Wednesday, November 20, 2019

After hanging up the phone with Harry, Nataley's hands were shaking. Cold swept through her, and she needed to move. Going outside for a run in the increasing dark was out of the question. On a 'normal' night, she might have taken Chuck outside for a jog, but tonight she was afraid to even allow the cavachon a bathroom break.

She paced the room for a while, debating whether to put on a workout video when Prince Charles planted his bottom at the door, whining for a moment and then looking at her. Shit. Nataley bit at her thumbnail. The dog was going to have to go out. After all, he wasn't toilet trained. For the first time ever, she wished she were a cat person. They used a litter box and could stay inside.

What could she use as a weapon? Was there something she could carry with her? A knife? With her luck, she would trip and either stab herself or Chuck. A baseball bat! Didn't Noah have one? Quickly, she rushed to his room, searching his toy box first, finally finding it in the back of his closet under a pile of clothes.

She thrust her cell phone in the pocket of a hoodie she grabbed without thought before realizing halfway to the door that it belonged to Harry and still smelled like him. Fuck. Wanting to rip it from her body, she paused and decided it could wait when Chuck began pacing in front of the door, clearly needing to get outside sooner rather than later. Connecting his lead, she worried that the killer would try to hurt the cavachon. Shaking her head at the words in her brain, she rephrased. Whoever left the message on the door or whoever sent the threats wasn't a killer. Yet. After all, as long as Nataley was alive, the person hadn't succeeded.

What a stupid argument she was having in her head!

With a deep breath to fortify herself, she flung open the door, carrying the leash in one hand and the bat in the other, her grip on both tightening as she stepped into the darkness lit only by a single bulb overhead. Tomorrow she would add bright motion-sensing lights outside -- something that lit up with any movement. And maybe she would get an alarm for the house. It would probably be expensive, but the peace of mind was essential. Her stomach roiled, and her eyes swept every nook and cranny of the space near the door. There was an old abandoned flower pot from when she had attempted to raise plants, and she eyed the terra cotta warily. As if an actual fully sized human could hide behind that! Quickly, she moved it aside and found the key she had placed there ages ago for her mom. Best not to leave it in such an unsafe place.

Briefly she worried that the stalker had found the key, made a copy, and returned the original under the pot. Should she change the locks?

Seemingly aware of her fear, Chuck didn't go far from the door to conduct his business, and Nataley glanced around again before she scooped the waste into the plastic bag, hurrying them both inside where she deposited the poo in a second bag before throwing it in the trash. Normally she ditched the excrement outside, but the thought of walking to the dumpster on the other side of the parking lot made her nervous. Safely inside the condo once more, she locked the deadbolt on the door, drawing a chair to wedge under the knob.

Pacing the floor again, Nataley paused when her stomach growled. Shit. When had she last eaten food? Heading for the fridge, she drew open the door, staring at the shelves as her phone rang. Withdrawing it from the hoodie pocket, she used her thumb to slide to answer without checking to see who might be calling.

Holding the phone to her ear, she grew anxious. She hadn't paid attention to the name. What if it was the same person who threatened her? Cautiously, she bit her lip until she heard Mama Anne's voice.

"Nat? It's Anne. Are you there?"

Practically collapsing with relief as tears sprang to her eyes, Nataley breathed a little easier. "Mama Anne? Hi. Sorry. I was..." Too overwhelmed to continue, she stopped speaking, the fridge door hanging open as silent sobs overtook her, growing ever louder as she released the anguish in her mind.

"Oh, Nat. I'm so sorry," Anne whispered. "I wish I could be there. Go ahead and cry it out. I'll wait."

Collapsing onto the floor, Nataley allowed the pain to rip through her body and soul. Likely sounding like a seal pup, she gulped in air as the tears streamed down her face, and she bawled in a way she didn't recall ever crying before. At some point, the phone dropped from her hand and Chuck began licking her face. Running out of energy and moisture, her breathing slowed and settled as she came back to herself. Reaching for the phone, she sniffled, swiping at her face with her free hand.

