The Secret

 

The growth was getting bigger and slowly eating away his flesh at a sorrowful rate, fast for cancer, but not very fast when compared to most everything else. That’s why my roommate didn’t come back to live with me after Christmas break, he was being slowly eaten by himself. I audibly thanked him every morning as I scooped dark roast into his coffee maker and wandered around the living room free of the TV that he took home. His absence left me feeling so alone that I craved to be annoyed.

I moved back in to my small two-bedroom house earlier than most of the college town and entertained myself by watching the neighborhood closely. To make it more exciting I obscured my vision with a blanket covering all but a tiny slit on my face, or stood in the hallway far enough back so I could barely see through a crack in the blinds parts of bodies or wheels of cars passing. Sometimes I laughed a little, shimmying on the ground like a water moccasin. I’d slither on the tile floor wearing nothing but a huge down comforter and whisper stories to myself, laughing when my desperate plea for excitement was satisfied by imagining anyone knowing what I was doing.

The way I was acting was that of insanity, but nothing is insane when you are completely alone.

Eventually, however, even that started to bore me and my hobbies matured in their strangeness. My only real case of stalking was that of Donna Holland. Up to that point I’d been safely disconnected from everyone I watched because I didn’t truly care what they were doing so I was bold and innocent. But unlike the rest, I was mortified at the thought of this new girl seeing me watch her. It wasn’t her age or sex that threw me, the neighborhood had an average age of twenty-two years and was pretty evenly peppered with all the sexes. The only way to find out what it was about her that paralyzed me was to watch her more; it was a catch-22 that kept me occupied and alert all hours of the day. I cracked my window and laid still on my bed, clothed and under a blanket, listening to my new neighbor move in. That was when I first heard her name,

“Are you Donna Holland?” The middle age man in grey pants said with the key to the single bedroom house next door.

 “That’s me,” Her voice sang sardonic and bored with extra time spent phonating the vowels. 

The stalking went on for days, and kept me on edge because Donna wasn’t a girl of routine. Sometimes it would be in the morning that she would take the little yapper named Scout for a walk, but often it wouldn’t be until the afternoon or late at night. She trimmed her shrubs, softly whistled Neil Young tunes I recognized, and was always coming and going like rain clouds in her deep red jalopy.

Classes started back and soon the town appeared, going into a mad frenzy with all the hard working ants bustling and biting the shoe that stepped on their mound. But all I could ever think about was Donna and our lonely companionship.

It wasn’t so much that she was beautiful, but she was. She had a particular nose that looked broken, an accent to her soft cheekbones and small neck. She had deep brown hair and walked like a thought, always humming and singing to match her mood.

- - - - -

I never meant to kill her dog, but with all that time to think I did devise a wonderful plan; I couldn’t have anticipated how awfully well it was going to work. The sun was just beginning to set over the neighborhood at the quiet pocket of time near the end of day when everything is soft and slow and trancelike. The little yapper Scout was roaming around our adjoining yards and streets and reminded me of myself, just looking for something to excite him. I waited. Scout finally smelled his way into my yard and I snatched him like a bear to a trout and brought him behind my house to the garage.

As the loud metal door mechanically closed behind us I fumbled to knot each of his front feet to the two ropes already attached to the opposite walls of the garage. He didn’t fight much, only gnawed at my garden-gloved hands in annoyance in between yaps as I secured the ropes to his legs. With the ropes tightened he looked like he was trying to give the concrete floor a giant hug, but the noises he began to make didn’t match that body language.

The way I was acting was that of cruelty, but nothing is cruel when you are completely alone.

I tightened the ropes so that Scout’s face was yapping with his jaw on the cold concrete, front legs stretched wide attached to the small cords. He was yapping like hell and his head would bounce with each unique yelp; I made sure to avoid eye contact.

            Donna would be home any second now, so I made one more check to see that everything was in place before I walked in a sorrowful trance to the driver’s side door. With Scout slowing to a thoroughly confused howl, I cranked my old coughing engine and highlighted “R” with a determined, though absent, right hand and let off the brake, rolling over Scout’s curly haired front left leg. It was a tight squeeze with the garage door closed to dampen the barking, but after less than a second I was sure I had cleared his leg and begun something I could never take back.

An unexpected twist in the plan was the decision as to how humane I was going to act, for surely if I kept with my mood at the time, slowly and meticulously working, I would have soon been a deranged psychotic. On the other hand, if I embraced the natural empathy I felt for Scout and raced around frantically I could have quickly messed everything up. I settled for simply getting him untied and talking calmly, promising him that his sacrifice would not be in vain. His pain forced him to relax in my arms while I gently held the ice to his leg and we waited for Donna.

Thankfully for all of us, she was only four minutes away, but we waited an extra two for good measure before running to her front door. I knocked frantically, embracing my empathy, and waited the realistic twenty-six seconds that it takes someone to actually come to the front door. When Donna finally came to the door she looked at us then immediately back into her living room, as if to say that the Scout I was holding couldn’t be her Scout, and that he must be around here somewhere. That all happened in the split second before I said,

“Hey! Sorry, I live next door, that one, and uh-”

“Scout!” Donna said as she reached for him.

