The Story of Her Holding an Orange (2 page)

“You ready to take it now?” she asked in her child-voice. I thought that her voice had been scary at the balcony, but hearing it in the dead of the night gave me an all-new wave of shivers.

As she spoke, her right hand snaked its way through the window. In it was the orange. 

Terrified by the increasing horror of this absurd situation, I decided to run. 

“Dad! Dad!” I screamed, running through the hallway and towards my parents’ room. 

By the time I got to the master bedroom, they were both already on their feet.

“What the fuck is going on?!” my dad demanded.

All I could muster through my shaking jaw was, “Rose… Window.”

While my dad went to the closet to get his pants and perhaps some sort of weapon, I ran back to my room. I wanted Rose to be there so bad. You know how, in those horror movies, the main character screams for help, and when the help finally comes, the monster is always gone? Well, when I made it back to the room, I was still able to see Rose. She was getting away, however. I could see her right next to our house, in our neighbor’s back yard that was equipped with one of those motion-activated lights. Rose set the sensor off, and the yard lit up just enough for me to watch her disappear behind the corner of a neighbor’s house. When my father ran into my room, she was gone. I wanted her to be there so bad. I wanted to tell them what was happening. Instead, all I got from my dad was an angry “you and your fucking imagination” as he left my room. Needless to say, I got exactly zero hours of sleep that night.

Nothing happened for the next two months or so. During the few days after the incident, I was incredibly tense and would be set off by even the smallest sound coming from outside my window. Rose did come visit my mom for their standard gossip evenings, but I would never be around. Fuck that. Tuesday and Thursday afternoons were reserved for Rose’s visits, and I would come up with different excuses not to be there.

Since I successfully avoided Rose and she never stalked me again, I started to forget about the incident. As with every other teenager in the world, I had an attention span of a butterfly, and there just wasn’t enough room in my mind for that woman.

TWO

She's Back

I was sitting in my room, browsing whatever website was popular at the time. I’d become pretty hungry, and as does every lazy child, I yelled for my mom to make me a sandwich. She didn’t answer. I realized that I wasn’t sure if she was even home, so I had to get my lazy ass up and make my own food. Our kitchen is connected to the living room but is set up in such a way that you can’t see the room unless you’re in the middle of the dining area.

As soon as I entered the kitchen, I froze. In the middle of the table sat an orange. Nothing else, just one solitary orange. Flashes of Rose’s pale face at my window came back, and I swear I could feel the air becoming colder around me. I stared motionless for a few seconds before snapping myself out of it.

It’s a piece of fruit in the kitchen, man, chill out, I thought, smirking at my own cowardice.

I started making my sandwich, but no matter how much I told myself it was just an orange on the table, the unsettled feeling in my stomach wouldn’t go away. Fuck it, I thought, I’ll put it away. I stepped into the kitchen, looked up - and saw Rose. 

“You will have to take it soon, you know,” she said, tilting her head to the left, smiling as widely as humanly possible. She looked exactly the same as that fucking night two months ago: long white dress of almost the same bright shade as her skin with dark black hair falling down her shoulders. Her lipstick looked to be an even brighter red than before, which only amplified the effect of her nearly blinding teeth. Once again, she spoke in a voice of a little girl. 

There she was, a woman who had abused my sanity months ago, standing in my living room, tilting her head, speaking in a voice of a child. And then - and fucking then - she put her hand in her purse and took out an orange. She pulled it out slowly, her motions resembling those more of a disturbed robot than an actual human.

“This is for you,” she said.

My mind was racing. I had no fucking clue what to do. And just as my defensive instincts were about to kick in, either to attack this crazy cunt or run away from her, my mom walked in. I know it didn’t really happen that way, but it seemed as if my mother brought the light back into the room with her. The whole horror of the situation diffused as fast as it began, at least for the moment. Rose quickly put the orange back into her purse, straightening her neck back into a normal position.

