Tag, You're It

Since leaving Dr. Benden’s office I’d been followed. The tail wasn’t that hard to spot. A woman, wearing a bright red dress with a matching scarf tied around her long blond ponytail, wearing bright red heels, pushing a baby carriage. Not a stroller, but an actual baby carriage, bright red leather, sparkling white-sidewall tires with polished chrome wheels and handle. The hood was up, and a brightly colored quilt was draped over it to shade the baby within. Surely, they wouldn’t bring a baby along while they followed me everywhere, I went. I stifled the urge to go take a peek at the little one. Would she run if I did? Maybe I should just go over and tap her on the shoulder and say, “Tag, you’re it.” No, probably not a great idea. I didn’t want them to know I knew I was being followed. 

I often wondered what they thought I was doing. Where did they think I was going, that they had to follow me everywhere? I’m not an interesting guy. I worked in sales, selling paper goods to businesses. Typing paper, copy paper, receipt books, blank, pre-printed checks, business cards, that kind of stuff. There wasn’t a more boring job. Most of my time was spent on the phone, making appointments, taking orders, checking on deliveries. The only times I travel for my job was to take meetings with various business to give it the personal touch, shake a few hands, take a purchasing agent to lunch, smooze with the boss. But mostly I am just a guy, in a suit, going back and forth to work. My life is so boring and yet, someone put out the order to tail me, to watch my every move. 

I watched the gal tailing me as I strolled along, stopping to adjust the carriage blanket if I paused to look in a shop window, waving to someone across the street if I stopped to tie my shoe. I soon tired of the cat-and-mouse game and hopped a cross-town bus going back the way I’d just come and watched the gal turn a corner as I rode past her, as if she was always going that way and not following me at all. Right, sure. She didn’t fool me. 

When I told Dr. Benden people are following me everywhere I go he said it was in my mind and if I took my medication that would all stop. He was convinced it was all hallucinations and he was trying to convince me of that too. I knew he was wrong but since I had to keep seeing him weekly for six months, court ordered, I knew enough to play along. Maybe I’d take his pills or maybe I wouldn’t, and I’d just tell him I was. If they were going to make it so I didn’t notice my tails I wasn’t sure if I wanted to take them. My head started aching just thinking about it, feeling tight like it was going to explode so I decided to think about it later, at home, with a drink in my hand.  

But that second tail of the day, he wasn’t too hard to pick out of a crowd. That was one thing about these tails, they weren’t very good at fading into the background. This kid was about 20 or so, wearing a red baseball jacket over a white tee shirt and jeans with brand new white Nikes on his feet and a snappy red baseball cap on his head. He wore the cap back a bit so I could see his blond curly hair poking out from under his cap. He didn’t even look at me as he got on the bus and sat up near the front, riding the edge of his seat, as if he might get off at the next stop. It was like a giant, city sized game of tag. 

Sure enough, three stops farther along he got off and another tail picked me up, this one a short, black woman, in her 30’s along with a kid, a little boy, of about 7 years old. What was with these people bringing kids along on this kind of a job? The kid had a red back pack on, and he was carrying a bright red fire truck. He gripped it tightly and occasionally he would make truck noises and pretend to drive the truck along the back of the seat in front of him. His ‘mother’ if she was his mother, was busy reading a book that she had taken out of her large red leather purse. For a change, she wasn’t wearing a red dress, it was a deep blue, but she wore a red belt and red heels. Who did they think they were fooling? 

I tapped the kids’ shoulder and under my breath I whispered, “Tag, you’re it buddy.” as I got off the bus at the next stop and the gal with her kid stayed on the bus like nothing had happened. Before anyone else could pick me up, I hailed a cab and gave him my home address. It was a short ride and it wasn’t until I got out and was paying him that I noticed he was wearing a red western shirt, with a bolo tie. I gave him a tip anyway and he thanked me and gave me a wink, like we had a secret and I guess we did. “Have a good day pardner.” He said before driving off. 

Finally, safe at home in my apartment I closed and locked the front door, went around to check that the windows were all locked up tight and pull the blind. After that I made myself a double whiskey over ice and sat down to watch tv. I knew I had some thinking to do but it could wait until the tightness in my head eased up a bit. The whiskey would do that for me, ease the tension headache I always seemed to have these days.  

I had to decide if I should take the pills and see what happened to the watchers or just flush them and pretend to Dr. Benden that I was being a good patient and go along. Later, I’d decide later. After all I didn’t have to go back to see him until next Friday. Thank god it was only once a week. I’d taken some time off from work after my troubles, a leave of absence, they called it. So, I didn’t have to leave the house until next Friday if I didn’t want to. 

I watched some movie, more noise than entertainment but somewhere along the way I fell asleep. I awoke with a start, spilling the water left by the melting ice cubes onto my lap. What woke me? I listened but I couldn’t hear anything unusual. Old man Waterman’s dog was barking, as usual and someone honked their horn along the street, a woman laughed, and someone slammed a window shut. Normal city noises but was there something else? Someone trying to get in the fire escape window or at the door? I had to go around the apartment again and check everything. I was still locked up tighter than a drum. Good so far.  

I turned out all the lights and pulled the drape enough to see out into the street. Just as I thought, there was a watcher, keeping an eye on my place. In fact, there were two of them. A pair of kids, sitting on their bikes, under the streetlight, laughing and talking. But I wasn’t fooled. I could see the red of their bikes and I knew they were watching me. 

