Helen sipped her tea, unable to hide the smile on her face. “So, you actually went on a date?”
“It was just coffee.”
“But she knocked on your door, she took you up on the offer. This is good.” She took another sip. “And yes, it was a date.”
“I don’t know about—”
“A date, and I’ll not hear you call it anything else,” she said, then chuckled. “Oh, Brian, I’m so proud of you.”
Brian blushed. “It’s nothing, really.”
“Of course it is. Tell me all about it.”
Brian recounted their date, trying to make it sound nonchalant. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat confident about how he’d gone about the whole thing. Helen was always telling him he needed to grow a pair, and now that he had, he felt good. No way was he going to let her know that all her chiding had finally rubbed off on him.
“And all of this from seeing her out and about? Wonderful, just wonderful. Tell me, when is the next date?”
“I don’t know. I kissed her and told her I’d call.”
Helen clapped her hands together. “You kissed her?”
“Not full on the mouth. Right on the corner. But it counted.”
“You must call her back. You see? She’s interested in you. This is fantastic.”
“I will call her, but not tonight.”
Helen frowned. “I would.”
“Wouldn’t I sound too eager?”
“Maybe, but then she didn’t waste any time knocking on your door, did she?”
“Well, perhaps I’ll call her and thank her for the lovely time, make small talk.”
“And find out when you can meet her again.”
The whole thing seemed somewhat silly to Brian, especially considering she was only next door. “Maybe I’ll just go on over.”
“No. Don’t do that. She told you to call, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then that’s what she wants you to do. Let her set the parameters. She wants to feel comfortable with you, so give her every reason to.”
Brian nodded.
Helen ended the call soon after. Brian wondered if he should have even told her about the date. Here he was, a grown man, telling his sister about his romantic conquests.
Telling his sister about Her.
At least he wouldn’t tell her about the man throwing stones at the window the other night or the note through the door. Last thing Helen needed was another reason to worry about him.
That note …
That man …
Were they connected somehow? And what did ‘get out’ even mean? A threat or a well-intentioned warning? Either way, Brian didn’t appreciate it. Much as he hadn’t appreciated vinyl trousers shooting him those dagger eyes. Lexie had assured Brian this was a good town, full of good people, but Brian wasn’t so sure about either.
Brian cursed the silent living room when the realisation hit—he still hadn’t picked up coffee and eggs. He’d headed all the way into town only to wind up talking to Lexie and forget about the original point of the trip. Brian knew he wasn’t exactly in his prime, but surely he shouldn’t be suffering from amnesia. He wasn’t that old. He grabbed his jacket and slipped on a pair of trainers, leaving the apartment as quickly as possible, lest he forget again.
Outside there was an orange glow to the dusking sky and the evening air smelt crisp. Brian took a deep breath, filling up his lungs, and savouring the moment. Perhaps there really was something to the whole ‘sea air is good for you’ claim. He proceeded out of the residents’ car park, turning left and down the road towards the corner shop he’d visited earlier that week. He expected he’d wind up spending more money on lower quality products, but that was the literal and metaphorical price to pay for his shitty memory.
About halfway to the shop, Brian heard fast footsteps and light panting behind him. He moved to the right side of the pavement and slowed his pace to allow whoever was in such a hurry to overtake, but when thirty seconds elapsed and no one had passed, he glanced around. There was nobody about. Just a thick stretch of road and the progressively darkening sky. He shook his head and zipped up his jacket, the temperature plummeting—a chill pinched his neck.
A bell chimed to signal Brian’s arrival as he entered the corner shop. It was cramped inside—aisles barely wide enough for a single person—and the place stank of McDonald’s, which seemed strange until Brian noticed the carton of fries and burger on the countertop. A broadsheet newspaper mostly obscured the cashier’s face. Though Brian couldn’t see much, he knew the cashier was different from the first time he’d visited. For one, he could make out a charcoal black beard which he was fairly sure the young blonde woman was incapable of growing at all, let alone in around a week, and for another, the guy was at least twice the size of her and double her age. The cashier rested his legs on the countertop, heavy work boots next to the fast food.
“Evening,” Brian said, his voice an octave lower than usual, trying to sound friendly and masculine, neither of which came naturally.
The cashier, who he figured was likely the owner due to his age, didn’t even grunt. Well, whatever, Brian soon located the eggs. Some brand he’d never heard of before, housed in a blue cardboard box—a smiling anthropomorphised egg stood on the front, flexing its hulking bicep.
He held the egg carton up in the air and looked over at the shop owner. “It’s good that is—eat your eggs and you, too, will have egg-cellent physique.” The owner didn’t react. “Egg-cellent because …”
Brian moved onto the coffee, the choices of which ranged from bad to worse. Brian sure as hell wasn’t buying the freeze-dried instant crap which, personally, he thought had no business being called coffee in the first place, but the one packet of ground coffee they did have looked like a Starbucks rip-off and he figured it would play havoc with his stomach.
“You got anything single-origin or Fairtrade?” Brian called over to the owner.
This time the owner put his newspaper down and huffed out air. He ran a hand through his greased back ponytailed hair.
