The Man With the Gold Earring

THE MAN WITH THE GOLD EARRING

Everywhere Tally looked, he was there. Home, school, library, at her part-time job. At least she was pretty sure he was a he. There was no way to tell without getting closer, but there was no way she was going to do that! Stranger Danger!

So, she set out to ignore him. Pretend he wasn’t there. But it was hard. She never saw him in her house—he wasn’t that bold, but she only saw him outside—across the street, walking by her house, parked in a creepy van around the corner from her house. Once, she was sure he was the letter carrier, but maybe not.

At school she’d see him in the halls, outside the cafeteria, across the parking lot after school. Once she thought she saw him sitting in the principal’s office when she walked by.

Tally spent a lot time at the library—it was her happy place. She was a good student, and liked the quiet. In the library she was able to work on her assignments without interruption. That was until she saw him, walking through the stacks, running his finger along the the spines of the books as if he was looking for a particular tome. But he didn’t pull any books out. He just kept looking. Then she saw him in the computer section clicking away, engrossed in his screen. She saw him outside the library, across the street, sitting at a table outside the cafe.

And, of course, she saw him at her job. It was a small job at the grocery store. She was a cashier-slash-shelf-stocker-slash-anything-Mr.- Timmins-wanted-her-to-do. The store was pretty big—not Walmart big, but big enough. Big enough to allow him to roam at will. In fact, she was at work when she first noticed him.

It was a typical Tuesday, after school. Tally was working four ’til close at nine. When she got in, Mr. Timmins wanted her to restock all the items that people had decided they didn’t want when they were checking out. You’d be surprised at how many people decide they don’t really want the truffle oil, or artisanal bread once they got to the cash register and saw how much the luxury items cost.

Tally liked restocking. It was quiet work that really took up very little of her bandwidth. The only thing that would have made it better would be if she could have listened to her music, but that was a no-no. Mr. Timmins wanted the staff to be available to help the customers, and that was hard if you were zoned out, headphones on. Plus, she was beginning to like the classic rock that quietly played over the P.A. system.

The first sighting was nothing unusual. It was a grocery store. All kinds of people shopped at the store. Tally was restocking, pushing a cart full of rejects, searching for the shelves where they belonged. She felt that she was being watched. She looked up from the organic tomato paste shelf and looked up and down the aisle. Nothing. There were a couple of people in the aisle, but they were doing their own thing, not paying attention to her. But the sensation persisted. When she was in the baby food aisle, it happened again. It was almost as if someone was staring at her. She could feel their eyes on the back of her head. She turned around, and there he was. Not that she was actually recognized him yet. Over the course of her employment, Tally had begun to recognize the regulars, and the man was not one.

He was at the end of the isle, comparing GMO-free organic carrots for toddlers to the peas, mango and buckwheat mixture for toddlers. For the rest of her shift, it seemed she saw him everywhere she went—comparing food brands, flipping through the magazines at the checkout, watching the live lobsters scurry around their tank, at the lottery ticket kiosk. That was the first day. After that, she saw him in the store a minimum of two or three times a week, sometimes four or five shifts in a row.. Always browsing, never making eye contact. The funny thing (and just to be clear, Tally didn’t actually find this funny at all) was that she never actually saw him buy anything. Who comes into a grocery store, and doesn’t buy something? Grocery store browsing was not a thing.

The sightings had been going on for about a month. She stopped going to the library as much. She actually considered quitting her job at the grocery store. She didn’t need a stalker, but she needed to a job so that she could save for university. Or a car. Or a gap year. Probably university.

So, she told no one. What if she was wrong? What if he was just a guy who happened to be everywhere she was? Weird, but possible, right? She figured that as long as he didn’t say anything to her, she’d be fine. Sure it was weird that he seemed to be everywhere she was, but it was a free country, and he could go anywhere he wanted as long as he didn’t trespass on private property—she’d learned that in law class. In fact, he never actually looked at her directly, ever, regardless of where she saw him.

But it had been a month, and he was still showing up everywhere. She considered what to do over and over. Should she tell someone? But who? Her parents? Tally was a little reluctant. She was the oldest of five, and there was a lot of mayhem with five kids. Especially Cody and Corey, the eight year-old twins—they were hellions and always pushing the limits. They sucked all her parents energy.

Her best friend, Bianca? Maybe. But she was wrapped up in the drama of their friend group, and loved nothing more than gossiping. Tally did not want to become fodder for the group. Nor did she want her friends whispering about her. So, probably not Bianca.

Xander her sorta-mostly boyfriend? Hard no. No one wanted to go out with the girl who had a stalker (maybe). At worst, he’d think she was crazy.

School counsellor? No! Why would she tell someone her biggest fear when they really didn’t know her. Mr. Timmins? She seriously did not think that her boss would really care about her stalker. His focus was on the store, not Tally’s maybe-stalker. And maybe he wouldn’t want an employee who brought trouble to his store. So, no.