I decided that I’d had enough playing games, for the day. I opened my window and hollered down to the watching boys. “Hey, go on home, I’m in for the night. Tell your boss, not to waste his time and money. Go on.”  

“Shove it mister. We can stay out here if we want to.”  

“Yeah, buzz off, buddy. We ain’t bothering you. Go have another drink, you drunk.”  

The two kids yelled back up at me, but they went ahead and left, like I told them to do. Something about them bothered me. They looked right to be watchers, followers. But what? What did that one say? Something about me having a drink? Oh my god, how did they know I’d had a drink? Was someone able to see into my apartment? Was my place bugged? How could anyone have gotten in? I kept the place locked up when I was gone, no one else had a key, except the super. Could he have come in while I was gone to work and planted something? A camera or a microphone? I had to find out. I began a methodical search pattern.

After a night of searching I still hadn’t found anything I hadn’t brought in myself. To make sure I took all the pictures off the wall and boxed them up. I did the same with all the lamps but the one by my bedside. That one I took apart and checked every piece before putting it back together. I turned the tv to the wall and unplugged the radio and boxed it up too. All the boxes went into the extra bedroom. Along with Eleanor’s things. Boxed up, nice and neat, taped closed with labels on the outside, marking what was in each box. Nice and neat. Plastic bags, duct tape, labels covered in packing tape so I could read them easily. Everything in its’ place. 

It was late by the time I’d finished packing everything up that might have a bug in it. Or early, depending on how you look at it. Anyway, I went to bed. Somehow, I fell asleep easily and woke up in the late afternoon, about  4 o’clock. Showered, shaved and starving I went out for an early dinner. There was a good Italian place down the block where Eleanor and I used to go all the time.  

Pauly, the owner greeted me and set me up in my usual spot. Right away I could see the newest tail, a couple at a table across the room. A big bouquet of deep red roses sat at their table and the woman was wearing a maroon cocktail dress. Her jewelry sparkled in the candlelight as she smiled and laughed and gestured as did her bright red claws, uh, fingernails. They never looked my way, that’s how I knew they were my followers for the night. And they were the best ones so far. 

I knew, right then, I couldn’t take those damned pills from Dr. Benden. I didn’t want the followers to be able to sneak up on me and if they worked like he said, I’d stop noticing them as they followed me, watched my every move. No, I’d flush the damned things first thing when I got back home after dinner.  

The waiter brought my salad along with a basket of French bread with butter and garlic. I drank my wine, ate my bread rolls and my salad, all the while watching the couple who were watching me, although I couldn’t catch them even looking at me once. They must have been the best operatives the boss had. How did they know to be in the restaurant before I got here? Were there others in other restaurants along the street? Or in the stores in case I came in for groceries? How big was this operation and why? Why did someone want to know where I went and what I did? Was it the police? Did they suspect me? A rival paper company? Someone I’d injured?  

I finished my salad and the waiter brought the spaghetti and meat balls. I began to eat and that’s when I noticed. The table cloths! Red and white checks. How could I have been so blind? I looked around, as casually as I could. All the tables had the same red and white tablecloths. Vases of red roses. Red candles in red glass holders. The waiters wore red ties. This was a hot bed of followers, watchers. I held myself in check. I couldn’t take a chance on doing anything to bring down suspicion on me, so they would know I had guessed they were part of it. I finished my meal, paid my bill and left my usual generous tip. I’d never go back there again. 

As I made my way back home, I thought about what was happening to me. When had I first noticed the watchers? It had to be about the same time Eleanor went away. Yes, the day after she left. Someone was following me from the very first day. Did she hire them? Was she the one I thought of as ‘the boss’? Oh my god, that was the answer. She’d been so mad when she left, yelling and throwing things. Mad, my god, yes, she was furious. I still don’t know what set her off. But after a while she was quiet again. When I woke up in the morning, I was alone. Eleanor was gone as were most of her belonging, clothing, jewelry, makeup.  

The following weeks were a blur. Somewhere during that time, I got into some trouble, a fight, I think. Anyway, I ended up in court and I guess I made a scene in the court room so the judged ordered me to get some anger management therapy. So, I started seeing Dr. Benden. All the while I was seeing the followers, the watchers. Dr. Benden thought it was imaginary, something about how boring my life was and worse since Eleanor left me. But I could see the people, I could see them, all following me. Why didn’t he believe me when I could see real people, following me? 

Sunday morning, I went out for my usual, the Sunday paper and bagels, from the deli down the block. Kids were running everywhere, a bunch of them, screaming and hollering, laughing and chasing each other. This was the first morning in a long time where the world felt normal to me. Maybe things were looking up. Maybe Dr. Benden was right and it would just take some time before I was all right. Eleanor leaving me was like the light had went out of my life.  

I greeted Vinnie, the deli guy ordered extra bagels and cream cheese for my breakfast. I almost didn’t notice Vinnie’s red shirt under his brilliant white apron. I could feel the tightness returning to my head, the ache starting.  

I went outside, falling over a kid who was running after his friends. He laughed as I fell and reached out a hand touching me. Then he ran off laughing. The darkness closed in as I heard the words the little boy in the bright red shirt said. “Tag, mister, you’re it.”