ＴＨＥ ＢＬＩＮＤ ＭＡＮ~

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐍-𝟑

I think Amy knew.

Ever since Amy moved into our neighborhood with Jake, something was never right about them. Or rather about Amy. Jake had been out of town for a couple of months. When he returned, Amy was alongside him. I remember peeking through the windows and noticing her bald head and loose clothing. There was barely any luggage in the car trunk. Jake held his arm tightly around her waist as she guided him into the house. For the first week, they never came out. Their curtains were always drawn. Then one day I bumped into her at the local grocery store. She was so warm and friendly as if she had known me for years. It immediately put me off.

I think she knew. I don't know how.

We kept bumping into each other, and she wouldn't stop talking. About the weather, about the city, about herself, about people in general. About Jake. I began to see a pattern. I don't know how to put it. They were always so-so dramatic - always inviting pity. The humidity caused her breathing problems. Thetraffic, a migraine. The suspicious women in the neighborhood, who never talked to her. All this when she was still under chemotherapy for her cancer. She had no hair on her scalp, but her eyebrows were perfectly fine. The other time she said she was on heavy steroids, but not once did I find her puffy-faced or putting on any kind of weight. It was all very odd.

To top it all, Jake wasn't taking care of her. If you believed her that is. I could never picture Jake the way she did. Never. I always thought of Jake as charming and funny, always calm and composed, and someone who never used his blindness as a crutch. He was always surrounded by people, and loved the attention. He was always very aware of his surroundings. Like he'd know where everyone was seated on a restaurant table despite the noise, and he would always look towards you, not exactly at you, while talking in a group.

I think she knew. Maybe Jake told her. Then one day, in the middle of the night, she knocked on my door. Tears streaming down her face. She didn't say anything at first. When I insisted she said she had a massive argument with Jake. Apparently Jake had been cheating on her with someone at work. Someone called Emma. Which was weird, because both Jake and I worked at the same office and we never had anyone called Emma. The next say I saw them both sun basking in the garden as if nothing had happened. She was all oiled and tanned, sipping Margaritas and reading the book. If only I had more powerful binocs I could have told what she was reading.

I think she knew. Maybe she saw me prying through the windows one day.

Later someone at work told me that she had a Munchausen syndrome. A sickness that involved pretending to be sick or under some form of personal distress. It happened mostly to people with poor social skills or coping strategies from tragic events, or with people with low self-esteem. Pretending to be in pain allowed them to be surrounded by people who cared and showered attention.

That added up. And the more time I spent with her, I was convinced she was suffering. I thought of it more as a mental illness, and I felt the need to humour her whenever she went overboard, But never in a million years would have I ever

thought that she would fake her own death. I think she knew, She knew that I envied her, and that I secretly had feelings for Jake.

When I opened my eyes again, I was tied up on a chair with my hands behind my back. My mouth was taped with many layers of transparent kitchen cellophane. I could feel the silvery touch of a big metal ball, shoved inside my mouth, on my tongue. The blood around my forehead had dried up, and lumps of clotted blood were stuck on my hair.

Amy and Jake both lay on the floor talking to each other, staring at the ceiling. A double barreled shotgun lay over Jake's head.

*....but only after seven years," Jake said to Amy. "That's a long time Jake," Amy said.
"You could move to another town, take up a different name.