Calling My Admirer
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“This is the best day of my life,” I said, “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
We were in our hotel room. It was a suite with two bedrooms and an enormous bathroom that took up half the space. We had both been to Vegas before but never together so it felt like a dream come true. The only thing missing from the experience was alcohol.
Neither one of us drank much at all anymore, especially not when there wasn’t any good reason for it. That’s why we’d decided on going sober tonight as well – no drinking just because you could or because everyone else around you did. As far as we were concerned, if someone wanted to get drunk they should do it without feeling pressured into joining them.
Besides this, neither of us liked being hungover anyway; it made everything feel more difficult than usual, even though most people would say otherwise about hangovers.
The first time I saw her face she came out of nowhere, walking down the street towards me while holding a pair of binoculars in front of her eyes. She wore black jeans and a white shirt with ruffled sleeves, but what really caught my attention was how short her hair was cut.
Most girls who went for such a look tended to have long flowing locks but hers looked almost boyish. Her skin was pale and smooth too, making her seem younger than she actually was. When she got closer I recognized her immediately: it was Alexia, a girl I hadn’t seen since high school.
She walked right past me without saying anything, continuing across the road until she reached another building where she disappeared inside. A few minutes later she emerged again carrying a large bag over her shoulder. Then she turned away from me and started heading back home.
After watching her go for a little longer I realized something strange had happened. For some reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Even now, after seeing her leave, I still found myself wondering whether or not she might be interested in talking to me instead. Maybe if I called out to her… No, that wouldn’t work either.
If she didn’t want to talk then nothing I could say would change things. But maybe if I just kept following her? Or better yet, maybe if I followed her for a whole week…?
That thought led to another idea: what if I met her somewhere outside each morning and waited for her to emerge once more? What if I ran after her every single day? And then, one day, I finally managed to catch up with her and ask her out properly? Would that make it okay somehow?
I knew it probably wouldn’t but I also suspected it would give me a lot of satisfaction nonetheless. I imagined how it would feel to stand next to her as she left the house, waiting for her to walk by and hoping she would see me standing there.
Then, one day, she did. I don’t know exactly how many days passed between those moments, but eventually, she stopped turning around when she heard footsteps behind her. Instead, she began looking straight ahead, as though trying to ignore whatever was happening.
Eventually, she mustered enough courage to turn around and stare directly at me. I smiled nervously, unsure of what to think or do.
Then she spoke. “Hi…”
It sounded awkward coming out of her mouth but I nodded anyway. This was it! Finally, she was here. Now I could tell her how I felt and, hopefully, she would understand. All I needed to do was wait patiently for her response, knowing full well that there was absolutely no way she could refuse me.
But she didn’t need to reply, because I already understood. There was no point asking her out now; it simply wasn’t possible. Why? Because the moment I asked her out she would disappear forever. Just like that, she would vanish and I’d never hear from her again.
So, instead of risking losing her completely, I decided to keep chasing her until she vanished altogether. Every day I stood in front of her place, ready to run after her whenever she appeared. Each night I returned to my own apartment, disappointed and confused. Did she ever feel the same way I did? Was she even aware of the fact that I existed?
One day, however, I noticed something different about her. Something that hadn’t occurred to me previously. Wherever she went, she always carried the binoculars in front of her eyes. Whenever I watched her through them, she seemed lost in her thoughts.
Sometimes she stared straight ahead, other times she scanned the area carefully. Inevitably, this meant that she was constantly moving her head, causing her long blonde hair to flutter wildly. Yet despite all these movements, I had never once spotted her using her phone.
How odd. Hadn’t she ever used it before? Perhaps she didn’t use technology very often, or perhaps it was broken. Either way, I became convinced that she preferred doing things manually rather than relying on gadgets. It made sense to me, given that she was so young.
And besides, I liked the idea of her being old-fashioned. That’s why I decided to start calling her ‘old-school’ from that day onward.
I continued following her daily routine for several weeks until, one evening, I received an unexpected visit from my sister. As soon as she arrived we sat down together and talked. At first, everything was fine. We chatted casually about our lives and laughed about silly stories from years ago.
However, after a while, I grew increasingly uncomfortable. My sister looked at me strangely and, although she tried hard not to show it, I sensed she was getting annoyed with me. She wanted to get back to her life and I clearly wasn’t helping matters.
Although I couldn’t explain it, I suddenly felt suffocated. I desperately needed to escape, which is why I suggested that she should take a shower and relax a bit. The water helped clear away the tension and, afterward, she joined me in bed. But the feeling remained.
