Chapter 3:

 

          Steel Margaret looked at the strange man as he rounded the corner. She had never seen him before today, although she had cruised this neighborhood so many times in the past that she considered herself an expert on all that went on inside of it and around it. She wondered where he had come from, where he lived.

          She deduced that the man hardly ever went out. So maybe he worked at home. Or maybe he was unemployed. What did he do all day instead of going out?

          The woman was medium-sized with long brown hair in knots, tangles, and unkempt curls. It was apparent that she didn’t sacrifice much time with her hair. Although it was disordered, it flowed freely over her shoulders neatly and with its own disorganized style.

          Her eyes were a mixture of brown and blue, having a mystical quality about them. They were opened wide as she looked on at the man. Her eyes did not look to the left or to the right, but kept their gaze on their target. The way she looked at the man was similar to the way a predator would look at its prey. There was determination in that wide-eyed stare.

          Her clothes were faded and too large for her. She was wearing a faded checkered button-down shirt, left open to reveal an equally faded light-blue T-shirt with small blotches of bleached-white areas. There was no printing on the shirt, just solid coloring. Her jeans used to be dark blue, but now the color was faded to an ugly shade of blue-green from lack of proper care and excessive use.

          Even though her shirt was large, an observer could see that she did not wear a bra, since her breasts were unrestrained within the confines of her shirt. One would probably relate her to one of those free-love hippie women of the sixties.

          Her skin was pale and her stature was slightly bent, as if she was suffering from a back problem. Although clear and obviously well-maintained, her skin was so pale that it looked like it should have been stuck on a dead person rather than on a living being.

          The outward look of her was one of extreme curiosity. She had a facial structure that tended to reveal that many questions were lingering behind her stare. With her mouth opened slightly and her tongue slightly sticking out the left side of it, she tended to show others her profound and intense concentration.

 

          She was out enjoying the night. For some unknown reason, the night air affected her in a profound way. It seemed to lift her spirits.

          And it was her spirits that desperately needed to be lifted...

          She didn’t come out to meet anyone today because she had no intention of doing so. She was slightly upset today. So no human contact would be a perfect end to a perfectly shitty day.

 

          The day had started out alright. At least, according to her. Steel woke up next to a handsome man. She was, like almost every morning after first moving in with him, amazed that they were still together. He had told her when they were going together for about a month that they would be spending forever together, and she had only half-believed him, thinking that what he had said was just pillow-talk, meant only to make her feel happy. But she was still surprised to see him lying next to her.

          After living together for a few more months, Steel mentioned to her boyfriend, Fred, that maybe they should get married. It seemed to be the right thing to do, and she also had mentioned this to him.

          At the mention of marriage, a look of disgust crossed his face and he quickly disagreed. His reason for this disagreement, he said, was that they didn’t need anything legal to prove their love for each other. And he didn’t want to go through the hassles of a wedding. Not to mention the expenses and the boring ceremony. He complained relentlessly and without end about this.

          Steel reluctantly saw it his way, although she suspected that the real reason why he didn’t marry her was that he was slightly afraid of too much commitment, like most men were (she had read this in some women’s magazine and thought it had a ring of truth to it) and did not want to be tied down.. The reason that he gave her was complete bullshit, she also suspected. But she did not let him know this.

          After a while, it became alright to her. They were together. They were in love. That was all that mattered, right? So it hardly made any difference that they weren’t united legally.

          But, as they days went by, her doubts about their relationship grew. If he didn’t want to marry her, for whatever reasons he had, then why did he still want her around? And why did she still want him around, for that matter? Didn’t she want a commitment? Wasn’t that why she had stayed?

          Questions of love then filled her thoughts. Did he love her? He said so, on many occasions before. So, what was the problem? Why did he act this way if he truly, deeply, loved her?

          And as their time together went on, they drifted apart from each other, though half of her refused to believe it. Maybe it was his fear of commitment that was scaring him away, Steel thought. Maybe he assumed that she wanted something more than what he desired. What had been so great now was slowly eroding.

         

          She had met Fred four months before. At first, he was turned away by her outward appearance. But then, as he got to know her, he found himself falling in love. They had become seriously intimate and, not long after that, moved in together. She owed this all to her strong, unyielding persistence.

 

          For a few weeks before they had met, she had followed him, watching his every move, stalking him. Watching behind buildings and in alleys, Steel watched until their meeting was inevitable.

