yet again with the second telling of it. There’s only so many ways that you can keep something at arm’s length before you have to face the reality of it. Then I realized I had to backtrack and tell Brian about what had happened at the site.
Brian let go of my hand, ran his hand through his hair. The blood rushed back into my fingers.
“Okay, whatever this is, is getting way out of control,” he said. “And this was aimed directly at you. The site, now this asshole in the car. There’s no doubting that.”
I kept my mouth shut and did a fair job of not looking like I’d finally made my point.
He squeezed me in a bear hug. “You’ve done all the right things, going to the cops, keeping your head. I’m so proud of you.”
“And I was right.” Then I blurted, “It is Tony.”
Brian looked at me quizzically. “You’re right, someone is gunning for you. I hate that it’s true, but yes, that’s what seems to be happening. As for that other thing, I don’t know. Even if it isn’t Tony, we need to be careful. I’m glad you went to the cops, glad that Stannard knows now, too. I say that we keep our eyes and ears open, do a little research into the laws about stalking or harassment laws or whatever they’re called in Massachusetts. Maine, too. Start a file, keep track of all this stuff, be extra careful about the house, your office—”
“And your office,” I persisted.
“Okay, sure, whatever.” He said it so quickly, I got the impression that he was doing that male denial thing, where an unpleasant situation is dismissed out of hand.
“I’m serious, Brian.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “This is getting…closer to home. Literally and figuratively, okay? And if it’s getting closer to me, then…you need to worry, too. About you.”
I watched him frown, but held his gaze until he nodded. “Okay. I’ll do my best.” He chewed the inside of his cheek a minute. “What if you take a leave of absence from school, this semester?”
“Brian! I can’t do that! It’s too late…it’s too much.” Talk about going from one extreme to another.
“Okay, okay, maybe that was a little much. What if…I work at home? And you work at home?”
“I can hardly teach classes from home,” I said, frowning. “And you’ve got a project deadline coming up, you know that. It’s all you can do to keep off a death-march schedule as it is.”
“I just hate the idea of someone knowing your schedule. I mean, it’s on the department website and everything, right? I could drive you to work.”
“Brian, you can’t drive me to work—it’s exactly the opposite direction of where you need to be going. And like I said, our schedules won’t allow it.”
“Hey, I’m on your side, remember? I’m trying to make sure you’re, uh, we’re both safe.”
“Yeah, but you can’t do that by locking me in the house. And I’m not going to let anyone curtail my life like that. I just can’t. Plus, I don’t want to be a sitting duck, which I will be if I confine myself to the house.”
Brian was annoyed, I could tell, but he didn’t make any other outrageous suggestions. I was glad, because not only did I not like the idea of being kept under lock and key, I hated the idea that I was responsible for making him uneasy. I also hated the notion that he might be in danger. His earlier denial of the situation was almost preferable to this new attitude, however.
“Okay,” he said finally. “But we’re both going to be extra cautious, right? There’s a weirdo out there.”
“You got it.” I could live with that: I hugged him then, a long time, grateful that I no longer felt so alone in this. Unanchored, it was all too easy to imagine that I might be making things up, seeing connections where there were none, but neither one of us could doubt it now. A gap between us had been bridged or the existing bridge made stronger, but it was terrible to think that I had to convince him of his own danger.
When I let Brian go, there was a thoughtful look on his face. I kissed him again, and went up to my office.
The next day, I got home late from errands, checked my email, and began putting together a batch of chili. I’m not a great cook, but I can do it when absolutely