About Hump and Gran (From The Follower)

Post 614:

The Follower: A Short Story

Part One:

            Gavin Brace stood in the front walkway, pleading and penitent. His wife looked balanced and complete, holding full suitcases in each hand. “No,” he tried, once more. “Please.”

            His slight frame wasn’t enough to block her path. A little push of the shoulder and out the door. His eyes filled with tears as she pulled out and drove away without ceremony. Across the street and two houses to the left, Gavin noticed that same face, blank and interested, like watching a fire already raging beyond control.   

            “I’m calling the police!” he yelled.

            “Rena just leave for good?” The question forced his focus right, away from the man across the street.

            “Hey, Spence.”

            “You okay, buddy? What’s with the mirror?”

            “She didn’t want to hear it.”

            Spence scratched his sunburnt bald spot and walked over to the hedge separating their front yards. Gavin felt the heat on his bare feet and squinted toward the expressionless man. He was no longer there.  

            “Look,” Spence said, posing with a hand on his belly. “Linds and I will come by in an hour. She’ll cook you up some Italian. What are you looking at over there, chief?”

            Gavin turned and walked back inside. He heard Spence inviting himself over another time before closing the door. Leaning the mirror against the entranceway wall, he walked to the big window in the front dining room, hoping to see the man through the curtains. “You’re scared, is that it? I know how to stop you. I remember the stories.”

            A few fretful moments ticked by before he grabbed up the mirror and made his way to the bedroom. The closet door was opened. He slumped to the floor when he saw how empty it was inside. For two weeks Rena watched as his reactions became and more dramatic. He couldn’t say what was really going on. That morning, the last straws. He started carrying around the heavy mirror that hung on the hallway wall, offering no explanation.

            Gavin didn’t know all the rules or how much to tell her. The last thing he wanted was to see her hurt. Though he was crying next to the closet, a part of him was glad she went away. There would be time to win her back. After. After. After.

            Another sighting. He had to mark it. He stood up and went to the kitchen, pulling a length of paper towels from the spool next to the sink. The knife was clean, still sitting in the basin from last time. He made a notch on the inside of his arm, biting his lip as the blood leaked to the paper towel. Two weeks. Twenty-three cuts. Rena hadn’t seen them until a few hours ago. They argued. She left. Another sighting. He’d get her back. After. After. After.

            It could be stopped. He finally remembered the stories.

Part Two:

            Gavin walked clumsily into his office building the next morning. He boarded the elevator holding the heavy mirror in his weary hands. They were blistered and cracking. A heavyset woman from accounting named Lita nodded and he nodded back while everyone else wondered in their own way about the man in the suit holding the large decorative piece of glass.

            Each time the ding went off and the elevator stopped on a new floor, he tensed up a little, expecting to see him. He almost wanted to. It was time to face the enemy. Time to slay the dragon.

            When he took his threadbare seat, Humphrey Simon spun around in his rolling swivel chair, like always, a little too close for good form. Humphrey worked in the cubicle opposite Gavin. The two had grown friendly over the years despite being very different calibers. Humphrey was boisterous and jowly. His bones sagged when he walked. Gavin was wanting for flesh. He had high, sharp cheekbones and walked with light springy steps. “Hey, old man,” said Humphrey, “what goes it with the mirror?”

            Gavin looked up and down their row before sitting down. “Hello, Hump.”

            “You been getting any sleep, pal?”

            “No. Rena left me yesterday, and I’m still seeing him.”

            “Whoa. Info dump. Look out for this guy.” Simon held up his arms as an awkward attempt at comedic deflection. “I hope you punched his lights out. Remember what I said. One to the nose, straight off. Then a couple kicks to the bits and that’s all she wrote. No more Mr. Whoever.”

            “He’s not coming around for Rena. This is about me. Why else would I see him here? The park? The grocery?”

            “I don’t get it,” Simon said, looking up at Gavin’s stark face. “What’s he want with you, then?”

            “He wants to torment me.”

            “Torment,” Humphrey repeated, rolling up the sleeves on his Monday dress shirt. He had bear arms, fat and completely wrapped in coarse hair. “You know me, Gav. I like to be the fun guy in the next cubicle—it’s my role—but I have to say—you’ve got me a little bit worried. The whole vibe here isn’t inspirational.”

            Gavin closed the remaining distance between their faces. “You should be worried about me. He’s a demon. Extremely dangerous.”

            “Okay…”

            “That’s what this is for,” Brace said, tapping the glass with his fingernails. “My grandmother told me the stories. I can stop it with this.”

            “Your gran told you.”

            “Yeah. I was little, but I remember.”

            “Okay…”