Letters to Self: In Case of Emergency

September 7th, 2003

           Loraine is watching me. Those strong icy eyes are burning a hole right into my skull. She thinks those bookshelves can disguise her nature. She’s using the monotonous tapping of the keyboard at the library check-out desk to lower my guard down just enough to rip me apart. She was clutching a copy of Single White Female in her right hand this morning. She couldn’t hide that from me. The gears were ticking in her head and, even now, it’s giving me an earache.

          My husband thinks I’m being ridiculous. That I should focus on our son instead of some petty ‘fantasy’, but he doesn't know. He doesn’t truly know her; he doesn't understand her like I do. There’s a monster lurking behind that delicately powdered face. Those precious red lips are waiting to devour me. Ruin me, just like she did her husband... my brother.

 Poor man, I’m sure George will never leave that hospital bed. But no one can say I didn't warn him. I still remember the night we talked. That was right before his wedding when he still had hair. I remember exactly what happened when we talked over dinner. It stings still. I warned him, she was a viper and he, out of anyone. should have seen it. He rolled his eyes and called me petulant. That even when we were kids, I never approved of who he liked. He had the nerve to bring up Eliza. Someone who I was right about in the end, but he refused to acknowledge it. I am always right, and Lorraine knows it too and she hates that I do. Now she parades his wedding ring around her neck like a prize, like a taxidermy deer head above the hearth. It makes my blood boil that he didn’t listen. Those perfectly observant eyes should have seen it coming and now she’s waiting for the right time to strike. Right when my guard’s down. Joke’s on her. I sleep in the basement now. No windows, with one door to lock. It’s perfect. She’ll never get me. Robert’s worried I’ve lost my mind but I can assure him that I’m perfectly sane. I decided against electrifying the fence. That would be overkill.

For now, at least, I’m safe. I’ll just start changing my routine like going to the coffee shop before going to work. That way Robert can stop pestering me about my behavior and life can go back to normal.

Maybe tonight I’ll thumb through my own copy of Single White Female. Reread my favorite paragraphs, memorize all the good quotes with meticulously placed sticky tabs. Thank the heavens that there are a lot of them. I wonder if Loraine knows that when she flips through her book. I wonder which one she lands on. I doubt any of the ones she likes are any good. Her taste in men showcases that easily, though, I can’t say the same for mine. Oh well, hopefully this all ends in the next few weeks before she even tries to sink her fangs into me. This little game of hers stops now.

Signed,

Sandra McCormick

September 10th, 2003

Loraine is still watching me. That nosey little viper. Even with her nose buried in late fees, those eyes are still burning holes into the back of my head. It’s funny, she should be on edge. Even though her husband hasn’t flat-lined yet, She’s been with someone else now. His hair reminds me of Robert’s, the peppering of gray in watered down brown. It’s too obvious to be a coincidence. Too bad George doesn’t know, though it’s not like he can talk. His voice box was removed to prevent the tumor from growing.

Robert said he’d go visit him if I watched our son. But I told him I was too busy. Max is a problematic child, and I don’t have time for him right now. This, however, caused him to call me a deadbeat of a mother. It was hurtful, but to be frank, he wasn't in the best place of mind so I’m not too upset. At least not this time. I’m sure Max will forgive me too. Besides, he has other childish activities to do like homework. I remember when I was that age clearly and with sour distaste. That was the first time I realized the world was after me. That was the time when it was Eliza. She was just jealous.

I wonder if Loraine’s jealous too: maybe it’s because she doesn't have kids. Though she shouldn't be so envious. I find Max rather tedious to deal with. Always needing things like a newborn crying for milk. Maybe with the next child I’ll have better luck, but Robert doesn’t touch me anymore. He’s constantly saying he’s too tired from the day of taking care of our son while he works from home. However, I don’t see how it’s so tiring. Writing articles seems like the easiest job in the world and for Max, all he has to do is just give him cheese puffs and a new game. Even now, I can hear that boy laughing up a storm on his PS3 with whatever game he’s playing. I think it was an army one, I don’t know. I don’t necessarily pay attention to what the games I get him are. However, Loraine would know, she pays attention to everything. Every little detail has to be correct. Though I don’t mind, it helps that she rearranges and reshelves books correctly unlike some people we work with.

It’s mornings like these that my coffee tastes exceptionally bitter. So bitter that it’s oddly sweet. Like that smile of hers. Always beaming at me from between the fiction bookshelves. I mostly stick to nonfiction now.

Tonight, Robert says he needs to talk to me. Apparently, it’s about our marriage. I don’t see why. I do the most to make it work. For instance, I always make sure there is a nice, cooked meal for him when he’s done with work, and I always offer him those massages. The ones he likes. But he says something wrong. I wonder if it’s the chemistry. It’s probably his lack of performance that’s at fault even when he does want to have a good night. I’m sure Loraine wouldn’t have a problem with him; George was exactly like him. Though I wouldn’t warn Robert. I’d let him discover that hospital bed all by himself.

