Chapter 2: T.G.I.F.

Friday, January 20, 2023, 8:30 a.m.

Melanie had just settled into her office chair. Fifty yards (46 meters) away from Melanie’s desk, a man in his late twenties was walking through the company parking lot near her Honda. There was nothing unusual about his appearance, his size, his dress, or his movements. Until he stopped abruptly, stared at the car for a moment, and then hurriedly wrote a note and left it tucked under her windshield wiper blade.

Much later, at the end of her workday, she put away her work, shut off the big mechanical calculator on her desk, and headed out to the parking lot. Melanie was surprised by the piece of notepaper on her windshield.

“Your tires are DANGEROUSLY bald. The cords are showing on your left front, which means the tread is entirely GONE. It could blow at any time! Unsafe for your child (I saw the car seat in the back). Sorry for the bad news.”

She was shocked! Numb, she put the note into her old shoulder bag.

I can’t deal with this now, I have to pick up Amy, then I will look into this fresh hell after we get home. At least it’s a very short distance from daycare to the complex.

I guess I’m getting tires tomorrow. Shit! Every time I pull that credit card out of my wallet, there’s more smoke coming off of it.

Her aged Honda wasn’t much to look at, but at least it always started right up for her. Ten minutes later, she pulled up at Amy’s daycare center and (since it was Friday) walked into the office with her checkbook.

“Hi, I’m Melanie Geary, I need to pay the fees for Amy.”

The manager paged through the computer until she found Amy’s record.

“No, Amy is paid up through the next four weeks. We’re good.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’ve got her fee payment recorded here on Wednesday, and, let me check.”

She opened another window on the screen.

“Yeah, we have the payment recorded in our journal. So it’s confirmed.”

“But, but, do you have a copy of the check?”

“No, it shows here as a money order. Like they sell at the Post Office. So, good news, you’re all set. Thanks for being all caught up.”

Melanie was truly stunned. Distractedly, she brought Amy out to the Honda and strapped her in to her car seat. Then she was back to sitting behind the wheel, unmoving, like she was back on Monday. But this time, instead of exhaustion, her mind was racing.

How could I have paid Amy’s fees, and not remembered doing it? And with a money order? It’s all just unbelievable!”

“Mama? Mama? What’s wrong?”

“Sorry, baby, I’m just really confused.”

“Mama, let’s go home and have dinner. Then you will feel better. I will get you your blanket and you can rest on the couch, and I will take care of you. You can have one of my juice boxes. That will help.”

God! She’s so sweet. I do not deserve to have her.

“You are the best daughter in the world, Amy. I love you. You’re right, let’s go home.”

As they approached the lobby of her apartment complex, Melanie suddenly conceived the reason her daughter’s fees had been mysteriously paid.

Oh, no. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. I can’t.

I. don’t. even. know. his. name!

Tentatively, she lowered the door of her mailbox. Inside with the usual mail were two of the white cards, a gray business-sized envelope, and a large permanent marker with red ink.

“Card #1: By now, you know what I did at Northeast Daycare. I beg you, don’t be frightened. It was for Amy. I MEAN YOU NO HARM.

“Card #2: While I’m away this weekend, please read my letter in the gray envelope. Afterwards, if you mark your mailbox door with an ‘X’ using the red Sharpie pen, then I promise you won’t ever hear from me again. — 25 — Thinking of You.”

Up in their apartment: “I want to spoil you tonight. Let’s make some French Toast!” Amy’s all-time favorite—she was actually hopping with happiness.

So what if it’s a breakfast food. She loves it, it tastes good, and it’s something she can help me prepare. For her, that might be the best part. And it gets my mind off of everything that is happening. Off of the mystery man.

An hour later, Amy was torpid and drowsy after wolfing down their special dinner.

“Time for bed, baby. Thank you for helping in the kitchen.”

“Do you feel better, Mama?”

“I do, yes. Let’s go tuck you in and have a story.”