“Yeah he uh, he got hit by a blue Chevy about 20 minutes ago, I was getting my mail and I saw everything.” I was talking too fast, surely she knew everything, I knew I was done for.

“Oh Scout!”

The hairy mess used what was left of his energy and yelps to scramble with his three working legs out of my arms toward her.

Donna gently took Scout and brought him uncomfortably close to her face before saying, “What were you thinking?” Looking up at me she calmed her tone and said, “Thank you, thank you for- I have to take him to the emergency room, this looks awful.”

Knowing it was probably too soon but taking advantage of the situation I offered,

“If you want to just hold him I could drive y’all to the animal hospital in town, its only like twelve minutes away.” I was doing it again, being way too obvious, what sane person wouldn’t just round to ten or fifteen minutes?

“Oh would you? We can take my car, I’m new I don’t know where anything is.”

The way that people accept charity in a time of crisis is refreshing.

“I have my keys right here, just come over we’ll take mine.” I said already moving in the direction of my house.

“Um, yeah, yeah okay,” She followed after a pause, “I’m so sorry, I’m Donna thank you for all of this.”

“I’m Stu. No problem, really.” I opened the passenger side door of my car that was already waiting in the driveway. “Hop in.”

- - - - -

We moved quickly and were in the waiting room before long. We sat like two children whose parents were long lost friends deep in conversation but brought their kids along so they could play, naively thinking that the next generation would “hit it off.” We just stared at the wall.

I didn’t anticipate how upset Donna would be, knowing how flippant and careless she seemed I couldn’t figure how she could have invested so much love in the tiny yapper. I trusted the rest of the plan to my instinct, and with her standing and sitting and mumbling and pacing I remembered the little orange bottle in my glove box. I only caught a couple of the words that softly escaped her, “Leash… she was right… responsibility…” as I slipped out to the car and back without her noticing.

“Hey, Donna? I just grabbed these from the car, they were my old roommates and he would sometimes give them to me when I got stressed out. It’ll really make you feel better.”

“What are they?” she looked up from the crack on the floor and said more sternly than I predicted.

“Oh I don’t know, antidepressants or pain killers or some-”

Before I could finish she took the bottle and two white pills were in the back of her throat, then gone. She immediately stood up and continued pacing. I stared at the bottle for a few seconds before following suit, then resumed my staring.

“Would you like some water while you wait?” A young nurse said politely behind the front desk, “Sir?”

“Hey Stu.”

Donna’s voice snapped my daze and brought the nurse’s question out of my subconscious, “Oh, no. I’m not thirsty, thanks.”

“Just let me or Cindy know if you need anything at all.” The nurse said with a southern smile.

“Okay,” I nodded once and tried to match her grin, “Thanks.”

The waiting room was just as free from other human bodies as before, but slowly began to feel much less empty. Donna eventually sat down, I think she even smiled a couple times as she told me stories about Scout, then about her past year, then her whole life. She calmly took care of the paperwork and asked me to hold Scout, laughing at his tiny bandage and talking all the more. When we pulled into my garage she didn’t even notice the broken ropes staring at us from low on the ground; we were chest deep in a conversation about selfish friends and food and professors and countless other topics I can’t begin to remember in full. We never mentioned the drugs and just enjoyed the effects, pretending that the evening was truly as enjoyable as we were experiencing. Scout yap-whined off to sleep and we drifted closer on the couch; I was completely removed from the idea that I had created this moment and I closed my eyes to embrace the present.

I woke up the next morning to Scout’s yaps and was lying on the floor cozy and neat next to Donna, curled perfectly to me in her silence and beauty. Apparently even in our pill-state we knew we didn’t quite want to share a bed yet so we just rolled onto the floor and dreamed. Our conversations were distant and confusing in my mind like a TV on in another room. I laid in this place of togetherness for long precious moments before I scooted away to a neutral position and waited for Scout’s morning yaps to take effect.

She finally stirred then rolled onto her stomach, surprisingly in my direction, and yawned with her head buried in her crossed arms. Right as the yawn was verging on completion she chuckle-grunted, then let out a little laugh.

“Stu, what in the world happened last night?”

Not quite knowing how to react but seeing that Donna was not running away I let out a weak laugh, my thoughts still working at morning-speed, and said, “Your uh, your little buddy had an accident? Then we took a bunch of drugs?”

Donna laughed more into her arms then looked up to call Scout over; he just whined and kept pitifully trying to figure out how to get around with the pain in his wrapped leg. “I have class at ten.”

“Yeah,” I said slowly “I had class at nine.” I unknowingly slid my arm toward her and took her hand.

She looked up at me with loose eyelids, then shut them softly. When she rested her head back on her left arm, our love affair had begun.

