[1:11] Lavender Valley

The fresh air was just what you needed to clear your head. 

You set out on the same path you walked the other day.  You were sure the path continued on past the gazebo to form a larger loop around the whole complex. It wasn’t a marathon but you just wanted to get out and stretch your legs so it would be good enough. 

By the time you got dressed and made it out of your complex’s front door most of your neighbors had already left for work. Though a few stragglers were still making the hasty walk to the sheltered car park where all the tenants parked. 

From the time it took you to cross the courtyard you counted eight stragglers. They were shielding themselves from the weather under umbrellas, wrapped tight in long rain coats and from across the courtyard the murky morning haze reduced them to nearly featureless human forms. It was subtle, especially from a distance but you could tell they were all women just by the way they walked. There was a kind of grace and a sway to their stride especially when wearing heels. 

Your mind began to drift back to what Josh had said about being the only men living here. It didn’t make sense. Yet as you scanned each straggler, analyzing them for the subtitles that would reveal their gender, you clocked each one of them as a woman. If it were true that you, Josh and that other guy Josh had mentioned were the only men, why would that be? Did they make a point to only rent to women? If so why only three men? Surely there were boyfriends and husbands living here. Surely someone had a deadbeat brother who was couch surfing, right? It had to be. 

Letting your thoughts drift without any real direction, you walked past the gardens, to the gazebo and then followed the path that would lead you down along the rear of the complex. There was a line of trees on one side of the paved path and tall grasslands with cattails on the other. No one else was out, you had it all to yourself. It was perfect.

Eventually the path ended at a tall chain link fence marking the neighbors property and an alley that was used primarily by maintenance vehicles and garbage trucks. You didn’t want the walk to end but you were starting to feel soggy and you really should spend some time today finding a job. So you stepped into the alley and followed it around to the front of the complex and the final leg of your cleansing walk.

Shortly after starting down the front sidewalk that ran along the sheltered parking spots a flash of headlights turning in from the main road caught your attention. The car was going a little too fast as it swung into a parking spot about forty or fifty feet from where you were and lurched to a heavy stop. A second later a woman clumsily stumbled up onto the sidewalk.

Her arms were full and she was struggling. She fought first with her long and straight dirty blonde hair that insisted on wrapping around her face and getting caught in her mouth. She tried to spit out the strands of hair while fighting with the compartments of her large purse that wanted to gape open and collect all the rain. As she dug around inside with her one free hand bits of paper, wrappers and other belongings spilled out. She cursed as she dove to scoop them back into the bag. Her other arm was occupied by fighting to keep her Sephora bag from slipping from her armpit and crashing to the ground.

The entirety of her performance of frustration and incoordination lasted only a few seconds before she found her keys and collected herself just enough to lope toward the front door of her building. 

(Cunning Roll, -10% for Just One of the Girls: Success!)

She was wearing chunky heels that weren’t too tall, two or three inches if you had to guess. Though from how far away you were it was tough to tell. It was clear she didn’t know how to walk in them. She walked pitched forward slightly, as if falling and by pure determination and luck caught herself with each step. She was tall, with broad shoulders that seemed at odds with the curviness of her hips. She wore a black cardigan over a shiny blue blouse and a pair of brown pants that fell just past the ankles. There was an awkwardness to how she held herself, how she dressed and…everything else about her. It wouldn’t be unfair to call her a hot mess. 

With the grace of a newborn fawn she crossed the courtyard and whipped the door open to her building just wide enough for her to slip inside and then vanished out of sight. You slowed as you approached her car, unable to take your eyes off the front of her building. Expecting maybe that she’d emerge with a weirdness encore that might bring some kind of explanation or closure to what you just watched. Unfortunately that didn’t happen.. 

You shook your head to clear whatever that was from your thoughts but before you could continue on home you caught something out of the corner of your eye. Through the windshield of the decade-old sedan in the backseat was a pile of clutter half covered with a blanket that appeared to have a sports team logo you kind of recognized. You took a step closer and noticed that beneath the blanket was a high vis vest, muddy boots, heavy stained jeans and a Carhartt hoodie. You’re pretty sure you also saw a stubby brim of a hard hat poking out as well from behind all that. On the floor in front of them were three black garbage bags full of what appeared to be old tee shirts, jeans and boxer briefs, all in black, blues and greys stuffed behind the seats. 

