This Story Might Save Your Life(48)

Odd, we thought, that he happened to be in Mount Washington at the same time. Why hadn’t he introduced himself if he was our self-proclaimed biggest fan? Was he the young man who picked up my sunglasses when I dropped them outside the community center? Or the man who smiled at us near the elementary school? Perhaps he was shy. Probably he was harmless.

Only, that was just the beginning. Two days later, there was a long zoom shot of me repainting our curb number. Then one of me and Xander getting in the car. Then a flurry at the grocery on Figueroa Street. The next day, a wide-angle shot outside the nearest pharmacy.

Almost as quickly as it began, there was a photo every time I left the house.

Did I look for him? Of course. We all did. This was different from the fan engagement we were used to. His anonymity gave us the heebie-jeebies, as did the fact that I was his primary subject. Though Xander made the occasional appearance, Benny rarely did. It was, for all intents and purposes, the Joy Moore edition of “Stars—They’re Just Like Us!”

We asked around as to what could be done, and the long and short of it was: not much. We blocked him. He returned an hour later with a new but similar name. We blocked him again. Same story. You get the picture. As a result, I stopped going out casually. Xander grew more protective by the day, never leaving my side. By October, I started to feel like I was back in the terrarium, only I wasn’t pressing my hands to the glass. I wanted to be left alone. By everything and everyone.

Including Xander.

Especially Xander.





Benny Abbott


Day Three

“I told you not to come,” I say, embracing my sister the moment she’s inside.

“And I heard what you were really saying loud and clear.” Sarah kisses my wet cheek and holds me at arm’s length. “You look awful.”

“I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I can’t believe how hot LA is in October.” She sets her purse on the sofa before stripping down to a tank top. She’s gained a few pounds since I last saw her, and as I take in her beautiful full face framed by thick brown hair, all I see is my mom. I nearly cry again.

“Coffee?” I manage.

She accepts my offer and follows me into the kitchen. “Whoa,” she says when she sees the tree.

I sigh. I recognize I need to get someone out here to take care of it, but it’s so low a priority it hasn’t even made the list.

“Your Zen Den,” she says quietly.

I glance away, thinking not of the first time Joy saw it but the last. Sarah, who knows the whole story, rubs my back and says nothing more about the shed.

The coffee is strong and I don’t have creamer. Sarah waves off my apology and gets down on her knees to pet the dogs, who have barely left her side since she arrived. It’s like they know she’s a therapist and will calmly guide them through this difficult time.

When my sister last visited, I had no beds, no sofas, no dishes, and no clue how to be alone. I’d donated all my furniture when I moved into Luna’s fully furnished house, and even if I hadn’t, I would’ve given her everything. Which left me at square one. Sarah walked me through painful trips to IKEA and tedious online sprees, she filled my cart at the grocery store, and she reminded me how to keep putting one foot in front of the other. She is my rock. My only family left.

“So what are you thinking?” she asks, standing.

“Honestly?”

“As if I would accept otherwise.”

“I’m thinking that with every passing minute it’s less likely we’re going to find her. And I’ve never been more terrified in my life.”

“We’re gonna get through this.” She embraces me again, then brings me to the couch. “Fill me in. What’s new?”

We hug pillows, and I tell her about Keller’s visit, and the million-dollar transfer, and how terrible Joy’s house looked after the techs were through with it. I mention the fight between Mallory and Quinn and that no one else seems to think it’s suspicious. I tell her that Joy’s parents are stuck somewhere in the mid-Atlantic, and my corporate lawyer keeps asking how I want to handle Apex Plus, and my neighbor Ted is a colossal turd. By the time I’ve brought up the search party we’re supposed to attend in a few hours, I’m beat.

Sarah blows out a thin stream of air. “All that happened since we last spoke?”

“And one more thing.” She waits as I retrieve Joy’s computer. “I’m not sure I’m even right,” I say, opening the XYZ folder through the desktop. I explain my theory that Joy shared it as a clue, and wait for Sarah to tell me I’m stupid.

“And she copied the same folder to your cloud?”

I nod. “A few minutes before she texted.”

“Oh my god,” she breathes.

“You don’t think I’m wrong?”

“It would be too much of a coincidence, wouldn’t it?”

I’m so relieved it almost hurts. I want so much to be able to help, to have a purpose right now, I was beginning to worry I’d wildly misconstrued Joy’s intentions. “But I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

“What’s the common thread in all three episodes?”

“Apart from survival?” The fucking irony.

“‘Attic,’ ‘Dismemberments,’ ‘Appliances,’” Sarah reads, toggling through the audio files. “Not your best title work.”