- - - - -

Our relationship started about as slowly as a falling piano; we were never apart. After she joked about turning off her power because she was never home we began spending more time there, not really caring where we were but unable to get enough of each other. Scout was our dysfunctional family’s child with his belongings spread over two homes, but our relationship was nothing of the sort. Months passed in unison with the sports that we didn’t really care about. We’d go to basketball games and share popcorn; we were good at sharing, and it was never the obnoxious selfish service to earn points. We truly cared about each other but respected ourselves, laughing at and helping all of our friends’ relationships that always seemed to go wrong. It was that sort of connection and honesty that gave me the bitter cringe whenever I thought about the ropes. Why couldn’t I have just knocked on her door and asked her out? Or even just returned Scout unharmed? I had to tell her. She deserved it.

I let myself be tortured by the thoughts of Scout for months on end, Donna only making it worse by being so patient with my guilt related moods. One night I had a dream that Scout told Donna everything, then stood by her side barking and laughing as she shot me again and again in the chest. If it wasn’t for the excessive treats and caressing, I’m sure Scout would have found a way to tell Donna somehow.

            Donna was good with mornings and always got weird at night, so I finally decided one morning that it was about the best opportunity I’d ever have. We’d been together for over a year and had made it past many benchmarks and checkpoints; Scout was running and yapping like new and his only visible scar was his inability to enter a garage at his own will. I asked her to come sit down. Mid whistle she put down her oatmeal, floated into the living room and plopped next to me on the couch, graceful and true like a pillow dropped on a mattress.

“What’s up, Stu?” She was the perfect mixture of attentive and relaxed.

“Donna, okay. So when you moved in I was really lonely,” She nodded. “And I would keep an eye on things- I was stalking you, really. I watched your every move from when you moved in with your parents to the day I knocked on your door.”

She just smiled and dismissed it, somewhat flattered, “Well I don’t really blame you, we both got here when it was still a total ghost town.”

“No, listen. I saw Scout in my yard while you were gone and I took him into my garage and tied him up and ran over his leg. I did it so I could have a reason to meet you, I know you’re going to hate me but I just couldn’t go any longer with you not knowing.”

Donna just stared with her eyebrows raised and clenched at the same time like a disgusted cartoon.

“Donna. Donna I’m so sorry.”

Donna stared for long drawn out seconds, maybe even minutes, but she just stared at the wall and I looked at the ground. Finally she shook her head and sat up, “Stu, I knew you were weird, but that,” She looked down, ashamed, “That’s just insane.”

I resolved that it must be over, what was I thinking? That she would just smile and move on? All I said was, “I know. I just, I don’t know.” I started thinking logistically: who I could call to help me move all her stuff out, whether or not she would press charges for animal cruelty, what I was going to happen to our plane tickets to Switzerland.

I almost stood up to walk away when she started more softly than before, “Listen Stu, I don’t know how to say this, I mean I forgive you, I’m not even thinking about Scout really. There’s something I have to tell you, I just never thought I’d have the chance but now that you’ve been so honest with me I feel like I have to, I just wasn’t prepared to do it now.”

She had acknowledged my darkest secret for just seconds and had already forgiven me and moved on, what in the world could be on her mind? “You don’t have to tell me now if it’s too much.”

She showed a face that even I had never seen before and just kept staring.

With the infinite patience that she deserved, I said, “Really, it doesn’t have to be now. Whatever’s best for you.”

Donna took a deep breath, “No, no, it needs to be now.” She leaned in close, and whispered. Scout had wandered outside, and she whispered to me something she had never even told her showerhead.

- - - - -

I felt like I was at the animal hospital again, except this time I was Donna, or even Scout. I got up from the couch and walked to the bathroom, Donna was a faint echo in another part of my consciousness. I choked on my breath and tried to throw up in the toilet but nothing came out; the patient tap on the door turned to pounding and the explanations turned to desperate one-liners.

“I didn’t know you then!”

I climbed out the window, everything in a haze around me.

“I thought you loved me!” Slow, rhythmic pounding on the door. “I can really explain! Please let me explain!”

That was the last I heard before I crawled out the window to wander the cracked sidewalk path past unkempt overgrown yards. The whole walk felt as if it was underwater, sounds were mere deflating balloons and I only breathed the little I needed of the apathetic morning air. I don’t quite know how long she banged and screamed but when I finally came home I told Donna that it was probably best if she slept at her house.

With a short, bashful moment of eye contact she barely said, “I really want to talk.” Her eyeballs were maroon and she was sitting on the ground with her legs in parallel V’s like a sad dancer. I wiggled the toes in my shoes, my feet were sore, I could have been gone hours. As she untangled herself to rise, keeping sight of the floor all she said was, “Stu.” She said it in a sort of way that wasn’t an inquiry or a demand but only a statement.

I avoided her successfully for three full days until she started figuring out my tricks. She would wait under the windows I snuck in, nattering words like a motorcycle engine between her tears until I walked, crawled, or climbed silently into my house.

She started losing weight, I stopped hearing Scout yap, and she would often sleep under my bedroom window for days; I slept in the bathtub. I decided after finals that it was best that I move back home. I packed a few things in the trunk and checked the backseat for any signs of Donna. Thinking of Sal and Dean but feeling none of their freedom, I took off with a wheel in my hand and four on the road.

The way I was acting was that of bitterness, but everything is bitter when you are completely alone.