Eventually, I realized what was wrong. When I had been alone, I enjoyed talking to my sister. After all, she was someone who cared about me deeply and I loved spending time with her. Of course, I still missed her terribly, but I felt comfortable around her.
Unfortunately, however, I wasn’t able to say the same thing about my neighbor. Her presence was making me anxious and I couldn’t stop thinking about her. If only I could have explained myself better, maybe she would’ve understood. Maybe she would realize just how much I cared about her.
But I couldn’t find the right words. Besides, I doubted she would believe anything I said. For some reason, she always gave off an air of indifference towards everyone else.
In any case, I had no choice but to continue seeing her. I couldn’t risk losing her entirely. One day, however, I discovered something new about her. A small detail that made her seem less cold and distant. On the surface, nothing had changed but I felt like something inside of me had shifted.
From then on, whenever I saw her I focused more on the details. I started paying attention to her facial expressions and mannerisms. I stopped trying to read between the lines and began looking directly into her soul. I found that I actually enjoyed observing her.
The next morning, when I woke up, I immediately thought about her. I smiled to myself, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to avoid her today. I hurriedly got dressed and headed outside. Sure enough, she was standing in front of her door, waiting for me.
Once again, she held the binoculars in front of her face. I walked over to her and placed my hand on top of hers. Instantly, she turned to look at me. Our gazes met and I knew exactly what she was going to say.
“Hello.”
My heart skipped a beat. Could it really be true? For the first time since I’d known her, she was speaking to me without hiding behind those glasses. What was happening? Was she finally opening up to me? Did she want us to become friends?
Or was she simply being polite because she had already seen me arrive? Whatever the answer, I didn’t care. All I wanted was for her to keep smiling at me like that. So, I took out my phone and pretended to check the messages.
Then, slowly, I lowered my gaze and gazed into her beautiful blue eyes. They were filled with curiosity and wonder. There was no longer any anger there. Instead, I saw pure happiness. An emotion I hadn’t experienced in ages.
A few seconds passed and I felt a strange sensation running through my body. Something warm and pleasant spread throughout my entire being. I wasn’t sure if it was love or lust. Regardless, I felt a deep connection with her. Without realizing it, I had begun falling in love with my neighbor.
We spent the rest of the day walking alongside each other. Occasionally, she glanced over at me but mostly kept her eyes fixed firmly on the ground. I followed suit and did my best to remain inconspicuous. It was nice having someone to talk to.
Someone who shared similar interests and hobbies. Who understood me so well. And yet, despite this, I still felt lonely. Why was that? Perhaps I was simply missing my family. Maybe they weren’t here anymore. That’s probably why I felt such pain.
Every now and then, I caught sight of my reflection in a shop window. In fact, I even recognized myself. How odd! I never used to think of myself as ugly. Yet, somehow, I was starting to feel differently.
I watched my own image walk past me and wondered whether I should change my appearance. Surely, it must have been difficult living amongst people who looked down upon you. No matter where I went, I always seemed to attract stares from passers-by.
Even though we lived side by side, most of them treated me like I was invisible. This was especially true during the school holidays. The moment I stepped foot onto campus, students would start whispering among themselves.
Their eyes would dart back and forth, searching for signs of danger. I soon learned not to make eye contact with anyone. Otherwise, I might end up getting beaten up. As far as I could tell, nobody ever bothered to get to know me. Not once had anybody asked me my name.
I guess that was normal, given the circumstances. However, I sometimes wished that things could be different. Just one person, perhaps…
As I continued walking along the pavement, I noticed another figure approaching me. He was tall and lean. His hair was short and black. To his left, he wore a pair of aviator sunglasses. I assumed these belonged to him. The man appeared to be in his mid-twenties.
Although I couldn’t see much of his face, I guessed that he was quite handsome. After all, how many men can claim to possess an attractive smile? But, instead of greeting me, the stranger stared straight ahead. I tried waving at him, but he ignored me completely.
Eventually, our paths crossed and he strode away. I waited until I heard footsteps fade before turning around. When I did, I found myself staring right at Miss Potts’ house. She was just about to open her front door.
She stood there, looking confused and unsure. Her mouth opened slightly as she struggled to find the words. Before long, she spoke. “Excuse me?”
“Oh…”
Miss Potts frowned and folded her arms across her chest. My throat suddenly felt dry. I swallowed hard and cleared my voice. “Uh, hi!”
Her expression softened somewhat. “Hi,” she replied. Then, after a brief pause, she added: “You’re new aren’t you?”
I nodded nervously.
“Well, come inside. You’ll catch your death standing outside in the cold.”
Without thinking, I quickly walked toward her.
