My heart sank when I read what it said. One side proclaimed that the flowers were from Nate.
On the reverse of one of the pieces, printed in pencil, were the words “Remember what I said. This is a warning!”
There was no signature, but I knew who had hacked the flowers to bits. When had he done it? Was he watching me?
I managed to open my door with difficulty. My hands were shaking so badly that the key slipped and scratched the keyhole a few times before I managed to finally insert it. I had been half afraid of finding my house ransacked.
Everything was in its place, which gave me little comfort. I just could not fathom what had suddenly come over my oldest friend. I cleaned the mess outside my door, hoping that no one had noticed it yet. I felt like crying as I swept the torn fragments into the dustpan and dumped them into the trash. My heart was breaking for the poor flowers. It was breaking a little for me, too, but mostly for the flowers.
I felt tired and overwhelmed though I was thankful that I was no longer bursting into tears every few minutes like some teenage girl. A strong cup of tea would help, I decided.
When I went to make myself some tea, I saw that I had put the pieces of the torn card on the kitchen table instead of throwing them away. About to throw them away, I noticed something else penciled in.
Below Nate’s name on the original message was a line: “See you at six tonight.”
Nate had finally made up his mind to ask me out, it seemed.
If Jim was spying on me, he would know when Nate came to visit me. What would he do to the man whose flowers he had destroyed so ruthlessly? No! I could not allow Jim to hurt Nate. I had to warn Nate not to come. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. I ran to open the door, a glimpse at the clock telling me that I was too late to warn Nate. It was five past six.
Nate stood outside, looking somber. He opened his mouth to say something but apparently forgot what when he saw the expression on my face. I grabbed his sleeve and pulled him inside, quickly shutting the door behind him. I hoped to God that Jim hadn’t been keeping an eye on my apartment, hadn’t seen Nate arriving.
“Are you all right? You look terrible!” Nate said, sounding really worried.
“I’m fine,” I lied. “You have to go now. Please.”
“It’s all right,’ Nate said, pulling me into a comforting embrace. “I’m not afraid of Jim. I’ll protect you.”
“Wh … what?” I asked.
“He’s threatened you too, hasn’t he? That’s why you are terrified. He threatened me too. But I’m not afraid of him. That’s why I sent you flowers. To show him that I didn’t care what he thought. Didn’t you get them?” Nate asked, looking around and failing to spot them.
I was feeling weak again. Only, this time, it was not born of fear. The warmth and comfort of Nate’s embrace made me want to forget the rest of the world, forget Jim and his threats. I did not want to pull away. I wanted to snuggle in his arms for the rest of my life. My face still buried in his wide chest, I told Nate what had happened to the flowers. I could feel his shoulders and arms go rigid with tension. Sighing, I pulled away.
“We need to take Jim’s threats seriously,” I said to Nate. “I don’t know what’s come over him, but I do know that he is not one to bluster. It’s like he’s not even the same guy anymore. It’s just so impossible, so melodramatic like a movie!”
“Regardless, I am inclined to agree with you that we should not take him lightly. Let’s go to the cops and tell them.”
“No!” I protested.
I could not go to the cops. What would I say? I had no proof. It would be my word against Jim’s. The card had no signature, and it had been printed. There was no way to convince the cops that Jim was a credible threat. No, we’d have to deal with him ourselves.
This post is a part of Blogchatter Half Marathon 2.0
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