“Let me know the next time you’re going. I might need to restock again,” I shake the bag of pretzels and give her a hug as I make my way across the kitchen toward the front door.
As soon as I hear the rustle of bags and Hildy open the refrigerator, I open the front door and, in one fluid motion, sweep my fingers over the teak bowl. I hook my index finger through the bottle opener key ring and tuck it into my pocket as I pull the door shut behind me.
●●●
The key to remaining anonymous is not drawing attention to oneself. You want eyes to gloss over you, unnoticed, as you blend into the landscape—hiding in plain sight.
You’d think I have experience with breaking and entering. I don’t. I just know what security guards look for and what actually looks suspicious. I help them develop their protocols, after all. This is why I park further away from my destination and I take the path behind the apartment buildings where I can enter the stairwell from the opposite side.
I walk with a purpose, utterly oblivious to those around me, or so it would seem. I use a key to unlock the door and flip the deadbolt behind me like I belong there. On a weeknight, there’s not much activity. Everyone is occupied inside their own homes, hiding from the arctic chill outside.
Marco probably wonders what I’m doing back in his home so soon, and then immediately wonders why another bowl of cat food isn’t appearing before him. Instead, I give him a scratch under the chin and take out my phone to switch on the flashlight, swiping past the latest text from Bowen in the process.
BOWEN (5:48PM): Gonna be late…Riley’s truck is being weird…following him home
Perfect. But I don’t tell him that.
ME (5:48PM): No problem! Hope it’s nothing serious…or expensive…
BOWEN (5:49PM): I know I said I’d make dinner
ME (5:49PM): Seriously, don’t worry. I need to run out to CVS. I’m out of tampons…
BOWEN (5:50PM): I thought you didn’t start til next week
Find me another man so attentive to my menstrual cycle.
ME (5:50PM): Good thing I noticed tonight, huh?
BOWEN (5:51PM): Touche...want me to pick something up on the way home?
Just enough time for a split-second decision. Who am I? This is so unlike me.
I make my way down that dark hallway and through the open door into Hannah’s bedroom. Just like she did at my house. And, just like every hotel room I check into, I begin my search on the right side of the door. Scanning the walls, opening drawers, checking under the bed…
Hannah’s clean and organized, which makes the process much easier. Once I come to the walk-in closet, I pause and rolled my eyes. I probably should’ve started here to begin with. And I would’ve been right, because after scanning the shelves, racks, and floor with my phone’s beam of light, I spy two plastic storage totes stacked neatly in the corner beneath a row of sweaters on hangers. The top one is clear, filled with extra shoes. But the bottom one is an opaque purple tote. I pop the lid and scan the contents inside.
Sweaters. Lots of sweaters.
I gently flip up each one, working my way to the bottom, until I find what I’m looking for. Part of me doesn’t actually think I’ll find anything, so when I do, it catches me off-guard.
My grey Lake George hoodie with Navy-blue block letters is neatly folded at the very bottom of the stack of sweaters—my grey Lake George hoodie I didn’t even know was missing. Not only that, but when I lift the hoodie, my missing earrings with the gold stars in them are laying in the corner of the tote.
Not just a creep, but a thief, too.
Before I can reach for them, a pop and a creak cut through the air and immediately break my concentration. My heart almost stops and I freeze in terror.
I hear the jingle of Marco’s collar and a high-pitched croon as Hannah greets him at the door. Did Hildy say when Hannah was supposed to get home? I didn’t care enough to ask. It doesn’t matter, though, because she’s here now.
A ghostly whirlwind, I place the items back at the bottom of the tote and fit the top back on, holding the latches open with my fingertips so they closed silently.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…
Rising from my crouched position, I gently replace the clear tote on top of the purple one, keeping my eyes on the closet doorway the entire time. Creeping toward the door, I glance around. There’s nowhere to hide. I stop to listen.
Hannah moves about the living room and kitchen, turning on lights and turning on the TV. I glance down at my phone, lifting it to turn it off before sliding it back into my pocket. My eyes are trained on the bedroom wall as if in a trance, my hearing taking over as my strongest sense, amplifying every sound. I can hear her, but I have no clue where she’ll go next.
The closet isn’t safe, not when Hannah’s just returned from a trip. Fortunately, I can still hear her puttering around in the kitchen, some HGTV reality show buzzing in the background. I slowly lean out of the closet, peering around the corner. Then, something catches my eye. On the dresser, directly to the right of the closet, at eye level, is a tube of lipstick.
My tube of lipstick.
The black tube of Maple Sun with the gold band is standing on end next to two bottles of perfume, like it belonged there all along.
My eyes dart from the dresser, to the hallway, to the bed, and back to the lipstick.
Another split-second decision.
I snatch the lipstick off the dresser and lunge toward the far side of the bed, falling to my hands and knees between the bed and the wall. Collapsing to my stomach, I shimmy under the bed, taking refuge alongside a lone sock that looks as though it hasn’t been missed in months. Making myself as thin as possible, I peer beneath the bed skirt, relieved to have bought some time.
But I’m still trapped under Hannah’s bed. I can’t stay here much longer, lest I be discovered and set off a horrifying chain of events. And besides that, I have to get home. If I can’t escape for a long time, dealing with that explanation will be just as awkward.
Feeling the vibrations of Hannah’s footsteps coming down the hall, I take a breath and freeze. The shadows of her feet appear on the carpet and stop at the edge of the bed as she switches on the bedside lamp, letting the warm glow flood the room. Can she hear my heartbeat? It sounds like someone is pounding on the door. I flinch as I feel the mattress and bed frame shift above me with her body weight.
Are you kidding me?
She can’t be going to bed, at least not this minute. I wait and listen.
“Hey.”