I’m surprised her little game hasn’t ended yet. Changing up my routine worked somewhat well until she started coming to the library later. That snake just doesn’t quit. Maybe I will electrify the fence after all. I don’t trust her. She’s playing with me, wanting to corner me with those perfectly manicured nails so she can pounce.

Signed,

Sandra McCormick

September 13th, 2003

Loraine has been following me. The clacking mimicry she uses to follow my footsteps as I briskly walk through the isles of the library is evident even when I look her way and she acts as if she hasn't moved an inch. The dusty red carpets beneath my heels threaten to trip me but I won’t let it. Loraine will never get me; I’ll make sure of it. Like avoiding a croc, I walk zigzag between the aisles, never minding the stares. What do the patrons know anyway? I'm sure they are eating up the spectacle. I wonder if she’s bored. But maybe, since George is taken care of, this game is the only excitement in her life that makes her happy. She’s tried love; it didn’t work. So, she cursed it. I wonder what this little serpent has up her sleeve for today. Maybe she’ll finally strike but I’m ready. I have a can of mace in my purse. But what if she knows that? Odd to think but not out of character for her. However, by the way she’s acting today, she probably doesn’t. I wonder if I lead her towards the erotic novels, she’ll find another woman to torment. One whose life is more interesting than mine. One that would be just enough for her.

Surprisingly enough, Robert filed for divorce last night. I blame that curse spitter. Maybe that's what she’s planning. To somehow tear my life apart just so she can sit back and watch me die alone, miserable, and in a pool of my own tears. Joke’s on her. The love between Robert and I died as fast as it came, soon after our honeymoon; right after Max was born. I wonder what she’ll do when she realizes this. Maybe she’ll give up and move on, though I doubt it. She’s like a mule at work. That single mind of hers will never let her stop.

Speaking of dead things, I went and saw George yesterday. I didn’t tell anyone. I’m his sister so it's not weird after all, even though he despised me in the end. I watched him breathe for about an hour and then I vented about his wicked wife. I still don’t know what she’ll do but it’s not like I’ll get any answers from him. The nurses feed him sunny side up eggs for breakfast. He hates them. I wonder if Loraine lied about that to the nurses just to make him suffer. Knowing her, she probably did. That seems right up her alley for things she’d do.

Since I’m next, maybe she’ll spare me the tumor and just curse me to live alone. Not likely, though, I won’t let her get any farther than this. I won’t end up like poor, sweet George. She has no idea who she’s messing with. She had better watch her back because this bull doesn’t take lightly to that short red dress she wears. She thinks she’s finally got me cornered. Just wait and see, Loraine, you’re wrong.

Signed,

Sandra McCormick

September 16th, 2003

Loraine is after me. She's one step behind me now. The grating of those stupid stiletto heels against the tiled floor has ingrained itself against my mint. I can’t ever escape it. She’s on the insides of my eyelids, appearing in the static darkness. She won’t leave. She won’t stop. Again, her fingers dig into the ratty cover of Single White Female as if it were her lifeline. She almost had me when those beautiful fingers tapped my shoulder. How innocent of her to ask me about my husband, how his health has been... We stood in a delicate silence. I wanted to shout at her to leave. She’s turning me into a snake now too; Robert said so himself. She’s making me one of hers. I refuse it! I need a way out of this and fast. I called Robert earlier, but he wouldn’t pick up. I left him dozens of voicemails. He doesn’t understand how serious this is; my life is on the line! I’m going to end up like George: voiceless and alone.

Luckily, next to the mace, there’s now a steak knife in my purse. But I can’t fend off something I can’t see coming. I have to end this before she strikes. I can’t let her get to me.

Wait a minute, That’s it! I’ll trap her tonight, just as the library closes. She’ll never see it coming. Oh god yes, I can finally stop her torment. She won’t get away with this, not like Eliza from the eighth grade. I can end this situation once and for all. Now Robert will understand. He’ll know I wasn’t crazy. I was right!

The clock’s ticking fast but the hours are going by more slowly than ever. I can’t wait. It’s too much. I have to strike. But… the library is crowded at the moment. Maybe if I get her in the right aisle? No, still too many witnesses and what if she runs?

Easy Sandy, just breathe. You have time. Don’t make a fool of yourself now. But she’s watching me. Those glossy eyes never leave my back for a second. It’s so much. Too much. Oh, god, I don’t think I can do this. There’s a throbbing in my head. I don’t know if it’s a headache or an aneurysm. Maybe both. I need to end this and soon before I lose the rest of my mind to whatever she’s playing at.

I’m sorry Robert, Max. I didn’t mean for our lives to end up like this. You both were just unfortunate side pieces in the grand scheme of things. I hope, one day, you guys will understand and forgive me when you find these letters. If you ever find them.

The final hour of their game is here. See you in hell, Loraine.

Signed,

Sandra McCormick

September 17th, 2003

Dear Sandra,

Thanks for playing.

Love Loraine