This story
was the Grand Prize Winner for the John Kenneth Galbraith literary award and
took home the $2,000 prize. Congratulations, Heahter! For more about the
Galbraith Award, see here.
I first saw him from a distance.
At 6:45 a.m. every other
day---give or take a few minutes---I ran on the treadmill at KeepFit, glancing
out the window in front of me every so often to relieve the boredom of my disciplined
run. Each morning I ran on the treadmill
he arrived in the parking lot in his shiny black Mazda3 at precisely 7 a.m. Not one minute before. Not one minute
after. He always parked in the same
spot: third space in from the third row.
I noticed him because he was the lone person in the lone car while I was
the lone voyeur peering undiscovered out of the tinted gym window that
conveniently overlooked the parking lot.
The Mazda guy always
followed the same routine.
Engine off, he sat in
his car for exactly ten minutes (I checked on the treadmill timer). After ten minutes, he’d open the car door,
close it, lock it carefully then test it was locked, walk clockwise around the
Mazda slowly, studying it. After
three---always three---walks around the car, he strolled towards the mall
entrance continually looking back at his car as if it would suddenly sprout
wings and fly away. During that ten
minutes alone in his car, who knows what he was thinking or doing? He wasn’t smoking or talking on a cell phone.
Maybe he was listening to the
radio. I thought his repetitive behaviour
abnormal. Obsessive even.
He was good looking. Average height and build from my vantage
point. His face intrigued me and I
thought he might be interesting to see at close range. He did have a trim little black beard that
looked soft and silky from a distance.
Although I couldn’t see his eyes I sensed they were light coloured. Probably blue because he always wore a sky
blue jacket, shirt or top.
Idly I began to watch his
daily ritual whenever I ran on the treadmill to see if he deviated from
it. Each time I watched him, he showed
the same compulsive behaviour. It was so
weird I even told Glenn, my live-in, about him.
I never knew where this
guy was going, where he worked, or if he only stayed in the mall for a short
time because after working out two hours I just wanted to get out of there.
Except this one
morning. I was meeting Glenn for grocery
shopping later so headed for Tim Horton’s in the food court for a quick
coffee. That’s when I saw him. From the coffee line. The obsessive guy with the trim beard. For a minute he startled me. Even more amazing was how our eyes
accidentally met and instantly connected.
He had no idea who I was or that I had been spying on him from the
second floor gym window. His penetrating
look embarrassed me and I began to wonder if he knew I had been watching
him. I sort of smiled half-crookedly and
he smiled back. A broad genuine
smile.
Suddenly he was beside
me.
“Let me buy you coffee,”
he said.
“But I don’t even know
you.”
“Hi. I’m Bill.
Now you know me.”
“Thanks,” I said,
thinking what a cocky so-and-so.
“Join me over at that
table.” Bill motioned as the cashier
gave me my double cream, one sugar java jolt.
And that’s how the intro
happened. As innocent as you please.
“Name?” he asked with
such intensity I paused.
“Pat.”
“Hi Pat.”
“Hi Bill. So what am I doing here?” I asked, noticing the
dazzling blue colour of his eyes. He
wore a flat gold chain around his neck. It
settled on a cluster of dark curly hair showing above his solid blue golf shirt
that matched his eyes. I had been right
about his eyes.
He grinned. “Having coffee with me.” He grinned again. Then, staring at my ring finger, he said:
“Happily married?”
“Not exactly,” I said
quickly. “Happily living together.”
“Good. Now I know where I stand.”
“Hey, Bill…” I
stammered. “I don’t even….
“Know me?” he
finished.
“Yeah.”
“Well, there’s not much
to know about me. I’m alone drinking my
coffee. I see a pretty woman come
through the door staring at me and think…why not? Why not enjoy coffee with this pretty
woman? That’s all.”
“Yeah,” I smiled and
relaxed a little, slightly flattered.
Only he didn’t know I knew all about his little idiosyncrasies. His daily ritual in his car in the same
parking spot. Circling the car three times.
“So,” said Bill. “Tell me a little about yourself.” Like a babbling fool I did. Told him about Glenn and how we’d been together
for five years (“ah,” he commented, “my kid sister almost made five years with
her live-in…”) and that I worked in the local library and loved the outdoor
life.
“I can tell that,” he
interrupted.
“How?”
“You’re carrying a gym
bag and you just came through the door from KeepFit so I figure someone who
stays in such good shape must like the outdoor life.” He emphasized such good shape saying the words slowly and with deliberation that it
slightly unnerved me.
“Anyway,” I said. “Gotta go and meet Glenn.”