None of these looked like they were even close to fitting the woman you saw. She was broad shouldered but not that broad shouldered. Even from your vantage point you could tell that those would fit a giant. Maybe they were her boyfriend’s or her husband’s. Maybe she packed them up to give to goodwill and like most people they would need to sit in the car for six months before actually being donated.

Either way, Sophie was right. There were other men that lived here.

Weirdly the backseat was the cleanest part of the car. The front was full of trash. Crumpled and greasy bags of fast food and half drunk bottles of soda had been thrown onto the floor of the passenger side almost up to the seat. The dashboard had wadded balls of paper gathering like tumbleweeds while the console was covered in yellow Post-It notes that hung over most of the gauges and controls. They were scrawled with writing too messy to read. Hanging from the mirror were a clump of a dozen or more old gas station air fresheners as well as some dog tags.

A flash of hot pink in the heap of trash directed your attention to what was not one, but a bunch of issues of Sports Illustrated, particularly the swimsuit editions. Was she trying to hide them beneath the trash? Why didn’t she just throw them out? 

You became suddenly aware that you were just leering into someone's parked car and if you weren’t careful the cops would be called. It’s not like the neighbors knew you yet. So you stepped away and hastily finished your walk hoping that each car that turned into the complex’s drive wasn’t about to flick on its flashers and hit its siren. 

A few minutes later you were walking in your apartment, throwing your soggy hoodie up on the hook and kicking off your damp sneakers. Safe from the fuzz that was surely scouring the entire state for the car-peeping perp.

The first thing you did was sniff the air. You felt a sinking feeling hit your guts as you braced to smell that phantom perfume, but it had cleared. Of course it had. Still though you felt a sense of relief and you again reminded yourself that you were being absurd.

You took a deep non-perfumed breath and prepared to get back to your routine. 

You thought maybe you’d make a quick bite to eat and then settle in at the computer for a few hours. After that you wondered if you should give Josh or Sophie a text and set something up for the weekend. It had been a while since you were stable enough to just hang out with friends. 

Just as you were about to make your way to the kitchen you noticed a small bit of yellow paper stuck to the bottom of your shoe. Ordinarily you would have ignored it but you noticed on the small exposed corner the end of a translucent strip of adhesive. It was a Post-It note.

It must have one of the things that fell out when she struggled with her oversized purse.

You plucked it off the bottom of your shoe. It was soaked through and dirt from the walk was scoured into it making it almost impossible to read. Almost. It took some studying to figure out what it actually said.

It was dated about a month ago and beneath it was a scrawl of words in shaky handwriting. The sentences seemed to run into one another and were crammed together wherever they could fit as if someone was frantically writing in a hurry.

Weaker now cant lift things can’t do job anymore

I shaved my face and arms and chest hair was disgusting

Hormones??? Doctor doesn’t understand whats going on going to see Theresa

Hair growing faster now, no longer bald turning lighter???

No one believes me what is happening?????

Fashion on youtube WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY

You read it a few more times to make sure you deciphered the erratic notes correctly. It’s clear this was written by someone who was disturbed. It was paranoid nonsense. 

Still though, as you reread the soaked note…you felt sick. A heavy pitt grew in your stomach. You told yourself this is nonsense. That this was insane ramblings. That it was meaningless

But…why did it resonate with you? Why did it make you feel…so weird? 

1.) Mention it to Sophie. Relax. This is a disturbed person and you were being silly again. Talk to Sophie about this. Maybe she can shed some light on what is going on with her.

2.) Show Josh the Post-It. Trust your instincts. Everything is telling you this is weird and Josh might be the only one who will believe you.  

3.) Go to the Source. Head over to Awkward Woman’s house and return to the note and maybe…just maybe…shed some light on what this paranoid scrawl actually means.