Monday, May 28, 2018

surveillance

january 1 2008
January 1 2008
These past three days I’ve been a nervous wreck. I’m unsure if Mom is aware of my mental sovereignty or not, given my actions. Back at Karl’s, she came back up from the basement, snatched up the folders, and said we have to go. Sharon refused, as the will had not been signed yet. However, we all left quickly once Karl returned, shotgun drawn. He kicked us out into the night. Mom was surprisingly calm and Sharon was the furious one. The translator man was shaking from the ordeal and called a cab home. The drive home was a blur of fighting and stale fast food stink. I wrote the last entry in the early morning locked in the bathroom, nursing my aching jaw. In the morning after she saw me swallow my capsule to regurgitate later, Mom took me aside, gave me an ice pack, and asked how I was feeling. I said my jaw is sore but I’m okay. I decided to roll the dice and take a chance playing the fool. I asked what had happened last night and claimed that all I remember was being in the car. She said that we went to Grandpa Karl’s house to notarize his will, but it didn’t get signed because he had a violent manic episode and we had to leave in a hurry. She went on explaining that I had hit my head when Sharon stopped short on the drive home. I played along as if it had all actually happened. She said, “There will be more opportunities.” Her placid demeanor made me uneasy. I’m pretty sure that she intended for me to get the journal, and had I been taking those caps regularly, I think that I may have done the same thing. Even when fully medicated, I still remember feeling a gravitational pull towards the vague
january 1 2008
concept of a book that I couldn’t rationalize in that state. I think that’s why I gravitated to that library job. I just don’t know if I would have been any more successful had I been under that medication’s spell. I hesitated plenty. Who knows what she’s thinking. Last night, after the ball dropped to usher in 2008, Mom got a call and stepped out of the room. I figured it was John with New Year’s wishes, but I don’t think it was. “What do you mean he filed a restraining order? Just us? Not Sharon? What the fuck? This is bullshit!” All this over that goddamn book. There’s something terribly special about it beyond my understanding, and it frightens me to be honest. Maybe it’s best that I didn’t get it. No doubt Mom would know if I had it because Karl would be losing his shit once he realized it was missing, and I’m sure he has some kind of deep connection to it so he would have known immediately. And, feeling what I felt, there’s no telling what would happen if the likes of my Mom got control over it. Also, I was scanning through that week of surveillance footage tonight when something caught my eye. For a moment, I saw a flash. I rewound and replayed. I got him. From behind the tree someone emerged for no more than a second to snap a photo. If I would have blinked, I would have missed it. The person had walked across the street in such a way as to perfectly conceal themselves behind the tree, out of view of my window. I slowed the playback frame by frame and stopped at the moment right before the flash. I got up close to the TV to get a better look. I couldn’t believe what I saw. I rubbed my eyes and looked again. It was difficult to make out,
january 1 2008
but the face I saw made my heart skip uncomfortably. Behind a shiny pair of glasses was what looked exactly like the face of Kevin Haas. Like an avalanche, my mind was lost in a flurry of thoughts. I had forgotten about Kevin. He had been slowly drifting away from me for a long time, becoming increasingly reclusive and stopped answering his phone, but after high school ended it was like he disappeared. He had tried to do some freelance work in the past, but the last time I spoke to him I remember him saying that he landed a full time assistant job at some startup called Ricola Events. I looked up Ricola Events on the Adler’s computer but I couldn’t find any company matching that name in our area, or in all of Alabama for that matter. I still had his number in my phone so I dialed it. The number had been disconnected. There’s no doubt in my mind that I invited Mr. Slim into his life anymore. Was he lying? What has he been doing? Why is he taking candid photos of me while I fucking sleep? Is he working for the cult now? For Mom? This visit north has turned from one of the best trip’s I’ve had in years into one of the most alarming. I’m going to try and find him when I get home. Ok, just woke up from a dream I can’t forget. I followed shadow me into the garage. He pointed to the entrance to the attic. That must be where that safe is hidden. I can’t fucking wait to get home.