“Your special man.”
“Yep.”
“Well, nice to meet you,
Pat with the golden hair and shining eyes.”
He looked straight through me and I felt an odd shudder. “What’d you say your last name was?”
“I didn’t.”
“Well, I’m curious. It’s……Smith?”
“What?” I said
laughing. “No, it’s Ryan.”
Then I stopped
laughing. Using the oldest trick in the
book, he had my last name. I didn’t like
that because I already knew he was a bit unusual. “Thanks for the coffee, Bill.”
“No problem Patricia
Ryan.”
The way he said my full name
bothered me. Damn.
“Bye,” I said, “and
thanks again.” I picked up my gym bag
and ran to the parking lot to the car. Something
made me look back. I saw Bill watching
me get into my white Toyota. Why was
this unease slowly spreading over me?
As soon as we connected,
I told Glenn what happened and how agitated I felt and for no good reason. Just a strange prickly feeling. “Nonsense,” he reassured me. “You librarians read too many books with too
many plots and you think a guy whose bought you coffee has some kind of sinister
ulterior motive.”
That evening the red flag
started to wave. About 9 o’ clock, the
phone rang. Glenn answered. “Who was that?” I asked. “No-one,” he said. “A hangup.
Probably someone realized they had a wrong number.”
Ten minutes later, the
phone rang again. “I’ll get it this time,”
I shouted from my downstairs office and hit the button.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hi Pat.” My heart stopped beating for an instant. I said nothing.
“Have you forgotten me
already? It’s Bill.” I knew damn well who it was and I was annoyed. Still, I knew it was best to downplay my
reaction.
“Oh, hi Bill,” I
said. “Why on earth are you calling?”
“Oh,” came the smooth
reply. “Just wondering if we could have
coffee together again tomorrow, same place, same time.”
“No. Sorry,” I said in a clipped voice, thinking
why am I saying I’m sorry?
“No problem,” said
Bill. “We can always get together
another time when it’s more convenient for you.”
“Sorry, Bill.” There I go again with my sorry bit, “but it’s impossible.
You know I’m committed.”
“Well, silly me,” he taunted.
I could feel those penetrating blue eyes piercing me through the phone
line. “I didn’t ask you to go out with
me,” he blew softly. “I only asked you
for coffee.”
“Thanks, but no thanks,”
I said and quickly hung up. I stared at
the phone, breathing hard. What the
devil was happening here? Why did I feel
so jumpy?
“GLENN!” I yelled running upstairs.
Ten minutes later the phone
rang again. “Don’t get it!” I
shouted. He already answered.
“Another hangup.”
“Let’s get caller ID,” I said, insecurity building
in my voice.
On my next workout day I
rushed to the gym at 6:30 a.m. From the
treadmill I watched the parking lot like a hawk. At precisely 7:00 a.m., Bill arrived in his
shiny black Mazda. This time I shivered
when I saw the car. He parked in the
same spot: third space in from the third row.
With the engine off, he sat in his car for exactly ten minutes. Then he opened the car door, closed it,
locked it, carefully checked the lock, then walked clockwise around the Mazda
slowly three times, studying it.
Finally, he began to stroll towards the mall entrance all the while
looking back at the Mazda.
I ran faster on the
treadmill.
Still feeling uneasy
after my shower I decided to ignore Tim Horton’s this morning. Grabbing my gym bag, I rushed through the exit.
“Hi.”
My heart stopped. It was him.
Waiting outside the gym door.
“What are you doing
here?” I frowned.
“Hey, Pat, pretty lady
with the golden hair and shining eyes,” smiled Bill. “Just looking for a little company while I have
coffee. You don’t have to get so jumpy.”
“Look,” I said
firmly. “I don’t really know you. So sorry. No coffee.” Damn, there was that ‘sorry’ again! “Besides, I need to get to work.”
“Ah, yes, the library,”
he smiled. “No problem. We can catch each
other another time.”
Trembling, I held my
breath as I unlocked the Toyota and slid into the driver’s seat. When I stole a backwards glance at the mall
door, he was standing there. Watching
me. I shuddered. Worse, I suddenly spied a note on my windshield
under the wipers. Even without opening
it, I knew it was from him. When I
looked at the mall exit again he was standing there. Waving.
That night I told Glenn
about Bill’s sudden appearance outside the gym door and showed him the note: Let’s have coffee together Pat.
“Relax,” said easy-going
Glenn. But he did frown. “He knows you
aren’t interested in having coffee. I’m
sure you won’t see him anymore.”
Glenn always sounds so
reasonable about everything so I calmed down.