"Shit. I'm sorry, Mama Anne. That was rude." Mortified, she waited to hear what advice this woman she so admired could have for her in this moment of agony.

"Hush, Nat. You needed the release. Rough day today, I presume?"

"I don't know how to do it, Mama Anne." Nat swiped at her eyes with the sleeve of Harry's hoodie.

The gentle voice drifting across the phone line nearly broke Nat. "How to do what?"

"Love him." New tears fell from her eyes, and Nat leveraged herself off the floor, staring once again into the mostly-empty refrigerator shelves from which the motor was frantically running as the door stood open.

"Yes. I understand. And yet we continue to love him, don't we? In spite of it all. The fans. His naïveté. We just do. He's unique and special." Anne crooned from the other end of the line, and Nataley wondered if her eyes would ever dry up. "As are you."

"Me?" Nataley blinked, withdrawing some milk from the shelf and closing the door before opening the cupboard and shifting several boxes of healthy cereal to reveal a single box of Frosted Flakes shoved to the back. Pouring a bowlful, she added milk, using her spoon to dampen the cereal before scooping a giant amount into her mouth. Without thought, she returned the milk to the fridge. Swallowing, Nat clarified, "I'm nothing special, Mama Anne. If I were..." Breaking down again, she tried to talk through her tears, her voice breaking up. "...then these threats wouldn't bother me."

"Don't be daft," Anne stated firmly. "I'd be worried you had gone off the rails if being threatened and having your life put in harm's way didn't concern you. Make you afraid. That's how normal people feel when they are terrorized. You shouldn't for a moment think you are inadequate because of how you responded to something no normal human should ever have to address in the course of her life."

"But..." Nat started before clamping her lips shut. She shouldn't, wouldn't, and couldn't throw Harry under the bus.

"But my son made you think it was perfectly absurd to be bothered?" Mama Anne asked. "He can be a bit myopic sometimes."

Nataley sniffled before taking another bite of the sweetened cereal. Sadly, her comfort food when she was stressed was sugary cereals with no nutritional value whatsoever. Maybe if she sliced a banana over it, then it would count as 'healthy'? Alas, there was no fruit anywhere to be found. She had been scheduled to go grocery shopping today. Dammit. One more failure. A horrible mama. An even worse girlfriend.

"How am I going to get the shopping done?" she asked, the words slipping out without thought.

"Nat? I suggest you do the shopping the way you've always done it." Anne's tone of voice was comforting.

A sob nearly escaped, but Nat managed to control it. "Yes, of course." She straightened her shoulders, even though she couldn't picture traveling outside of the house anytime in the near future.

"The greatest joy you can give to this person who has disrupted your peace is to change and do things differently."

"You just said...'' Confused, Nataley stopped speaking. Perhaps she had misunderstood Harry's mum?

"I'm sorry, love. It's hard to explain. You absolutely deserve to be shaken. It's normal. And this person wants you to be scared. To change your behavior and cower inside."

"To what purpose?" With more milk remaining in the bowl, and the cereal all gone, Nat tilted the box to add more Frosted Flakes, sinking them with the spoon before shoveling another mouthful between her lips.

"Simply to cause terror. My suspicion," she paused, "-- Are you sure you want to hear this?"

"Yes," Nat spoke around the mouthful. Anything that might bring her comfort. Ground her.

"Okay. I suspect that people like this who make threats are so miserable that they want others to feel the same as they do. Probably not consciously, of course. Or they've been so traumatized in their own life that they don't see how their actions make others feel. It's a win for them if they see that you're upset, so I've made a point of not publicly letting it affect me. Of course, it still impacts me in private. I've cried more than once at some thoughtless comment -- or worse, when some person stole my photos of Robin from my iCloud account. Gemma has more than once lashed out at a troll only to regret it later. Now she holds her tongue most of the time because she's found that it just makes things worse to respond."

"Does it stop them? The stalkers? The unhinged?"

A long pause followed, and Nataley decided to drink the remaining milk from the bowl rather than add more cereal. Tilting the porcelain to her mouth, she swallowed the sugary remnants. Her belly felt full, but her heart wasn't fulfilled by the conversation at all. She simply wanted Harry there to protect her and tell her everything would be okay. Or to turn back the clock to the previous day when everything was perfect.

