.”

They did? “How can you tell, just by looking at them?”

Peter poured some sugar into his coffee and stirred it in. “I can’t tell. I was saying what they seem like.”

“Right. Look Peter, I should be getting back. It’s late, and I work tomorrow morning.”

“Do you ever want to have kids, Faith?”

“Yeah, I suppose I do, but I don’t feel like talking about that right now.”

“I never knew I wanted to have kids until I fell in love with Lacey. But with her, somehow, everything dropped into place. And you’re right, you don’t owe either of us anything. So I suppose it’s a lot to ask. But I was hoping you would say yes anyway.”

“I wouldn’t even know what to say to her. The last time I tried to talk to her I said all the wrong things. She threw me out too.”

“So, you try again. Besides, there’s no one else I can ask.”

“What about her mother?”

“No. She’s as screwed up as Lacey is, if not more.”

Peter was right on that count. I sighed, resigned to finish the conversation. “I’m not surprised. They don’t talk about things in that family. If you ask me, Lacey needs to be in therapy. I don’t know who her physician is, but his license ought to be taken away, giving her all of those drugs without making her be in therapy.”

Slowly a tear trickled down Peter’s face. He wiped it away, and buried his face in his hands. In a muffled voice he said, “I’m very worried about her.”

I can’t tell you how many times I had wished for this, wished to see Peter in the same kind of pain I had been in. True, I wasn’t the cause of his pain, but that only angered me, which increased my desire to see him cry.

I picked up my purse, found my wallet, and left a five on the table. Finally, I had the chance to orate the speech I prepared in my mind about a million times since being dumped.

“Peter, I loved you once. But I don’t anymore. I don’t feel anything for you, and that includes friendship. I accommodated to you way too often when we were together, so I’m going to break that pattern now that we’re not. Goodbye.”

I left Peter at the restaurant. He would have to walk back to my building to get his car. It was only a couple of miles, so he’d be fi ne. I drove home, and walked into my building and headed towards my apartment. I thought I should feel something powerful, but all I felt was tired. Suddenly I could think of nothing other than sleep.

As soon as I opened my door I was aware only of the hands that grabbed me, smothering me, forcing me towards a chair, and a place at the table which was already set for me.

Chapter 22

To see what is in front of one’s nose is a constant struggle.” That’s the quote Ethan was trying to remember that day in the garage. George Orwell said it; I know only because I looked it up later. For some reason I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Perhaps I wanted to comfort myself over missing so many clues. I don’t know why it hadn’t occurred to me that it had been him behind all of the notes and messages. After all, the whole thing had started on the night I was doing laundry. How could I have been so blind?

“I found the aloe,” Bill sighed, as he walked towards Margaret and me, tied securely to our respective chairs. He had burned himself in the process of cooking dinner. “When’s Missy getting home? Our date can’t officially begin until she’s here too.”

“I think she’s working until close tonight,” said Margaret, “so she won’t be home until well after one.”

He looked over at the clock. It was only a little after 10. “Well, we’ll wait for her. Not to eat, of course. But for what is coming after.” He went back into the kitchen, and I wondered, what is coming after?

Around half an hour had passed since I’d walked into the apartment. I learned that approximately an hour before Bill had let himself in using a copy of my key, which he made after finding my purse. Margaret was home, but since she was napping in the bedroom she did not notice his presence until she heard him making noise in the kitchen. Assuming it was me she emerged, which was when he whacked her and tied her up.

How did I learn all this information? Well, it seems Bill is a very chatty abductor, and insistent on following at least some rules of decorum—a habit which he feels a woeful few of us observe.

“Wait!” I yelled. He returned to face us. “Um, I just remembered something. Missy’s going out tonight.”

“She is?” asked Margaret. I shut her up with a dirty look and continued.

“With some guy she met on the internet. I don’t think she’ll be coming home tonight, and if she is, it will be with a man.”

He laughed, a deep chuckle that lasted for a long time. “Really? With a man, huh? I suppose it figures. Is there anyone that slut won’t sleep with?”

“Missy is not a slut!” cried Margaret.

He turned to her, suddenly angry. “What do you know?” he yelled as he leaned into her. “You don’t know anything about me.”

His anger bounced off her like sunlight off a mirror. With a smile she said, “I don’t claim to know anything about you. I wasn’t even talking about you.”

He took a step back. “If you were talking about Missy, then you were talking about me.” With calm patience he explained, “We’re all connected here, can’t you see that? You can’t isolate people; we’re not plants in little clay pots. We’re trees, and our roots reach out and tangle with each other, until soon it’s impossible to tell where one tree’s roots end and the others leave off.”

“Yeah, I can see what you mean,” I lied. “But, um, anyway, see-ing as how Missy won’t be showing up, and seeing how you burned yourself, maybe it’s best to postpone for another night. Like later this week. Margaret, you’re free on Thursday, aren’t you?”

She looked at me like I was the insane one, but went along with it. “Sure. Thursday’s good.”

He scratched his forehead and his eyes narrowed. “But the food is almost done. Plus, Thursday is my night to stay in. Good television watching night.”

“Yeah, but the whole thing is incomplete without Missy. And you don’t want her to miss it.” He eyed the chairs, and our hands and feet, which were tied to them. I was telepathically willing him to come over and untie us, and it almost felt like it was working, when the door opened, and in walked Missy, alone.

“Missy, go! Get help!” I yelled to her, but it was too late. She was already in the apartment.

“What the....” She exclaimed before his hand covered her mouth. He grabbed her in the same way he had grabbed me. She put up a fight, but he was big and strong enough to still win easily. Then she was tied up too, and the trio was complete. I cursed the day I ever picked Missy as a roommate, along with an apartment with unusually thick and soundproof walls.