That evening, no phone calls.
Each morning I went to
the gym now I held my breath. I even considered
changing my workout time but then decided no oddball was going to rule my
life. Besides, there hadn’t been another
impromptu meeting with him for a week or so.
I slipped into a more relaxed mode.
That is, until one day
at work.
I was at my desk when
unexpectedly I heard, “Hi there my pretty little Pat with the golden hair and
shining eyes.”
I didn’t have to look up
to know it was him. My body stiffened in
automatic response.
“What are you doing
here?” I said, trying hard to keep my composure while my insides reeled in anger.
“Hey lovely Patsy,” he
crooned. “Why so upset? This is a public place after all.”
His nonchalance and
familiarity infuriated me. On top of
that, he called me Patsy, a name reserved for Glenn and some close friends. Another emotion crowded my fury, though. Fear.
He had obviously and deliberately come looking for me at my place of
work. I felt like a bug under a
microscope.
“When’s your coffee
break?” he crooned again, his voice dripping with honey. “I was just chatting with your friend, Nancy,
over there. She tells me you’re both taking
off this weekend for the country with some friends. Gee, sounds like fun. Want another friend to go along too?”
Using all my self-control
to remain civil I decided to confront him with what I now considered the Bill
problem. “You seem to be following me.” I accused.
“Are you?”
“Well, Patsy, I don’t
think so. I may have seen you around
over the past days and weeks but you haven’t seen me.” He grinned.
Like the proverbial Cheshire Cat.
“What’s that supposed to
mean?”
He grinned again. “Well, you and Glenn sure lead an active
life. Movies…did you like Trainwreck...visiting friends, friends
visiting you…looked like nice people, the guy was a little loud… tennis,
gardening in the yard….”
Enraged, I stared at
him. “You’ve been watching us.” A shudder caught in my throat.
“No. Just you.”
“Please stop!”
“Dear Patsy,” he
said. “Don’t you know I can’t? I feel tremendously attracted to you. From the first moment our eyes linked. And I want you to be mine.”
“You’re crazy.” Fear squeezed my heart.
“Only crazy about you.”
“Hi there you two!” Nancy breezed by. “Just met Bill a few
minutes ago and he told me you guys are friends from way back.” And she sailed on by with books in her arms.
With a crooked smile,
Bill just looked at me, arching one dark brown eyebrow over a piercing blue eye.
“You’re harassing me.”
“No-o-o,” he said
calmly. “We just happen to meet each
other once in awhile. That’s hardly
harassment among friends.” He turned to
leave. “See ya, Patsy love.”
I sat staring after the
closed door frozen in my thoughts.
Breathing deeply, I analyzed
the situation. Bill was harassing
me. I knew there were laws against it. But I couldn’t go to the police. I didn’t even know his last name. And what he said was true. We didn’t see each other but he just rolled
off every activity Glenn and I had been doing recently. So he must be watching us…me. The fear factor raced down my back again.
Our girls’ get-together
at Nancy’s cottage was set for Saturday.
I was joining the group later because Glenn and I had business to tend
to first. He was leaving his company for
another and we were finalizing financial and logistical details. When I finally left for the cottage later in
the day, Glenn kissed me on my nose.
“Have a great time,” he said. I
kissed him back. Good, gentle, Glenn. How I had come to appreciate him.
It felt fine to be off
by myself. The drive gave me a chance to
sort out disturbing thoughts about the Bill dilemma. Glenn was not so complacent about Bill now
and insisted I document each time he contacted me and my reaction. If we went to the police, I needed facts. My biggest problem: no personal information
on the guy.
Halfway to the lake I
casually glanced in the rear view mirror.
The traffic had thinned; there was only one car in the distance behind
me. I kept an eye on it as the driver slowly
inched closer.
Turning left onto the
gravel road I checked my rear view mirror again. The car behind me turned left, too. I frowned and a vague uneasiness settled in
the pit of my stomach. Then I shook myself: C’mon
Pat. The driver is probably going to a
cottage along the road, too. Truly, I
was over dramatizing events.
A gang---or is it a
gaggle?---of mature girlfriends guarantees a fun time. We drank early, barbequed late, skinny dipped
in the lake, and gossiped. The best kind
of freedom day.
I was still recovering
from our Saturday party on Monday morning.
The ringing phone on my desk was an irritating interruption during the
usually early quiet hours in the library.
Sighing, I lifted the receiver.
“Hello,” his voice
purred.
I stiffened.
“Don’t hang up,” he
crooned. “I have something to tell you.”
