The Watcher

29

I hesitate for a second, then lean forward and take the book I had left on the stack in Leo’s room. He thanks me for loaning it to him and turns around to go back home, but I call after him to wait and dig around in my pants pocket.

“And you forgot this.”

I hold up his house key. He slowly comes toward me, takes it out of my hand, and stuffs it into his own pocket.

“This isn’t a good solution.”

I should have said something more, but the words stick in my throat. Leo shrugs.

“Better than losing it.” There is a pause, and Leo looks askance at me. “I did get one of my shoes back, anyway.”

We look at each other. If only I weren’t so ashamed of what I’d done, I would ask. As things stand, though, I can’t bring myself to do it. Maybe he senses that. Maybe that’s why he finally says it on his own, spontaneously—faltering at first, but then with increasing detail. He explains that it started with notes slid into his books or pockets, and comments on social media: “Beanpole.” “Pizza-face retard.” “Nerd.” “Homo.” How that had progressed to pushing and jeers and graffiti on his locker at school, and then more insults: “Gross.” “Disgusting.” In the last week or so, it had ramped up.

Leo gives me an embarrassed look.

“I try to have faith that it’ll all blow over, that they’ll get tired of it and stop. I steer clear of them as much as I can, but I’m pretty much everything they hate. I love to read, don’t have any muscles, and no… girls…”

A deep redness rises up his slender neck.

Something is pulsing within me, and my sense of injustice and rage on Leo’s behalf takes over and pushes all other emotions aside.

“How long has this been going on? How long has it been like this?”

“Not that long. I had a friend before. Mostly the two of us hung out together, but then he moved over Christmas. And when school started again in January, well… yeah.”

“We have to do something. This can’t continue. I’m going to help you.”

Suddenly I’m aware that my hands are clenched into fists, tight fists. Leo notices that, too, and I quickly straighten out my fingers.

“There’s nothing you can do,” he says, shaking his head.

I don’t have a good response to this, so I turn around to lock my front door.

“My mom came home a while ago.” I hear him say this behind my back as I’m turning my key. “She didn’t say anything, just went straight to her bedroom. Now she’s lying in bed again, as if nothing happened.”

I slowly turn back around to face him, stuffing my key in my pocket. Leo flings up his hands in puzzlement.

“Where did she go?” he blurts out, crossing his arms. “I don’t want… I can’t handle being at home right now.”

I stand completely still. I really need to go grocery shopping before my sister’s visit. But how can I turn my back on him after what I’ve done, after what he’s told me? How can I go off and leave him with that look on his face?

“Come on,” I say, taking out my key again. “Come in for a bit.”

I turn off my computer, open the blinds, and stack the research books back up.

“I won’t stay long,” Leo says. “I just don’t get it.”

He stands in the middle of the room with his hands stuffed into the back pockets of his jeans.

“She went out today, downtown or somewhere. How does that fit with lying in bed all the time, with her telling Dad she’s sick?”

He glances at me and shakes his head.

“I don’t get it,” he repeats.

I indicate that he should have a seat, and he sits down in the chair where I was sitting a little while earlier. I take the other seat. My legs are stiff as I cross them and study Leo across the table. Is he planning to comment at all about my having been in his house? When he was standing down there at the bottom of the stairs, surely he must have heard me come out of his parents’ bedroom and understood that I had been somewhere I shouldn’t have been?

But Leo doesn’t say anything. His face doesn’t reveal any sign that he holds what happened earlier against me or that he’s even aware of it. It’s as if the moment we spent standing over there staring at each other—me at the top of his stairs and him at the bottom—never happened.

Leo turns toward the window and sticks a finger into one of the flowerpots, saying that he needs to check if they need watering. I suppose I am one of those people who gets so engrossed in my writing that I overlook everyday tasks. I nod, admitting that he might be onto something there.

“Because you’re working on something, aren’t you? You’re writing something new, right?”

I nod again, and Leo’s eyes instantly light up. He asks me to tell him more.

“You don’t need to give away the whole plot, but what’s happening in the chapter you’re working on right now?”

I don’t know what comes over me. Normally I don’t discuss the content of what I’m writing, not until the manuscript is done. Maybe it’s the sight of his sudden burst of enthusiasm that does it. Or maybe it’s because I feel like I owe him something.