“Rose and I are going for a walk, ok?” my mom asked. I didn’t answer. As they left the room, Rose turned around and gave me another one of her creepy fucking smiles.

I waited for both of my parents to come home that night so I could tell them the truth. I realized that the burden of proof was solely on me, but I had to do it. When my mother and father finally came home, I sat down and started telling them the entire story. I told them about the balcony incident. I told them that Rose was really at the window that night and that I wasn’t imagining things. I said that she stood in the living room and harassed me while my mom was getting ready for the walk. I told them everything, but I could tell that they believed absolutely none of it. They listened to me, yes, but after I was finished, they said nothing. As soon as I asked what they thought was going on, my dad called my older brother to come in and yelled at him for making me watch horror movies. My mom got up and started making dinner. And just like that, my whole story was forgotten by everyone but me. And Rose.

About three months passed, and Rose hadn’t paid me another visit. I had trouble forgetting about her, though; she’d often come to visit my mom, and of course, she acted normal in front of my family. By that time, I had decided that Rose had mental issues and was most likely suffering from a multiple personality disorder or something similar. My theory was that, for some reason, I triggered one of those individuals inside her head. I avoided any conversation with her since the last thing in the world I wanted was to deal with a crazy child-mimicking lady offering me a fucking orange.

Four months after the last living room incident, my brother’s birthday came up. Every year, he’d organize a huge party at our house. We were good, trustworthy kids, so our parents would go away for the night, and my brother and I would celebrate it with his friends and no adults. The party started off really promising; there were about fifty people at our house and it wasn’t even 10pm. We were all having so much fun; the music was good, the food and drinks were plentiful, and the atmosphere was absolutely amazing. Until about midnight, when the doorbell rang.

When I saw her standing at the front door, I nearly dropped my drink. Luckily, she hadn’t noticed me yet in the crowd. I ran to my brother.

“Mijo!” I hissed, grabbing his arm, “Mijo, what the fuck is Rose doing here?”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, looking as surprised as I was. Then he looked over to the door and saw her. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Did Mom and Dad have her come to spy on us?” 

“I don’t think so… man, go tell her to fuck off. Please.”

My brother could see how unsettled I was. It was then that he probably realized I was telling the truth this whole time.

“Hold on, are you serious? She actually did stalk you?” Mijo asked, looking intrigued.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you people! That woman is batshit crazy, man.”

Mijo winked at me. “I got you,” he said and walked over to the door. Rose was just standing there, smiling and scoping the crowd. I watched them talking for a good five minutes, wondering why the conversation was taking so long. Then my brother moved to the side, letting Rose into the house. He came over to me, carrying a box.

“What the fuck are you doing, why’d you let her in?” I nearly yelled at him.

“Look, she said she was nearby and heard it was my birthday, so she brought me a gift, see?” Mijo said, opening the box he got from Rose. It was an mp3 player. “And, it’s exactly the one I wanted!”

“Dude,” I said while battling the temptation to knock the gift out of his hands, “did you forget what I just told you? She is fucking crazy; she’s here for me.”

“Look, I don’t know what is going on between you two, but I can’t kick Mom’s friend out of our house when she brought me a gift. You work it out with her. Besides, there are like 75 people here. You’re safe.” Mijo walked away into the crowd, and I stood there, surrounded by people, feeling lonelier than ever.

I spent most of the party sitting in the corner, looking out for Rose. I saw her here and there, like when she went to get a drink or when she talked to some of my brother’s friends. I suppose she quickly became the highlight of the party, and I could see why; she was a hot, mature lady who hung out with young people. Guys were all over her, and girls loved her. I fucking hated it. It was killing me that I was alone in my own house full of friends. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I walked outside. Sitting in the dark in my front yard, I half expected her to pop outside into the blackness and offer me an orange. Who knows, maybe I even wanted her to do it. That way, I could draw other people’s attention and then all 75 people could see how disturbed this woman was. 