I should have hung up
but instead I clung to the receiver, paralyzed.
Like a deer at night caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. I realized later I should have picked up a
pencil to start recording his words but his call shocked me.
“You have a beautiful
body,” he breathed. “I was captivated
when I saw you in the lake. No clothes
on. You’re in better shape than any of
your friends. I keep looking at the shot
I took.”
I slammed down the
receiver, quivering. Nancy looked over,
raised her eyebrows quizzically, then continued cataloguing.
So the car behind me had
been him after all. I should have
trusted my gut instinct. But where could
he have seen us? Was he on the ridge
that ran behind the cottage and beach?
Jittery, I changed my workout
time to match Glenn’s after his work day.
When we met, I told him about the phone call. “Jeez, this is getting serious, Patsy. We’ve got to lodge a complaint. He’s stalking you.”
His reaction didn’t
help. Glenn, always so calm and
reassuring, was expressing concern.
“Patsy,” he said. “You know I have an overnight in Ottawa this week
and now I’m worried about leaving you alone.
Why don’t you come with me?”
“This is ridiculous,
Glenn. We’re letting some creep dictate
our life. It’s crazy. You go ahead.
If I really feel nervous I’ll stay with Nance.”
When Glenn left for the
airport I was a Nervous Nellie. Reassuringly,
he called me constantly. I told him,
half-joking but dead serious, that I hid a kitchen knife under the runner on
the table by the front door. “Just in
case....” I sort of laughed. I didn’t
tell him I intended to put one under my pillow, too. A long pause on his end.
“Patsy,” he
breathed. “We have to take decisive
action about this stalker creep when I get back. We’ll go to the police. I can hardly wait to see you, hold you. Love you, girl.”
“Love you, too, big
boy,” I crooned with much more bravado than I felt.
A pink striated sunset
washed the twilight sky the night I was alone.
The heat of the day melted with a welcoming evening breeze as I stepped
outside to drink in the natural beauty. Suddenly
my peripheral vision caught a fast movement to my right. Quickly turning, I spotted the black squirrel
as it rustled among the leaves in the birch tree. He chattered at me as if to say, you are such a silly goose! I laughed and took a deep breath.
Chiding myself for
overreacting, I gazed down our stone-lined path. That’s when I saw him.
With racing heart, I
watched Bill casually saunter towards me as if he lived here. When he stood
face to face with me on the porch, he stopped.
Puzzled, with rising panic, I digested everything that followed in slow
motion.
“Good evening, Patsy-Love.” His piercing blue eyes terrified me as he
inched closer. Casually, he leaned
against the porch column. “You must be
wondering who I really am....”
Unnerved, I could not
answer. Only stared at him.
“Once upon a time,” he
began slowly as I desperately tried to think of escape... “your loving Glenn
broke my little sister’s heart. I loved
my kid sister with all my heart. Your
Glenn led her on a merry chase of pretend love then abandoned her for YOU.” I feared how he shook with rage. With narrowed eyes he whispered menacingly,
“she was fragile to begin with but after Glenn left she was devastated....”
He paused, shaking,
breathing hard, like some monster.
I took a deep breath.
“I vowed I’d hurt your
GLENN....” he spit out his name with a shout “....like he hurt my sister. She killed herself over that worthless piece
of shit...” Suddenly, he lunged towards
me.
Gasping, horrified,
speechless, I reeled away quickly.
With brute force, he
pushed me hard and backwards against the door and into the house. The last thing I remembered was reaching for
the butcher knife....
Heather
Rath
has known writing would be a major part of her life ever since she won her
first writing contest at age 11. She has been a finalist for the Galbraith
Award three times before finally winning it this year. She has been a reporter,
editor of a weekly newspaper and of a monthly business magazine, and head of
communications for a multinational company.
Her writing has been published
widely and some of her children’s stories have been translated in Braille and
has edited and contributed to two anthologies of southwestern Ontario writers. Her
novel, starring a runaway woman, is looking for a good home. Visit Heather’s
website here.
See Brian Henry’s schedule here, including writing workshops and creative writing
courses in Algonquin Park, Barrie, Bracebridge, Brampton, Burlington,
Caledon, Collingwood, Georgetown, Guelph, Hamilton, Ingersoll, Kingston,
Kitchener, London, Midland, Mississauga, Newmarket, Orillia, Oakville, Ottawa,
Peterborough, St. Catharines, Saint John, NB, Sudbury, Thessalon, Toronto,
Windsor, Halton, Kitchener-Waterloo, Muskoka, Peel, Simcoe, York, the GTA,
Ontario and beyond.
