Page 13 of Kept
“Uh, most people call me Josie.”
“I’m not most people.” He smirks and nods to Margarita, who just raises one eyebrow and shakes her head as he turns and leaves.
“Now you’ve gone and done it,” she snorts, turning back to the lunch prep.
“What?”
“Your big moo-cow eyes have drawn him in. He won’t leave you alone now.”
“I think I might be a bit old for his tastes,” I sneer, “if your intelligence is correct.”
“My intelligence is undoubtedly correct,” she laughs, “I’m not a brain surgeon for nothing.”
We both giggle and, forgetting the history teacher, get busy with lunch.
When we get home, close to dusk, there is a letter waiting.
My heart is in my mouth as I stand in front of the mailbox and turn the envelope over and over in my hands.
“Jesus. Do you want me to do it?”
“No, I’m going to do it.”
“It’s like a band-aid, just rip it open and get the pain over and done with.”
“Fuck, Margarita,” I snap, “why do you have to assume I didn’t get an interview? Just for once can’t you imagine that I might actually get one?”
She looks bashful and gives me a conciliatory hug.
“Sorry, Chiquita, I just, yeah, no, you are right. Take your time; I’ll bet you have an interview this time.”
“I’m about to kick her, hard, for her obviously condescending attempt to mollify me, when Mrs Swinstone from the apartment across the hall calls out.
“Yoo-hoo. Yoo-hoo, girls.”
“Hi, Mrs Swinstone,” we say in unison.
She walks into the hall, leaving the tip of her walking stick in the doorway so her door won’t shut behind her, and casts her eyes around the entry hall.
“Did you see him?” she whispers in a hushed, conspiratorial tone.
“Who?”
“The lurker.”
“What lurker?” Margarita laughs.
“The one I told the police about,” the old woman frowns, “lurking across the street, staring into our windows, lurking in the back alley...”
“Mrs Swinstone, I haven’t seen anyone, I’m sorry,” I say quietly, “but if you are worried any time, you know you can call us and we will drop by.”
“Told that nice young officer,” she nods, “he says he will call in again this afternoon. Lovely looking boy, so fine in his uniform.”
Margarita and I laugh.
“Mrs Swinstone,” I use a mock scolding tone, “now you are not imagining a lurker just to get another visit from Officer Reynolds, are you?”
“You remember his name?” Margarita snorts.