“Why?” Missy asked, once she was securely trapped to her chair.

“If you don’t know,” Bill answered, “then I’m certainly not going to tell you.”

Missy simultaneously let out a huff and thrust out her chest. “That old line? Come on Bill, certainly we can solve this like reason-able adults.”

“You betrayed me,” he yelled, directing his rage equally towards the three of us. “So now we’re going to do things my way!” I hate to admit it, but he was reminding me of myself. “You all are going to take turns. When it’s not your turn, you will watch. Then you will know how it feels.”

“How what feels?” Margaret asked.

“How it feels to be betrayed.” I answered for him. He turned to me.

“Oh, so you understand. Wonderful. You get to go first.”

“I have to go the bathroom. Could you possibly untie me?” Missy squirmed in her chair for effect. Bill stood over us, a menacing presence.

“How stupid do you think I am?” Bill verbalized my thoughts, but directed them towards Missy. “I’m not untying you. Not until our date is over.”

“Well, what kind of date is this, where the lady isn’t even allowed to use the toilet?”

“My mother always said it was rude for a lady to use the facilities in the presence of a man.” Bill replied.

“Well, she must have been better at holding it in than I am. If you don’t untie me, I’m going to end up peeing on myself.”

“You would do something crude like that. I can’t believe I ever saw anything in you.” Bill marveled.

“Then what are you doing here, you freak?” retorted Missy.

“Missy!” I broke in. “He’s not a freak. He’s trying to show us a good time, aren’t you Bill?”

“Shut up, Faith. Bill knows he’s a freak. Stroking his ego isn’t going to make any difference.”

“It’s not my ego that needs stroking.” Bill leaned behind me as he said this. “You don’t fool me, Faith. You called me a freak this morn-ing, before you knew it was me who you were talking about.”

“Yeah, but...”

“And how couldn’t you know it was me, after everything I did for you?”

My mind raced to find the right answer. “You mean, like when you worked for me on the day I fell?”

“I mean everything!” he yelled. “Returning your purse, returning your quarter, talking to you all the time while you’re working. What does it take to get your attention?”

“I’m sorry. I’ve been a little preoccupied lately.”

Margaret piped in. “That’s true. She’s had a lot going on.”

Bill ignored her and continued to address me.

“Newsflash. We all have a lot going on. That doesn’t excuse anything. Now, you were about to go first. How about it?”

“Um, weren’t we going to eat first? And you never finished showing us your photo albums.”

“I messed dinner up. There is no dinner.”

“We could order pizza!” interjected Margaret. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving. And whatever it was that you were cooking smelled really good. It made me hungry.”

“Oh yeah?” asked Bill. “Because I totally ruined the sauce for the polenta.”

“No, it smelled great,” said Margaret. “And I don’t care so much about sauce. Why don’t we eat the polenta anyway?”

“No, we can’t. I also picked the wrong kind of wine. I misread the label at the store. No. The whole evening is a disaster.” Bill kicked a table leg, which in turn made his photo album fall to the floor. When it landed on the ground a picture of him and Missy fell out. They were smiling towards the camera, their arms around each other, the epitome of a happy couple.

Bill saw that I saw the photo. He snatched it up, and waved it in front of me. “Yes!” he cried. “Here’s the evidence. So you see what you’ve done!”

“I don’t understand,” I said. I turned to Missy. “You and Bill were a couple? Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“We were hardly even a couple,” she replied. “We went out for a few months, until I realized he has no social skills. After that I blocked the whole thing from my mind and did my best to avoid him completely.”

Bill’s eyes continued to sear into mine. “We were happy, and you came along and ruined it! Because of you my heart was broken! So tonight you’re going to pay. Tonight you’re going to give me what I have coming.”

I didn’t know what to say. But Missy sure did. “Bill, you are such a moron! I didn’t leave you for Faith. I left you for Nina, who lived here before Faith. Remember?”

Bill’s face turned bright red. “I can tell the difference between Faith and Nina, Missy. But can you? Aren’t all of your sexual partners interchangeable?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Missy looked towards the floor, and squirmed in her chair once again. “Can I go to the bathroom now?”

Bill loomed over Missy. “I think you do know what I’m talking about. Somehow you find it possible to sleep with me, tell me you love me, and at the same time, betray me with your roommate.” I surmised that Bill was referring to the roommate with whom Missy had, as she put it, a falling out. Or was it a breakup?

“I never told you I loved you.”

“Yes you did! You’ve probably forgotten because obviously, those words don’t mean anything to you. How long did it take for you to say them to her?” Bill pointed towards me.

“I don’t love Faith!” exclaimed Missy.

“Oh, so it’s just about the sex then?”

“You’re being ridiculous! Faith is my roommate. That’s it! We’re not a couple.”

“That’s not what Faith said this morning,” Bill replied.

“What?” I said. “I didn’t say anything like that.”

“Liar!” Bill yelled, with a false smile boding evil. His face had grown more red as the evening progressed, until now it was so bright it made his gray hair appear white in comparison. His voice took on a high pitch, mimicking my own. “I’m not that innocent! Nothing about Missy is going to shock me! Missy has been getting some!” He resumed his normal tone. “I know what I heard.”

I tried to lean away from him. No wonder he seemed so upset earlier today—my words must have driven him to this point. “Look Bill, you’ve got it all wrong.”

“Exactly,” Missy broke in. “Whatever Faith said, you misinterpreted it. She and I aren’t involved. Believe me.”