The two locked eyes.
“The coffee,” Brian said. “I don’t suppose you have anything that’s Fairtrade?”
“Fair fucking what?” The man sounded as friendly as he looked.
Brian lowered his head. “It’s just, it can be difficult choosing the right coffee, know what I mean?”
“No. I don’t.”
Brian picked up the Starbucks rip-off, shook it, as if in doing so he might unearth some secret.
“What you see is what you get,” the owner said.
Brian placed the eggs and coffee on the counter. He looked up at the security camera in the upper righthand corner. Fish motifs, not too dissimilar from the ones around his apartment building, were emblazoned on the camera’s exterior. The owner caught Brian looking.
“Looks familiar,” Brian said.
“So?”
Brian hadn’t expected that response. He changed tack. “On my way here, I could have sworn someone was behind me, but when I turned around there was nobody there. Weird, huh?”
The owner scanned the goods, bagged them up, and motioned to the electronic display indicating the grand total. Brian handed him a tenner and the owner returned some change. Brian wondered if the owner could be the same man who’d loitered outside Yuki’s apartment. They both had a beard and long hair, so it was possible, but he wasn’t so sure about the build. Brian looked away—he’d been staring.
The owner cleared his throat. “Yes? Can I help you with anything else?”
Brian wasn’t sure. He glanced at the security camera—the fish were freaking him out.
“Fuck me, are you really not gonna leave until I answer your stupid question?” the owner said. “All right, fine. No, it isn’t weird you heard someone behind you one minute and they weren’t there the next. There are many streets, many houses, too. Whoever you heard, they turned off, they went down some other road or whatever. Fuck me, son, are you that dense?”
Despite the owner’s tone, Brian was relieved. It made sense.
“Do me a favour, yeah?” the owner said, and Brian went to answer but the owner got there first. “Fuck off.”
As Brian left the shop, he noticed all the other cameras—each covered in fish motifs, each pointed towards him, each watching him.
Back home, Brian warmed a can of soup on the stove. He wasn’t hungry but had to eat something. He was too wound up and jittery. About Yuki, about the man in the shop, about the roaming fish eyes, about the footsteps he could have sworn he’d heard behind him. He was losing it. He’d heard the old cliché about love doing funny things to people, but he wasn’t so sure this was the kind of funny it meant. Love … holy shit, where was his head at? They’d shared coffee and a kiss on the cheek. It barely constituted a date, let alone love. Brian needed to calm down before calling Yuki later. He poured himself a large measure of whiskey and sat on the sofa, playing with his phone. Yuki’s number was in his contacts, he just needed to press ‘call’. His finger hovered over his phone whilst he considered what to say. Why did it matter? As usual, he was overthinking things. He put down the phone and walked over to the bedroom window to check her car was parked outside. For some reason, he felt like he needed her to be home to talk. If she was out, then he probably wouldn’t have her undivided attention.
Blue light flickered from beyond the curtains. Was there an ambulance at the apartment? Brian parted the curtains just enough to look outside and immediately saw the light’s source.
All the fish statues around the car park were lit—blue flames wavering in the breeze. Funny, Brian hadn’t seen any vans or workers around. Perhaps someone had done the work whilst he was in town. Regardless, it added an air of sophistication, classing up the entire complex.
Brian looked to Yuki’s parking space, saw her car and the man standing next to it, staring up at her apartment.
He backed away from the window.
It was him. The bloke from the other night. Brian was sure of it.
Crouching down, Brian peeked through the blinds again. The man wore dark clothes just as before. Standing motionless, staring straight ahead.
Who was this man?
Brian stayed low and crab-walked over to his front door, sliding the deadlock across slowly. With the door locked, he didn’t feel any more secure.
He needed to call Yuki.
He stared at his phone on the sofa.
What if the man was one of her ex-boyfriends? What if she knew he was watching her, but her plan was to ignore him until he went away? That didn’t seem likely. But it was possible. They hadn’t spoken about past relationships and it was hardly the kind of thing she’d bring up on a first date. There was so much about Her he didn’t know.
Brian clenched his fists. This man was disrupting everything. Brian stood up. Was there anything in the apartment he could use as a weapon? Not to hurt the man, just to scare him off for good. A thousand scenarios played through Brian’s mind. He risked a peek through the blinds again and found the man pacing behind Yuki’s car.
Brian kept a large chef’s knife in his cutlery drawer, but it was too obvious. He wanted to surprise the man, and that meant going outside. But not through the main entrance. He could leave through the fire exit at the back, walk around the side of the building, and approach the man that way.
He put down the chef’s knife and picked up a paring knife. Though the blade was only four inches long, it could do quite a bit of damage, just in case he needed it for self-defence.
As Brian was preparing to leave, he heard a hiss from behind. He shot round, knife ready, fearing the worst. He relaxed when he saw it was just the soup bubbling over and spilling onto the stove. He placed the pan on the kitchen countertop. No time to eat now.
Grabbing his phone from the sofa, then the keys from the counter, Brian left his apartment and headed outside.