I Told My Therapist About My Stalker, but He Already Knew novel · Chapter 5 of 24

Chapter 5: The Wall

There were a hundred and ninety-one of them, and every one was Eli.

They covered the walls of the back room from the baseboard to the ceiling, pinned in careful rows, each with a date in pencil on a strip of white tape underneath.

Eli stood in the doorway for a full minute without speaking.

The room had no furniture except one wooden chair, set in the middle of the floor and turned to face the wall.

Rain hammered on the roof of the old Queen Anne house, and the only light was a single bulb in a paper shade.

"You said you couldn't bring the rest," Eli said at last. "You said a wall doesn't fit in a briefcase."

"I did say that."

"So I came to the wall."

He walked into the room.

Eli on the ferry in his green rain jacket, squinting at the sun.

Eli at the pharmacy counter with a box of cold medicine in his fist.

Eli at the lake path, laughing, mid-stride, with his head thrown back.

Under many of the photographs there was a line of tiny handwriting.

Slept 3h, light on until 4.

Skipped lunch. Ate an apple at five.

Wore the socks.

Eli read that one three times.

"You wrote down that I wore the socks."

"Yes."

"You've written down everything."

"Everything I could see."

Eli turned.

Dr. Vandermeer stood in the doorway with his hands at his sides.

It struck Eli that it was the first time he had seen him anywhere but behind a desk.

Out of the office, in a plain grey sweater, he looked younger and a good deal more dangerous.

"Is there anyone else on these walls?" Eli asked.

"No."

"Anyone else you've ever done this to?"

"No." The pale eyes did not move from his face. "You are the only thing I have ever looked at like this."

Something warm and dark moved in Eli's chest, and he did not look at it.

He crossed to the chair.

He took hold of its back and turned it so that it faced the room, with the wall of photographs on his own side.

"Sit."

The doctor sat.

"Hands on your knees. Flat."

The long hands settled on the grey trousers.

"Do you know what I want?"

"Tell me."

"I want you to watch me." Eli reached down and pulled his sweater off over his head. "You spent six months doing it in secret. You can do it now where I can see you."

He dropped the sweater on the floor.

Then he took off his shirt and his boots and his jeans, slowly, with no hurry.

He stood in the circle of the paper-shaded bulb in his underwear with a hundred and ninety-one of himself looking down.

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