          Day by day, their love seemed to be constantly growing. And every day was another day of perfection. Both Steel and Fred had been amazed at this growth.

          Lying cradled in his big, muscular arms, she felt that this moment was as close to perfection as anything could be. She could smell the slight metallic odor of his sweat and found herself aroused by it. So she closed her eyes and let it sink in.

          Intoxicated, she got out of bed, softly nudging Fred awake and listening to the sounds of his soft protests. “Get up, young lover,” she said softly into his exposed ear and tapped him a few times on the nose. “Get up.”

          “Okay,” he replied a few moments later, brushing at his nose, as a form of a delayed reaction to her touch. She detected a hint of annoyance in his voice, but didn’t dwell on it. “I’m up.” He then stretched and yawned loudly as he tossed himself out of bed. She had time to admire his muscular body before he stumbled into the bathroom to take a shower.

          As she listened to the water of the shower, she went to the window and opened the curtains, revealing a majestic day. The sun was shining and the birds were chirping loudly. It was going to be a beautiful day, she thought to herself. Just lovely.

          After looking admiringly out the window, she put on her robe and went downstairs. Everything was going according to routine. She was happy. He was happy. Everything was going fine. Just fine. She thought herself blessed with something so close to heaven.

          Then, during breakfast, which she had slaved almost half an hour over, she noticed that something in him had changed. He had remained silent and, when prompted, refused to tell her what the problem was, though it was strongly evident that something was wrong. She could only guess at whether it was another woman, drinking, drugs, gambling, or whatever reason popped into her head at that moment. It could have been all of the above, for all she knew.

          But still he claimed that nothing was wrong. She had let it drop after a while, when it became apparent that her probing was going nowhere.

          After almost a whole meal fed with silence, Fred told her, in a half-hearted mumble, that he was going to the nearby drug store to pick up a pack of cigarettes. He pushed the chair from the table with a loud screech and got up without another sound. Except for the sound of his fork falling to the floor. That sound would later stay with her for a long time, reminding her of this horrible event.

          She got up too, but went to the couch and turned on the TV, with the volume turned down low, so she would have to strain to hear the sounds. This concentration shut out everything else, since it took up most of her attention.

          She heard him slam the door behind himself. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw that he didn’t look back at her, as if he wanted no part of her. She waited until she also heard the car door slam and the engine start. As she listened to him gun the engine and drive away, she turned the volume a little louder.

          As pictures flickered across the television screen, Steel realized something was wrong. She should have realized this earlier, since they didn’t kiss themselves good morning. He didn’t kiss her before he shut the door behind him, either. This was another point she had missed until now.

          In the past, they kissed whenever one of them left, in the mornings, during and after meals, and before they went to sleep. Or at any other time when it felt necessary, or desired. Not a day went by when kisses were not kissed.

          Though she didn’t know what exactly was wrong, she felt a deep coldness rising up from inside of her. She tried desperately to ignore it, but it lay there, heavy and stubborn.

          She waited almost an hour for him to come home as the feeling inside her slowly grew. Programs on the television slowly melted into one as time ticked by and the dishes at the breakfast table remained as they were. She alternated her glance repeatedly between the clock on the wall and the television set.

          She heard no sound of a motor or any other sound that would indicate that he had come home. She strained her ears, trying to hear even the tiniest of sounds above the sounds of the television, but finally gave up, determining that he wasn’t home yet.

          Surely it didn’t take him this long to buy a pack of cigarettes. Surely it didn’t take this long to buy anything. So where was he?

          She sat on the couch with the TV on, but not watching it. This time, she kept her gaze alternating between the clock on the wall and the door. The sounds on the TV became part of the background noise, not really noticeable.

          Time went by. Minutes followed minutes and hours followed hours. The second hand made its revolutions, making sharp ticking sounds as it moved, the sounds being magnified ten-fold in her ears. And still no Fred. No fucking Fred.

          Inside of her, a variation of feelings brewed. First she got worried. And then she got upset. And finally she got pissed off. She turned off the TV and slowly pushed herself up from the couch.

          She went to the door, opened it, and looked out. His car (their car, she thought with a grim face) was still gone from the driveway and was nowhere to be seen. She looked to the right, then to the left. Then she slowly looked at the mailbox beside the doorway...

          ...And wished she could take back that movement, that turn of her head. Because that slight movement caused her life to change forever.

