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1
Caiti
A squeal oflaughter drags my attention from the bright laptop screen to the little girl in the corner. She claps her hands along with the melody of her favorite television show. Noticing her audience of one, she points at the television mounted in the corner.
“We go to park today?”
The brittle smile on my face goes undetected by the almost three-year-old.
“Why don’t we go in the backyard instead?” I gesture out the patio to the quarter acre behind the house enclosed with an eight-foot privacy fence. Often on warm days such as today, I leave the sliding door open so Ophelia can run in and out, and I can supervise while doing my remote work as a data analyst. My job is to pull data from older systems and edit and format it for migration. Tedious work, but the job pays the bills and keeps me busy, and the remote option means I never have to leave my house. Something I’ve done as little as possible for a while now.
My daughter throws on a scowl made for the big screen. “We no have swings, Momma.”
Her words drive a stake in my already fragile heart. She’s been asking for swings since she started watching this preschool show three months ago. The guilt I feel at my inadequacy reaches a tipping point. I fight back the tears welling—crying doesn’t fix shit—and lift my chin.
“We’ll swing another time. Are you ready for a snack?”
I’m going to give her a food complex if I can’t find a more suitable replacement. But how can I explain to a toddler why her mother’s too afraid to leave the house when I don’t even know why I’m too afraid to leave the house? I should be stronger than letting a random man scare me into hiding.
“No!”
“No?”
“I want swings! I want park!”
“Baby girl, we can’t today. Mommy has work to do.” The lie feels like sand in my mouth. This isn’t the foundation I want to build my relationship with my daughter on. Not for the first time, I wish I had someone to help.
Oh, but I do.
There is someone who could help, except he doesn’t know his daughter exists.
“No work, Momma play!”
“Ophelia Louise.” I sigh.
An incoming text interrupts her meltdown. The unknown number clues me into the sender before I even click to open.
Unknown: Hello, beautiful. You and your daughter have a nice day today. The weather is great. I hope we can meet soon.
The innocuous-soundingmessage sends shivers straight down my spine. And not the good kind. For several months, I’ve been on the receiving end of unwanted attention. Added to the loss of my husband, raising my daughter on my own, and the unease of not knowing what this guy truly wants has raised my stress level to catastrophic limits. Each day becomes harder. The unpredictability holds me on a precipice of fear.
I screenshot and save the text to a folder with the others for evidence. The police won’t help. One officer even had the audacity to suggest I accept the strange man’s proposition for a date, and maybe he’d move on. As if I’d ever put myself in that vulnerable position.
Supposedly, his name is Trevor. He works for a client who hired my firm. I don’t know how he found my contact information, but through a series of texts, he’s detailed how he saw me through a video call and needed to get to know me, so he tracked down my information.
Blegh. Why are some men so damn creepy? This isn’t the sexy advance he believes it is.
My daughter’s wails break through the static in my ears. Her hand closes around my pant leg and tugs as tears stream down her chubby cheeks.
I never wanted this for her. Hell, at thirty-four, I never wanted this for me, either.
Hoisting her into my lap settles the strongest cries. I rock her gently and pick up my cell phone. A thought I’ve contemplated a hundred times settles back in the forefront. One glance at my precious toddler steals my choices. I have to do this for her. To keep her safe.
I press my contact button and tap on my boss’s name.
“Hello, Caiti.” His welcoming voice greets me and settles some of the rioting in my stomach.
“Jason. Hey. I just wanted to let you know I’m going to be off until Tuesday. I need to head out of town for a little while.”
“Can you bring your laptop and work while you’re away?”
“That should be fine.”
Something bangs on the other end of the line. “It’s that motherfucker again, isn’t it?” Jason is the only person, other than the police, who knows about my situation. Mainly because I don’t have any friends, and I needed to know if he’d heard of anyone asking about me. Otherwise, I would have kept it to myself.
“I just need a vacation.” I sigh. He might be my boss, but I don’t divulge anything further than necessary these days.
“Can I do anything?”
“Just pray he finds another way to entertain himself.”