“What is it?”
Before I knew what was happening, I blurted out everything that had happened today. From the moment I arrived home, to the arrival of the police officer. Everything. I told her every detail. About my parents, my sister, the fire, and the way people had reacted to the news.
I also explained how I ended up sleeping rough in the park. Finally, I finished off by telling her about the woman called Mrs. Williams.
While listening to my story, Miss Potts remained silent for almost ten minutes. At last, however, she broke the silence. “So…you don’t remember anything else?”
The question caught me by surprise. Of course, I remembered something! I recalled seeing my mother’s dead body lying beside the bed. I’d seen the flames engulfing the building. I even saw my father carrying me into the kitchen. What more do you want?!
“No,” I said quietly.
Miss Potts sighed heavily. “That’s okay. We’ll try again tomorrow.”
My heart sank. Was she going to give up on me? Did I really look so pathetic?
After a moment, Miss Potts turned and began walking away. For some reason, I didn’t follow her. Instead, I gazed up at the sky. A few clouds drifted lazily overhead. They were white and fluffy. Like cotton wool.
Then, without warning, the wind picked up. It started blowing fiercely, causing the trees lining the street to sway violently. Leaves fell from their branches and scattered across the road. More than fifty yards away, I spotted two figures running through the park.
One was a young boy, while the other was an older lady wearing glasses and holding a dog leash. Both of them disappeared behind a large oak tree. Moments later, they reappeared. Only this time, both of them had changed color. The little boy was now blue, whereas the old lady was purple.
A sudden gust of wind blew against my cheek. Instinctively, I rubbed my skin. As I did, I realized that my fingers were covered in goosebumps. Goosebumps. That meant winter was coming. Winter was fast approaching. If only I could go back in time…
***
When I woke up the next morning, I was alone.
It wasn’t until I got downstairs and stepped outside onto the porch that I finally remembered where I was. And why.
For a second, I thought I might have been dreaming. However, when I looked down at my hands, I discovered that I still possessed human flesh. In fact, my entire body seemed to be made of the same stuff. Just like it used to be.
But then, I remembered. Yesterday, I’d spoken to Doctor Stevens. He’d confirmed that I hadn’t gone insane. Apparently, he’d examined my brain using a special machine which allowed him to peer deep into its inner workings.
According to him, everything was normal. There was no sign of any mental illness or disease. Which meant I must’ve lost my memory due to trauma. Or shock. Something similar.
Sitting on the edge of the porch, I took a seat and closed my eyes. I concentrated hard and tried to recall everything I could about yesterday’s events. But nothing came to mind. Not one single thing.
At least not yet.
Eventually, I decided to head over to the library. Maybe I would discover something useful there. After all, Miss Potts suggested that I start reading books. She believed that doing so might help jog my memories. Although, given my current situation, I doubted that such a tactic would work. Still, perhaps I should try anyway. Anything was worth a shot.
As I left the house, I noticed that the weather was much colder than usual. Despite the sun is high above the horizon, thick clouds hovered low in the sky. Dark grey. Almost black. Judging by the way the breeze blew past my face, I suspected it wouldn’t be long before snowflakes started falling.
There was another problem too. Over the last couple of days, my stomach had grown increasingly painful. Whenever I ate, I experienced severe cramps. The pain was constant and excruciating. With each passing hour, it grew worse. By mid-morning, I found myself feeling nauseous. Fortunately, though, nausea soon passed. Unfortunately, the pains never did.
I walked along the road and headed towards the town center. On the way, I stopped at a small café. Inside, I ordered a cup of coffee and a slice of cake. Then, after taking a sip, I sat down at a table and waited patiently for the food to arrive.
Eventually, a waitress brought over my order. I thanked her and placed the tray on top of the table. Once she’d taken the money, I asked if anyone else was around. To my relief, they weren’t. So, I grabbed the book I’d borrowed from Miss Potts and opened it.
To my disappointment, however, I couldn’t read anything. At first, I wondered whether the words had become blurry because of the cold air. Yet as I stared harder, I realised that wasn’t the case. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t make out a single word. Even the letters themselves appeared distorted.
Feeling frustrated, I slammed the book shut and threw it aside. My hand stung with pain. Probably because I’d accidentally broken the spine. When I glanced up, I saw a man sitting nearby. His face was wrinkled and his hair was thinning.
He wore a dark suit and held a newspaper in front of himself. However, despite looking very old, he also moved quite quickly. Before I knew what was happening, he reached inside the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a pair of scissors.
Without hesitating, he stabbed the tip into my arm and cut open a vein. Blood gushed forth from within me and drenched the pages of my book. It ran across the page and splashed onto the floor.