"No." Anne's quiet response made Nataley press a hand to her stomach as the cereal roiled there. "Not usually. Sometimes they go away for a time, but they always seem to show up with a vengeance in a week or a month or a year."

Tears formed in Nat's eyes again. "You're saying if I want to be with Harry, I'm going to have to learn to put up with this level of ugliness forever?"

"Not exactly. In some ways, yes. You will. It's sadly part of the bargain of being part of his life. Harry has a few restraining orders against some young women who don't understand boundaries. It always makes him glum to file, but he's learned that treating people with kindness sometimes isn't sufficient."

"Yeah. Like his stalker from this year?"

"That was a truly unfortunate situation, but yes. Like that. My son tries to keep a positive mindset about his fans and the people he meets. He's got a pure heart -- like you, Nataley. So it is hard for him when they break his trust and take advantage of his kindness."

"It still upsets him?"

"Yes. And if I were to guess, I would say that he feels particularly helpless with this negative attention directed at you."

Her anger bubbled over, "He has one hell of a rude way of showing it then."

Anne's sigh stretched across the ocean, and Nataley felt the sound deep in her core.

"He can be the king of denial. I tried to talk to him before I called you, and he knows I'm disappointed in his response. Give him time, Nat. He'll come around. Before, he's dated other celebrities -- or sometimes women who wanted to take advantage of his popularity. You're different, Nat. And you have a son about whom I'm confident you must be terrified. Harry will come to his senses."

Nataley wrestled with what she wanted to say, finally settling on, "I hope so, Mama Anne." Rinsing her bowl in the sink, she placed it in the dishwasher. "Thank you for calling. I think the adrenaline has worn off now. I'm ready to sleep, I think."

"Of course," Anne cooed softly. "Get some rest. We'll talk again soon."

At the click of disconnection, Nataley wiped down the kitchen counters and jotted some items on her shopping list, including more sugary cereal to keep her pantry stocked. Padding to her bed, she climbed under the sheets. Tucking her feet inside, she pulled the covers over her clavicles and up to her neck, lying with her arms by her side. Staring at the ceiling, she sat up and turned out the bedside lamp, returning to her previous position. Blowing air through her lips, she tried to relax, but all she could see on the dark fan blades above her were the words 'you deserve to die'. They twirled around as the fan moved the air in the condo. Closing her eyes, she tried to block them out, only to hear the words echo in her head repeatedly, 'i hope you have nightmares'.

"Alexa, play lo-fi beats." The device began playing the calming music, but the phrases continued swirling, 'i'm dreaming of your blood' and 'the thought of blood comes in waves'. "Alexa, volume 8."

Although the sound increased, her worries didn't decrease. Quietly, she felt the tears drifting down her cheeks. Whimpering to herself, she cringed when she heard footsteps, only to be startled by Chuck jumping into the bed on Harry's side and licking her face.

"Oh, Chuck," she whispered, "Thank you for protecting me, you big waste of space. If someone broke in here, you'd probably just wag your tail and wait for treats." Regardless, the presence of the cavachon calmed her, and she wrapped her arm around his body and pulled him close as she floated into an uneasy and restless sleep, smelling Harry on the hoodie she'd never removed.

Multiple times she woke from nightmares, her body shaking, and she pulled Harry's pillow closer to her through the night until his scent wedged itself into her nostrils and tricked her brain into thinking he was actually in the same room, keeping her safe.

Only once did she wonder how he was sleeping. If he were worried about her at all. And she constantly stressed that her cousin had forgotten to send the patrols. That the person who had delivered the threats was outside her door. Or her window. She was grateful that she was fully dressed, and that the baseball bat wasn't far away. Shit. It was still in the kitchen. At nearly two o'clock in the morning, she stumbled from bed, alarming Prince Charles who sat up and barked twice. In the kitchen, she located the baseball bat and dragged it behind her to the bedroom, curling up with the weapon within reach.

She hoped not to need it.