          Steel noticed a piece of paper hanging halfway out of the slot. She closed her eyes tightly as she dimly had some thought as to what that meant. She held back any tears that were already forming. After a moment, she reopened her eyes and decided to face whatever came.

          Slowly, she pulled it out, unfolded it, and read:

 

GONE AWAY.

 

NOT COMING BACK.

 

          No signature. None. And all in capitals. It looked like it was written in a rush, because the handwriting wasn’t that great. It was a simple message, but it came right to the point. And the message was very clear to her. Too clear for her liking.

          But this wasn’t right. No way. She shook her head and read the note again, not wanting to believe it. She read it a third time, hoping in vain that it would be erased as she re-read it. Or maybe for the subject to be changed.

          He had promised that they would be together forever. Forever. Meaning more than a lifetime. Surely not six months, which had seemed so perfect to Steel, but obviously wasn’t.

          Suddenly, a pain like a stabbing to the gut pulled at her. She doubled over and gasped for air. She fell to the ground on all fours, remaining in that position for a few minutes, breathing heavily.

          Steel knew she probably was over-reacting to the situation, but it still took her a while to get her senses together and stand up.

          She went back into the house and sat back down on the couch. And for a while she stared. Just stared at the white walls of the room. Her entire life seemed to be falling apart, right in front of her. And there was nothing she could do about it. Nothing. Nothing at all.

 

          After a while of sitting and doing nothing, she decided to do something. So she picked up the remote with a shaking hand and turned on the television.

          She looked at the screen but didn’t watch what was playing. She set the remote on the coffee table in front of her. Noises filled the silence, but they were ignored. Instead, she grabbed a pillow and pressed it to her face. She screamed and let out loud sobs into the pillow, and soon it was wet with her tears. So she tossed the pillow to the side and cried into her hands.

          Fred. It was Fred. He had ruined it all. Now her life was falling apart because of him. It just wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.

          She had been happy this morning, but now... it’s funny how things can change after just one moment. She didn’t think that it was fair.

          After an hour of sitting on the couch, letting her tears dry themselves on her pale cheeks, she decided to take a walk. She had no destination in mind, just had the pain of her heart and her hurt, confused, and angry emotions to walk off.

          So she got herself dressed, slowly and in a state of semi-shock. She walked out the door, without bothering to close the door behind her or turn off the TV. She wasn’t concerned with anyone coming in and stealing. In fact, she didn’t give a shit anymore. This life was over, anyone else could have it. She didn’t want any part of it anymore.

          She walked for most of the day. Thoughts of suicide, murdering her ex-boyfriend (if she ever found him, which seemed unlikely), and revenge whirled around in her head. After an hour or two, her feet began to hurt, but she kept on walking, too intent on her broken heart to even care about the pain. She brushed past people without stopping to excuse herself, and didn’t bother stopping for something to eat, even though her hunger pains drove her half-mad.

          As she walked, the suicide idea began to make more and more sense. Not only would it be an end to her pain, it would show Fred who was in control. It would also let others know not to mess with Steel Margaret. But then thoughts of spending a lifetime alone bothered her into dismissing that idea as soon as it was thought.

 

          And now she was here, looking at that man. For some unknown reason, the man made her stop what she had been doing. From her vantage point behind a large trash bin in the alley next to a big apartment building, she looked on. From the way the man looked, she deduced that he was deep in thought.

          His hands were clasped behind his back, and he kept his gaze upward, into the night sky. From time to time, she would catch him mumbling to himself and shaking his head quickly, almost as if to shake away some bad thoughts. She found herself wondering what was going on inside that head of his. He seemed to be oblivious to his surroundings. She was a little surprised to find that he didn’t bump into anything or anyone, considering the upward direction that he was facing.

          She smiled as she looked at a man who, in her opinion, resembled a philosopher. All he needed to complete the picture was a graying goatee and a pipe in one hand. And a haircut.

          She assumed that he was someone who had a lot of money. She assumed that this was the case not by the way he looked, but by the way his eyes looked. From her limited point of view, they appeared to have a shady characteristic about them that made her think of money. The connection between the two didn’t make too much sense, but she trusted that feeling nevertheless.

          Steel let her keen interest guide her movements. She decided to follow him as he made his way up the stairs. She followed at a great distance, just in case he turned around and spotted his pursuer.

          The man went up the stairs slowly at first, and then quickened his pace as he reached the top, to one of the apartment buildings, and went in.

          When he walked into the building, she turned and walked away, toward the back of the building, looking for another entrance inside.