I thanked the taxi driver, closed the car door and went towards my house, through the garden to my back door. Right in front of my back door there was a basket. I looked at it skeptical before I took it with me into the kitchen. Before I took a closer look at it I said hi to Balu who had waited for me patiently.
There was a note on the basket “Kim said you always ordered this salad and for your sweet tooth some chocolate”.
There was no name on it, but I knew the handwriting. The basket was from Scott. I smiled, took the salad out and sat down in the living room in front of the window. I was looking at the ocean. There were only a few surfers out and I was sure that he wasn`t one of them. After a little while I could see him. I saw him sitting on his board, a bit away from the other surfers and he stared at the ocean. The sky was red and the sunset was mirroring itself in the water. It was such a beautiful view. I think I am starting to understand what people fascinated about the ocean. It was endless. He slowly made his way back to the beach, or better said towards me. As many other times these past days I regret my decision on not seeing him. When I made that decision that I wouldn`t fit into his life, that I wouldn`t be good enough. He looked so unbelievable confident and secure. I wasn`t both right now. I didn`t even know who I am, what my purpose on earth is, why I am still here.
I saw him leaving the beach and thought about going over to him and thanking him for the basket. But then I thought about the decision I had made and throw my thoughts away.
By the time I took Balu for our last walk of the day it was already midnight. The sky was clear and full of stars. I could have stayed outside all night, but I decided to go back home. Before I went to bed I took a piece of the chocolate. This was the first night that I was sleeping good again.
The next days and weeks were as usual, except of the Tuesdays. Tuesdays were therapy days and even if Doctor Morrison thought that the therapy was helping me, because I looked as if I was sleeping more and had gained back some pounds, I knew that it wasn`t helping. Doctor Decker had asked me several times why I was so scared of remembering the accident. Why it scared me to talk about my childhood, but I stayed silent. I wasn`t scared, I simply couldn`t remember and there wasn`t anything to say about my childhood. And I really didn`t know what my childhood had to do with the actual problem.
Except of the therapy I liked my Tuesdays. Because every Tuesday after therapy I found a little surprise in front of my back door. These surprises came from Scott, at least I thought it was his handwriting on the notes, but none of them were signed so I couldn`t tell for sure. After the bucket with salad and chocolate I got a bucket with a book, a DVD and a box of pralines. The Tuesday after that one a bottle of wine and a cheese plate. I was excited every single time but I had a bad conscious as well, because I never thanked him. But I calmed myself down by telling myself that every normal woman would think, after meeting him just once, that he was a stalker.