As she was walking towards home after school when she saw him again. He was sitting on one of the curb-side benches, reading a newspaper. An actual newspaper. Tally didn’t even know newspapers were still a thing. He was right in front of her, and she was going to have to walk by him. Instead of just passing him, she stopped and looked at him. Really looked at him. He kinda looked like her dad, but then a lot of her friends’ dads looked the same. He was about her dad’s age—old, around forty-five. His hair was light brown and she could see grey strands glinting in the sun. It was kinda long for an old guy, she thought—long enough to pull it into a high pony-tail. She couldn’t see his face because he was turned away from her concentrating on his newspaper, but he had a gold earring. That was a bit cringy. She’d be mortified if her dad had one.

And that was it. Just a guy sitting on a bench on a nice spring day, reading a newspaper. He didn’t look like an axe murderer. She wasn’t sure what an actual ax murderer would actually look like, but he wasn’t carrying an axe, so ….

“Hey! Tally! Wait up!”

Tally turned around, and Bianca was rushing towards her. “Hey, B,” she said when her friend caught up with her.

“You are not going to believe … “ And she was off. When Tally turned back around towards the bench, the man was gone, only his newspaper sat there, fluttering in the breeze.

She turned back to Bianca. “Did you see that guy?” I pointed at the bench.

Bianca stopped mid-sentence, confused. “—What? No.” She shook her head and continued yakking about some school drama.

Tally tried to pay attention, but it was hard. She kept thinking about the man—it was like he’d just disappeared.

That’s when she thought that maybe, there really wasn’t any man. The thought hit her like a sledge hammer. Maybe she’d imagined him, or worse, maybe she hallucinating him.

That stopped her dead. When she got home she dove into an internet rabbit hole after asking Googling, “what mental disorders cause hallucinations?” The causes were vast—dementia (which she was pretty sure did not apply to her) all the way to schizoaffective disorder which was terrifying.

Finally, she decided to that she needed to talk to her parents—well, her mom first.

She went downstairs. Her mom walked into the kitchen carrying a couple of bags. Tally sat at the breakfast bar, helping her mom unpack the groceries.

“Here,” said her mom, passing her a jar of peanut butter. “Put this in the pantry, please.”

Tally did as asked. And she put the toilet paper in the bathroom, and the cans of tuna and salmon in the pantry—not by the peanut butter but by the canned goods (Tally had been helping unload groceries for a while so she knew where things went). She put the eggs, apples, cheese in the fridge. Hamburger in the freezer. When they were done, her mom folded up the bags and handed them to Tally to put back in the van for the next shopping trip. Tally dutifully walked out and put the bags in the back storage well.

When she walked back in, she looked at her mom, and said. “I think I’m hallucinating.”

Her mom was shocked. “Pardon?”

Tally repeated, “I think I’m hallucinating.”

Her mom stood stock still, and looked at her. “Why would you say that?”

Tally’s heart was beating in her chest. “Because I keep seeing this man everywhere. All the time. He’s everywhere I am—work, school, outside the house, the library, on the street.” She looked up at her mom, tears filling her eyes. “I think I’m losing my mind.” She blinked, and two tears rolled slowly down her cheeks.

Her mom said, “Just a minute,” jumped up and rushed from the room. Tally could hear her talking to her dad, and scooting the younger kids out back. Her dad marched in with her mom.

Her dad looked concerned. “What did the guy look like?” he asked. He sounded nervous but … determined? Resolute? Tally wasn’t sure, but it was not a tone she usually heard from her dad. Exasperated, annoyed, impatient—yes. But his steadfast voice was new. And it worried Tally.

So she described him—as best she could—the long hair, the earring, height, build, age.

Her parents looked at each other, then back at Tally.

“Talia, did he look familiar?” asked her dad.

Weird, but Tally thought about it. “Yeah, kinda” she said slowly.

“Like who, honey?” prodded her mom quietly.

“Well, when I saw him today on the—”

“Today?” barked her dad. “You saw him today?”

His voice scared Tally a bit—it was loud and demanding. Tally was confused. “Yeah. I see him all the time.”

Her parents looked at each other.

“How long?” asked her dad, looking more panicked than determined now.

Tally shrugged. “About a month,” she said, watching her parents’ faces tense up.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” asked her mom.

Tally shrugged again. “I don’t know. At first I just thought … I don’t know … maybe he was just a guy. He kinda looked like you,” she said looking at her dad.

Her mom’s eyes bulged, and her dad ran his fingers through his hair.

“Hey,” yelled Cody, barging into the kitchen. “There’s a guy outside. He says he’s Dad’s brother. He wants to talk to you.” He looked from his parents to his sister. “He’s on the front porch.” Then he turned around and ran back outside.

Her parents looked at each other, then her dad got up, walked out of the kitchen to the front door. Tally couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it was tense. There was some yelling. She heard her father mention something about calling the police, the other man—Dad’s brother?—yelled something back. There were a few more back and forths, then Tally heard the front door slam. Her Dad came back into the kitchen, and sat at the breakfast bar, beside her.

“Tally, there’s something we have to tell you …”