skin on my hands is splotched an ugly white and red, but I have erased the stain on Iris’s life that had been put there because of me.
I make my way inside. It’s time to attend to the real business of the morning. “I want to see the video, please.”
Iris’s lips tighten, but I can tell she’s been expecting this request. “I told you everything that was in it. You can’t see anything more.”
“I know. But I have to see it anyway.” My voice stays quiet and calm, not giving her any reason to deny me. “Is it here, or did the police take it?”
“It’s still here.” She sighs. “The police just copied it onto a flash drive.”
Soon enough, I’m sitting in the back room, fast-forwarding through grainy black-and-white footage to get to 1:46 a.m. And then there it is: a figure walking past the entrance. All you can really see is the hoodie, with the hood up covering everything, and what looks like jeans or sneakers. For all my squinting into the screen, it’s hard to make out much else. The figure looks kind of slim and tall, but with the weird camera angle, looking downwards at them, it’s hard to tell with any certainty. So that’s just great. I’ve narrowed down my list of suspects to everyone in the world with two arms and two legs. Good thing it was my sister who went into the police force and not me.
The figure has the can of paint already out, held by the handle. It’s heavy, obviously. A big 20-liter one—but I knew that even without seeing the video, courtesy of having to bust my ass cleaning it all up.
Our friendly neighborhood vandal does a pretty good job of splashing the paint onto the window. Maybe this isn’t their first rodeo. Then it goes up to the front door and tries to kick it in twice. No luck there. One hand disappears inside the big jacket, as if reaching for something, but then the head jerks hard left, as if the figure heard something. And then it’s gone, picking up the empty paint can and slipping away into the night.
Iris told me I wouldn’t be able to see anything more, and she was right. I rewind the tape and slo-mo through the moment where the figure hears the sound, and the hoodie twists as the head turns. I try and convince myself there’s something visible there, perhaps a flash of chin or nose. But it’s really just a couple of pale pixels in a sea of fuzzy gray.
But that doesn’t stop me watching and rewatching the figure. Rewind. Play. Slo-mo.
My heart thumps in my chest as I stare into the footage. Maybe the figure is unrecognizable. But that doesn’t seem to matter. Because for the first time I am actually seeing them, the person who’s out to ruin me. It’s not just some crazy paranoia or a figment of my imagination. I feel sure of it. It’s a real human being out to get me and I’m watching them right now. A crazy cocktail of fear and anger swirls in my stomach.
Rewind. Play. Slo-mo.
* * *
“She’s still here? What not a surprise.” Tessa is sitting on the front steps to Ed’s condo when we return that evening. Her boyfriend, Nevin, is rubbing her shoulders. The boy needs to work harder, however, because she still looks stressed as fuck. If she isn’t, I sure as hell am.
“Clem,” says Shannon, the receptionist from the parlor, leaning on the stair rail beside them. “Hey.”
“Hi.” I raise a hand in greeting.
“You’re early,” says Ed, calm as can be. Obviously he was expecting them and didn’t warn me. I try to keep a blank face. Try.
“Damn.” Nevin laughs. “She’s just as happy to see us as we are to see her. This was a great idea, Ed. Seriously, man, good work.”
“It’s pizza night. This is what we always do.” Ed frowns ever so slightly. “Clem, it’s not a problem they’re here, is it?”
“No. Absolutely not. All good.”
Tessa laughs. “Oh, your fake smile is awful. You might want to work on that.”
“It is fine. I just wasn’t expecting . . .” The words trail off and I shut my mouth. Mostly, I feel tired.
“Tessa, give her a break,” says Ed. “She’s had a shit day, okay?”
Immediately, Tessa groans. “All right, all right. I heard about the paint thing at your work. Did you get it cleaned up okay?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “Thanks.”
Ed frowns. “Leif should be