The man stood up and casually wiped the blood off his shoes. Then, without saying a word, he turned and walked away. Leaving me lying there, bleeding profusely.
After a few moments, I managed to get to my feet. A sharp ache pulsated through every part of my body. I staggered forward and stumbled towards the door. Just as I was reaching for the handle, a woman called out to me. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I replied.
She helped me to my feet and led me back to my table. From there, we went upstairs to the café’s bathroom. While I washed the wound, she bandaged it tightly. Afterward, I returned home. As I was walking along the street, I spotted a familiar figure standing near the entrance to a shop.
Dr Stevens?
I approached him warily. For some reason, I felt nervous. What if he recognized me? If so, I didn’t know what I would do. I certainly couldn’t tell him who I really was. That would mean revealing my secret identity.
And even though I trusted Dr. Stevens, I still worried that he might reveal my true self to someone else. Someone like Inspector Henderson. Who would then pass on the information to the media? Thus causing an uproar. Or maybe I shouldn’t worry about that. Perhaps it was best if everyone thought of me as a crazy person. One who’d lost her memory after suffering a traumatic event.
When I got closer, I could see that he was staring intently at a poster hanging on the wall behind him. It showed a picture of two children. Both were young boys. They looked happy and healthy. But their faces bore no resemblance to mine or any other child I knew. Instead, they reminded me more of those belonging to infants.
“Do you recognize them?” asked Dr. Stevens.
My heart skipped a beat. Had he seen me talking to the police officer yesterday? Was he here to arrest me now? I panicked and took a step backward. Thankfully, I managed to stop myself in time. “No.”
He nodded. Then he continued gazing at the photograph. After a while, he spoke again: “They’re twins. Two little boys. Six years old. Their names are Oliver and William. Do you have any idea why they’ve been missing since Sunday night?”
Again, I shook my head. How could I possibly answer such a question? Did he think I could help him find the boys? Couldn’t he understand that I had absolutely no clue where they might be? All I wanted was to forget everything that had happened to me. I needed to erase all my memories of the past week. If only I could go back to being normal again. To live a life free of secrets and lies.
But I couldn’t. Not yet anyway. Because I still hadn’t found the answers I desperately sought. The truth about my father. About this place. And most importantly, about the strange events that had occurred during the last seven days.
***
On Monday morning, Detective Sergeant Cooper arrived at my house shortly before eight o’clock. She was accompanied by three other officers. Each one carried a large suitcase full of evidence bags.
Although I’d never met any of these men, I instantly sensed that they were highly experienced detectives. So much so, that I immediately became suspicious. Why did they need four people to investigate a simple kidnapping case? Surely, they should be able to carry out their work alone.
However, when I questioned the sergeant, she refused to comment on the subject. Instead, she explained that the investigation into the disappearance of the two children was proceeding well. In fact, the force was already making progress. Which meant that soon, the culprits responsible for abducting the boys would be brought to justice.
That wasn’t good enough for me. I needed to know exactly how far the police had progressed. Yet when I tried asking questions, the detective kept changing the topic. This made me feel uncomfortable and angry.
Eventually, I gave up trying to ask anything further. I decided not to push things too hard. After all, I was just a witness. Nothing more than a concerned citizen. There was nothing wrong with wanting to learn as much as possible about the situation.
As the day wore on, I spent another hour speaking to Inspector Henderson in his office. He told me that he believed my story was genuine. However, he also admitted that it was incredibly difficult to prove something that seemed entirely unbelievable.
Even though he agreed that my account sounded plausible, he simply couldn’t accept it as gospel. At least, not yet. Until I provided proof, he wouldn’t take my claims seriously.
The following afternoon, I visited Dr. Stevens once again. Once again, he treated my wounds without saying a word. When I left the surgery, I noticed that several police cars were parked outside. A large crowd of journalists had gathered around the building. Some of them were shouting questions at the policemen present. Others were taking photographs of the scene.
Later that evening, I received a call from Detective Sergeant Cooper. She informed me that the police had arrested one of the suspects involved in the abduction of the twin brothers. Apparently, he was currently sitting in custody awaiting trial. She promised to keep me updated regarding future developments. As she said goodbye, I heard her say: “Good luck with your search for the truth.”
I thanked her and hung up. Then I sat down at my computer and began writing a letter. I wrote about everything that had happened over the past few weeks. Everything except my involvement in the matter. That part remained off limits. I didn’t want anyone else to find out what really happened. Especially not the police. Who knows if they might try to use it against me someday.
The End