AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“May I?” I ask, reaching for her phone, which she easily gives after unlocking it for me. I scroll through the list of apps. There isn’t anything obvious, like Life360, though I come across the Find My app, which is standard on certain phones. It’s a catchall location sharing app, where you can find a missing phone or iPad just as easily as people.
I search under People.
It says, so completely unambiguously that I feel my heart start to race as a chill runs down my spine: Declan can see your location.
I quickly toggle off the option to share her location. And then, by instinct, I spin around, looking back over a shoulder, overwhelmed by the sudden feeling of being watched. I wonder if Declan can see us now, if he knows where she is, if he followed her here. The street behind me is full. It’s dark out and the people move in all directions; I can’t take them all in. The line waiting to get into the comedy club has started to move too, drifting forward. There are cars and buses driving past and people standing and walking on both sides of the city street. And then there are bars and restaurants with windows, some as large as garage doors that lift when the weather is warm, so massive a person could be sitting anywhere inside the restaurant and be able to see somewhat out.
Declan could just as easily be inside one of the restaurants as in a bus driving by. I turn back to look at Nat, trying to put my thoughts into words that won’t scare her. “What is it?” she asks, her face practically white, her eyes reading my own face. “What’s wrong?”
“You’ve been sharing your location with him this whole time. He’s known all along where you are. I turned it off,” I say, returning the phone, “but he knew exactly where you were the other night. It wasn’t a coincidence that he found you. Maybe you should go to the police, Nat, and file a restraining order.”
“What good would that do? A piece of paper won’t stop him.”
She’s not wrong. Still, I say, “I just think it’s good they know what you’re up against.”
“Someone will serve that to him. He’ll know what I’ve done, that I reported him. It will only make him mad, Meghan. It will only make things worse.”
I nod, too afraid to force the issue in case she’s right. I don’t want to be the reason something terrible happens to her.
“I should go. My friend will be wondering where I am if I’m not home soon.”
“Okay,” I say, offering to walk or ride with her, but she says she’s okay, that she’ll go it alone. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
I’m full of misgivings, fear. “I don’t feel comfortable with that. Please,” I beg, “let me walk you home.”
“No. I’m fine. I can do this,” she says, and reluctantly I say okay because Declan has taken so much and I don’t want to take her autonomy too.
I watch her hail a cab. I wait for it to arrive and then I stand on the curb just behind her, watching her get in. She pulls the door closed and waves at me through the window, her face hard to see through the glass. She breaks her gaze, saying something to the driver. Before the cab pulls away, I rap on the window to get her attention. “Send me a message when you get to your friend’s house, okay? So I know you made it there.” She nods.
As the cab takes off down the street, I watch its taillights for a long time until I can’t tell which lights belong to it anymore.
I don’t think about my own safety.
I take for granted that she is the one in danger and that I am safe.
I decide to forgo a cab and walk back to the apartment. The night is crisp but the cold air feels good on my face, as does the movement, because I’m anxious, and the idea of going back to an empty apartment, where I’ll do nothing but sit and worry about Nat, isn’t appealing.
I walk along Broadway almost the entire way. The city is loud and busy tonight. Even the weather can’t keep people inside. I’m grateful when Dakin Street comes and I can slip away from the hustle and bustle of Broadway for something quieter, though it’s also then that the fear sets in, that ever-present knowledge that there are murderers out here and that there is a man somewhere on these very streets assaulting women. I reach in my bag for my keys, grateful to feel the weight of them in my hand. The apartment door key, in particular, is honed and though it’s not like I could kill someone with it, the pointed end would do damage. I single that one out, holding it in a hammer grip as I walk under leafless trees, past two and three flats and dark cars parked along the street. I pay attention to my surroundings, though the darkness muddies my vision. It’s hard to see, but my hearing, on the other hand, is more tuned in. At first there is practically nothing, just the usual city noise: the sound of sirens in the distance like a woman’s piercing cry, the rasp of a car door opening and closing.
It’s windy tonight. On the sidewalk beside me, trees sway, their naked limbs like hands. The wind itself makes noise, hissing as it whips around the edges of the buildings.
As I near the abandoned buildings on the street, I hear something in the distance, something different than I’m used to, something haunting and keening like an elegy. The sound is so inappreciable at first that I don’t know if it’s there or if it’s not. If I’m only imagining it.
I hold my breath. I listen closer and in time the sound becomes more distinct.
Somewhere behind me, someone is whistling.
I whip around. On the horizon is the contour of a man, I think, from the shape and size of him and because women don’t whistle when they walk alone at night. We do everything we can to be inconspicuous.
My breath catches. I turn back around, looking straight ahead at my apartment building in the distance. Over time, the sound edges closer. The whistle disappears and is replaced by silence at first, and then the distinct sound of footsteps, jogging as if to catch up, kicking up loose gravel that sails in my direction.
My throat tightens. I readjust my grip on the key.
I can tell from the heaviness of his steps, from the way they advance on me, cutting the distance faster than my own legs can go, that I was right. It is a man. A woman would know better than to follow another woman this closely at night.
My legs move more quickly now. My breath changes too, becoming shallow.