“It’s about a woman,” I respond. “She’s acting weird, hiding a bunch of things.”

“Like what?”

I rest my chin on my hand.

“Well, for example, she does some online searches. She hangs out in certain forums where… well, where normal people don’t usually go. Violent forums.”

“Is that a hard scene to write?”

“Mmm.” I brush imaginary crumbs off the tabletop. “What’s hard is getting it to feel authentic, real.”

Leo leans forward over the table.

“You mean… so that it feels like real web searches, ones a real woman would do?”

“More or less, yeah.” I look up and our eyes lock. It’s time to steer this conversation in another direction. “Hey, by the way, how did it go with your essay? Have you turned it in yet?”

Leo shakes his head, says he needs to revise it one more time before he’s satisfied. While he talks, he turns his attention toward the stack of research books beside him and absentmindedly runs his finger over them. Then one of the books catches his eye.

“My mom has this one, too.”

He pulls out the book and holds it up for me. It’s Getting Away with Murder. Even though I was just holding it myself a few minutes ago, it looks different now. In Leo’s hands, the cover becomes darker, more sinister. The title roars out its message.

“How long has she had it?”

“Huh?”

“When did she buy it?”

Leo’s eyebrows go up. He looks like he’s trying to remember.

“I don’t know. Maybe… it could be, I’m not sure, but…”

As he contemplates, he draws out his words. The kitchen clock ticks in the background. It ticks louder and louder with each sentence Leo leaves unfinished, with each guess that he doesn’t find the words to express.

“When did she buy it, Leo, when? Was it recently?”

It’s not until I notice Leo’s upturned face that I realize I’ve stood up and am standing across from him. There’s something about his facial expression… My questions concern him, that much is clear. A string of little beads of sweat has formed on his upper lip.

He shrugs. He wishes he knew, but unfortunately… Then he puts the book back on the top of the stack and stands up as well.

The atmosphere between us has changed—or am I just imagining that? I follow Leo out into the front hall and ask if his dad is home, too, mostly just to make small talk. He shakes his head, says his father has an important meeting tonight, even though it’s Friday.

“But he’ll be home anyway, even if he’s really late, because tomorrow he and my mom are going to take a little trip together, just the two of them.”

“Really? Where to?”

Leo jams his feet into his shoes.

“Dunno. My mom’s having a birthday soon, and I guess my dad arranged something just for the two of them. It’s going to be a surprise, but I think I know what they’re going to do.” He pauses briefly before he continues, without my asking. “Dad has been talking about wanting to take Mom hiking in the mountains nearby. He’s been wanting to do it for a long time. The view from the top is supposed to be amazing.”

Leo imitates someone else’s voice when he says that last part. I assume he’s mimicking his father, but I hardly notice it. My head is spinning. I can’t wrap my head around what he’s saying.

“But your mom, would she even be up to that? She’s on sick leave and not—”

“Oh, that’s just during the day. Apparently she’s capable of more than one might think.”

Leo’s voice sounds normal again, and there’s a sharp edge to it. He opens the door and hesitates with his hand on the door handle.

“But you’re right. If they do actually go on their trip, it’ll be kind of a miracle. They’ve been going through a rough patch lately. I’m sure they think I don’t notice, but…”

He leaves the sentence unfinished, sneaking a peek at me.

“It’s not always that easy, being married, is it?”

I shake my head.

“No, it is not.”

Leo says goodbye and wishes me luck with my writing before returning home. But he doesn’t make it very far before he stops and turns around. We stand there looking at each other through the last fading rays of daylight.

“I can check her search history if you want.”

Before I have a chance to respond, before I even have a chance to process the words, he’s turned his back on me again. This time he sets off running.

I stand by my front door and watch him go. I can’t move, can hardly breath. What does he mean? Why is he offering to check Veronica’s search history? Surely he doesn’t think that… Something is bugging me in the back of my mind, something we just talked about.

Across the way, he opens the door, then closes it, and I’m still standing here. It’s almost sunset and there’s a cool breeze, which brings me back to life. I go back inside for my down vest and put it on before locking the door and hurrying off.

Out on the street, I call my sister. I’m planning to ask her what she feels like eating. To tell her I’m looking forward to seeing her tonight. But when she answers, something completely different comes out of my mouth.

“I’m sorry,” I say, “but I have to cancel dinner tonight.”