Fortunately or unfortunately, depending how you look at it, she didn’t come. The party started winding down around 3am, and by 3:30, most people were gone. When I walked back into the house, the final group, including Rose, was getting ready to leave.

“Milos, I haven’t seen much of you tonight,” Rose said while putting her coat on. “Is everything ok with you?”

I didn’t answer. I just stood there, looking her straight in the eyes, almost as if I wanted to send her a message saying, “Fuck you, bitch, you’re not intimidating me.”

“Um, he’s been acting strange all night, don’t pay him any mind,” said my brother while helping Rose with her coat, “and thanks so much for the gift; it’s exactly the one I wanted.”

“Oh, you’re most welcome, Mijo,” she said. As she walked out of the house, she turned around, looked at me, and said, “And I’ll see you soon, Milos.” Her creepy fucking grin was the last thing I saw before she shut the door. 

“Did you see that?” I asked my brother.

“See what?”

“You didn’t think that was weird at all?” I asked, almost begging for some sort of confirmation that I wasn’t the one going crazy.

“Dude, you need to chill out with this whole Rose thing. She was awesome tonight. And she didn’t harass you, did she?”

I hung my head in defeat. “No,” I admitted.

“See? It’s all good. Now, let’s get some sleep; we gotta get up early and clean this place before Mom and Dad come back.”

I slowly walked to my room, feeling the frustration build inside me. I felt so helpless. Not even my own family would believe a word I said. I walked into my room and collapsed on the soft bed. I was so tired that I fell asleep immediately, without even taking my clothes off. At some point during the night, I got really cold, so I rolled under the blankets without really waking up. I was all set to go right back to sleep when I felt something cold and wet underneath me. 

“What the fuck…?” I said out loud. I jumped and flipped the light switch. 

In my bed was a crushed orange. 

Tears started pouring down my cheeks. At that moment, I realized that there was no escape for me. I had nowhere to run, and Rose’s persistence was so convincing that I had no doubt she’d eventually get what she wanted.

I stood looking at that crushed piece of fruit for a good ten minutes. I wanted to look through the window, but I was afraid of what I’d see. I walked over to my brother’s room.

“Mijo,” I said, shaking him. “Mijo, wake up. There’s an orange in my bed.”

“What?” he asked, sounding angry that I woke him up. “What’s happening?”

“Rose left an orange in my bed, man.”

“Go back to fucking bed. I swear, you and your fucking oranges,” said my brother as he turned around and went back to sleep. 

That was when I knew that this would be a journey that I’d have to take alone. Rose was far too good to give away her monstrous nature in front of others. What bothered me the most was that she harassed me in the subtlest of ways. On the balcony, she acted crazy right until my mom walked in, then switched back to normal. She stood at my bedroom window and got away right before my dad was able to spot her. In the living room, she was a child-puppet who turned into a normal adult only in my mother’s presence. And finally, she was the center of my brother’s party but had managed to leave a message strong enough to make me cry, yet not big enough to make my brother think anything strange was happening. She always danced around the edge of being discovered but was too good (or experienced) to actually reveal her true self. And that is what was driving me insane.

THREE

The Final Incident and Farewell Rose

One full year had passed since the first time Rose had offered me the orange. While I was always on the lookout for her to show up at my window, I had other things on my mind. Since I was making a name for myself in the basketball world, many American colleges had heard of me and started the recruiting process. Wanting the degree, but also secretly wanting to get away from the discomfort of always having to have my guard up, I decided to head to the U.S. After much debating, I chose Penn State University as my school. I had about four weeks to get ready for my American adventure, so I headed over to a basketball camp in a city some 40 miles away from home. 

Training and mental preparation went according to plan. Multiple workouts a day and studying for the SAT in my hotel room was my routine for weeks. Three days before the end of the camp, my roommate was injured in practice and his parents came and took him home, so I had a whole room to myself. I didn’t mind this at all since I had to study and I enjoyed peace and quiet.