I’ve never been very good at remembering to lock my doors at night. Most nights I fall asleep on the couch watching TV and move to my bed when I wake up in the middle of the night, so I’m too much of a zombie to think about the doors. I’ve lived in safe neighborhoods for most of my life, but now that I’ve moved into the city, I should probably get better at locking my doors at night. Rachael was always good at remembering to lock the doors. I’d fall asleep while we watched some TV show and she’d lock the doors, turn off the lights, and get me to brush my teeth before bed. But Rachael’s gone now. So back to my old habits.
But after a few months of self-pity, I decided to start focusing on self-improvement. I’ve been waking up early, going to the gym, doing my dishes, and of course, locking the doors at night. It’s funny how easy it is to form new habits. When you start doing something every night, it becomes second nature. I used to search for my keys in the morning, only to find that I’d left them in the door when I got home from work the day before. This was such a common occurrence, it became the first place I would look when I was running late for work and couldn’t find my keys. But that hadn’t happened in weeks (maybe even months) and I woke up every morning to find I had locked all the doors the night before.
Now that I’d been working on myself, I was starting to feel good. I didn’t wake up every morning to a house littered with junk food wrappers and a stack of dirty dishes slowly inching toward the ceiling. My house was relatively clean and I was in the best shape of my life. I was starting to feel like a bit of a catch and I wasn’t even thinking about Rachael anymore. It was time to hit the dating apps again.
Things started slow. I was getting my footing again. I went on a few dates that ended up being nothing special, but that was okay. I wasn’t even sure what I was looking for yet. Eventually I matched with a girl named Hannah. She wasn’t exactly my type, but she seemed cool in kind of an artistic way. She had a strange 1920s style haircut, but she was really into art and poetry and she had this smile. Something about her smile just drew me to her. The pictures on her profile all showcased this wide-mouthed grin that revealed the straightest, whitest teeth I’d ever seen. It was almost enchanting. I wanted to meet her just so I could make her smile; to hear her laugh.
We connected over books and planned to meet up at a museum. Our first date was nice. She was a little quiet but she was cuter than she looked in her profile, and her smile was just as captivating in person; maybe even more so. After the museum, we walked down the street for drinks and dinner. Conversation flowed pretty naturally and we eventually walked back to our cars. It turned out the museum locked the gate to their parking lot so I couldn’t get to my car. But that was okay, because Hannah parked on the street and she offered me a ride home. As a thanks, I offered her a drink, and she came inside.
Hannah ended up staying the night. It was clunky, but it was my first time since Rachael, so at least the ice was finally broken. Hannah and I didn’t text much over the next few weeks. I wasn’t sure if I was exactly struck by her and it seemed like she was feeling the same way. We were keeping each other around, but at arm’s length in case something better came around, and that seemed fine with both of us.
After a few weeks, we planned a second meet-up. I was having varying degrees of success with the other girls I was seeing, so I wanted someone familiar to boost my confidence. Hannah invited me to her house for a movie night, so I showed up with a bottle of wine. I thought I had the wrong address at first. Hell, the whole neighborhood looked far too nice for someone my age to afford, but Hannah appeared at the door, so I knew I had the right place.
We didn’t end up watching a movie that night. We’d barely even opened the wine when Hannah threw herself at me and we quickly moved to her bedroom. While the spontaneity was invigorating at first, the sex was, once again, underwhelming. I was also a little disappointed that we barely shared 5 minutes of conversation. I was still figuring out my dating goals, but I realized that a relationship centered around sex, and boring sex at that, was not the ticket.
I snuck out early the next morning to go camping. I don’t think I even woke Hannah to say goodbye, but she knew I was leaving to camp the next morning and that I wouldn’t have service. I figured the ball was in her court. I wasn’t going to think about her at all during my camping trip, and I wasn’t going to text her when I got back. But if she texted me, maybe I’d keep her at arm’s length for a little while longer.
I didn’t hear from Hannah for nearly a week after I got back from camping. I’d nearly forgotten about her to be completely honest. When she did finally text me, I think I’d forgotten about the very forgettable-ness of our last encounter. What I did remember was her smile. I also might have had a few drinks, and it’s not like girls on tinder were lining up to date me. We planned to meet up a few days later.
We met at a bar and caught up on the last few weeks. I told Hannah about my camping trip and she told me about her new job. Eventually we made it back to my place. I have to admit, things in the bedroom had improved. She finally felt, I don’t know, present? It seemed like a promising turnaround from our last date. Maybe I would keep her a little closer than arm’s length for a little while.
That morning, I had to leave early for a project at work, but since we were at my house, I couldn’t sneak out unnoticed his time. I woke Hannah up before I jumped in the shower, and she was fully dressed and ready to go by the time I got out. I kissed her goodbye, a towel wrapped around my waist, and walked in the kitchen, while she left through the front door.
Just because I was thinking about keeping her a little closer than arm’s length didn’t mean I was going to rush into things head-on either. I didn’t text her for a few days, but as I was getting ready for bed one night, I remembered something from the book I was reading that I wanted to tell her about. I turned off the lights and got into bed. I sent her a quick text and rolled over to fall asleep.
That’s when I heard it. Or at least I think I heard it. Just after I hit send, it sounded like there was a muffled vibration in my room. It sounded close. My notifications are turned off so it couldn’t have been my phone. But I had to have imagined it, right? After all, how could she have gotten in here? I KNOW I lock my doors every night. It’s a habit now, remember? And I saw her leave. Right? Or had I already been in the kitchen when she left? Had I heard the door shut? God, I wish I could remember now.
I’m typing this story from my bed. It’s the only thing I could think to do. If she IS here, I don’t want her to know that I know. I can’t call 911 or any of my friends, because that will make it too obvious that I heard her. I just hope someone on here knows what to do.
Please help. As I lie here with my sheets pulled up to my chin, the hair on the back of my neck standing up, all I can think of is what initially drew me to Hannah: her smile. And suddenly, it’s not so enchanting anymore. Frankly, it’s a bit creepy. All I can picture is her lying under my bed as I type this, a wide-mouthed grin spread across her face.