Tabula Rasa(26)

Why would a man need to be that paranoid if he wasn’t doing something wrong or dangerous? But then, I don’t think I’d ever believed Shannon was a nice guy with a normal job. He was dangerous like a wild animal was dangerous. Whatever it was that had come along and civilized humanity so we could function properly in groups, had bypassed him. He was his own law.

One evening at dinner, Shannon dropped an orange manila envelope on the table in front of me.

“What’s this?”

“It’s you.”

I stared at it. “What do you mean?” But I knew what he meant. I was just stalling.

“Open it.” He slid a silver letter opener across the table.

I stopped it with the edge of my hand and slit the envelope open. Inside was a dossier. On me. There was also a DVD. A shiver traveled down my spine. He’d been out there stalking my information. I wasn’t sure if this felt like a kindness or a threat. I couldn’t bring myself to read the details just yet.

“Where did you get all this? H-how did you get all this? How do I know this is the truth? You could be lying like Trevor.”

Shannon shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him one way or the other what I believed. “I could be. It’s up to you whether you want to believe what’s in there. But it’s a narrative that doesn’t include the end of the world. Do what you want with it. I need to make some calls.”

He got up and put his plate and glass in the sink and ran some water over them. Then he went to his office down the hall and closed the door.

I put the papers back inside the envelope without reading them and took them upstairs to my room. I slid the envelope under my mattress. I wasn’t ready for more stories about me. Even though I had a strong feeling these were the stories that were true. Now that I held it in my hands I was afraid to know that truth.

What kind of a misfit hermit had I been if no one had called the hospital or police to claim me? Maybe I was afraid to see a bunch of wasted time staring back at me—no accomplishments to speak of. Nothing the world cared about. As long as I didn’t know, I could pretend I’d had a meaningful impact, even though I knew that couldn’t be true. If it were true, someone would have called. Someone besides Trevor would have missed me.

When I went back downstairs, the office door was still shut. I eased up to the door and pressed my ear against it. I could hear Shannon on the phone. Just barely. He didn’t have a land line, just what he called a burner. It was a simple black pre-paid cell phone. He routinely disposed of them and bought new ones.

“I told you I’ve been busy... I got a new pet. I needed to get her housebroken and acclimated... of course another cat... you know I can’t have a dog with my travel schedule...” Why did I think I was the cat in this scenario? Shannon could be lying about how long he’d had the white cat, but she was far too territorial to be new. “... No, the money’s not the problem. It’s our agreed rate. You said it wasn’t dire, so I took you at your word. But I’m ready now. It’ll be done within the week. Be out of town next Thursday with people who can account for your whereabouts.”

When the call ended, I practically flew to the living room couch, and sat there trying to look like I hadn’t just heard what I was nearly a hundred percent certain was a discussion about killing someone.

Shannon came out and looked at me for a long moment. Then his gaze shifted to the dining room table. “Elodie?”

“S-sorry.” I got up and quickly took my plate and glass to the sink and put it in the warm water. I don’t know why I got so freaked out whenever that tone came to his voice. Actually, I did know why. It’s just that he’d never done anything personally to me to illicit this fear.

Shannon was so fastidious. I was sure he would just snap if something was left sitting out... if a towel was left crumpled on the counter... if a box of crackers fell over on its side. It wasn’t like he’d ever harmed me for leaving anything out. He’d never hit me or yelled at me or smashed or thrown things. It was just... this disappointed tone like you get with a kid who eats an unauthorized cookie before dinner. I hated doing something wrong in his house—especially given how much he provided for me without asking for anything in return. I felt like my behavior had to be... perfect—to somehow compensate for what an inconvenience I must be.

I also felt like I had to somehow make him trust me so I could be a free range human again. I liked the comfort of his home, but it felt like a clock was running. At some point, he’d get bored with the novelty of another person taking up space like the white cat. He had to believe I could be trusted or... I didn’t want to think about the or right now.

“I’m tired,” he said. “I’m going up to bed. I’m having a party tomorrow night, and I’ll need you to stay in your room until it’s over.”

“O-okay.” The next day was Sunday. Was he killing someone tomorrow? Or was he really having a party? Aside from his supposed urban exploring friends, Shannon didn’t strike me as a super social guy. What kind of a party could he be having?

“Shannon?”

He stopped at the bottom of the staircase. “Yeah?”

I was afraid I might make him mad, but I pressed on with my question anyway. “We disguised my appearance. The media has forgotten about me. Why can’t I go to the party?”

He offered me a kind smile, which I swear he must have stood in front of the mirror for hours practicing because it didn’t look right on his face. “It’s not your kind of party. Trust me. I’ll take you out next weekend if you want. I’m sorry I haven’t been a better host. Oh, and I’ve got to be out of town a few days next week. Business.”