I was pretty sure I packed my deodorant for our Thanksgiving trip but I couldn't find it. I didn't find it in the obvious place, which was my toiletries bag. It wasn't packed among my clothes, nor in the bag in which I put my books and computer, nor in the bag with the bottles of booze, nor among my ski gear, nor with the extra towels and sheets I brought even though the house we rented had towels and sheets. And it certainly wasn't in the bag of recycling that I'd for some reason put in the back of the car instead of leaving in the garage.
After Thanksgiving I'd be going to the condo, and I remembered bringing a stick of deodorant there, so going a few days without during Thanksgiving didn't seem like much of a big deal. I figured when I got back home, I'd find the other stick sitting on the counter. I must have forgotten it.
Except when I got back home after that week at the condo, it wasn't there. I looked on the counter in the bathroom and in the drawer below the counter and in the cabinet below the sink and it wasn't in any of those places. "What the hell?" I said.
And then it hit me: it had to be my stalker. Of course she's bewitched with my scent. Of course she is.
I sighed, rolled my eyes, and went to the closet where I keep the extras.
She's getting trickier, though. A few days later, when I got back to the condo, I found the missing stick of deodorant in my toiletries bag, in a pocket that I never use. The only explanation--I repeat, the only explanation--is that she drove up to the condo, broke in, and stashed it there, knowing the effect it would have on my mind.
I wonder: next time I go to the apartment, the yacht, or the beach cabana, will I find my deodorant sticks missing from each as well? None of those places is even in this state. Shit, I'd have to call the captain on the sat-phone to be sure, but I don't think the yacht is even in the this country.
I guess I'll know next time I visit those places. She's a tricky one, my stalker. Not always the most subtle. But quite dedicated.