After a series of coincidences I’d become aware of Something watching me. Worst of all, it seemed that I could never escape, for it followed. Everyday, for a few months, I was being bombarded by the numbers and repeating phrases. But now I feared that something might actually be wrong, lately it seemed to be answering me directly.
“Fixation!” They’d say online.
My mom had already become suspicious of me asking her on more than a couple occasions if there were any family that, “weren’t right.”
He scared me. I did not want to end up like him. I don’t ever want to see him again, not after that last time I’d caught those eyes. His fits were random and constant. I hated him. I hated everything about him. The ugly red shirt he always wore, the outburst of curses, threats and violence.
Why did it always get worse at night? Why did my bedroom windows have to face his? I’d seen him, countless times in that unpainted grey concrete house. Often times with his head tilted back, talking, laughing, gesturing, arguing and sometimes swinging his fists, a bat, sometimes chairs at Nothing. I swore everything in their house had to have been broken by the time he’d ended that nights’ rampage. The next morning’s gossip would always start with, “Yea, He tripped out again last night… beat his father up again… broke his right arm this time….”
It was just my luck a few days later that I’d just opened the flimsy rusted iron gates to go ride my red BMX bicycle when I spotted Him along with his father had been walking home. The father’s cast caught my eye and before I knew it, a flash of red, then a pair of angry black eyes locked with mine. I’m not really sure how he moved so fast, but his black eyes held me ensnared as my hands tightened on the handle of my bike. I barely registered the yells and pleas of the small old man trying his best to physically restrain Him as he closed the distance between us.
“It fucking sees you too bitch!” He bellowed over and over. Spit flew in all directions as he pointed his index fingers only a few inches away from my face as my six-year-old body still refused to move. Just then hands swiftly grabbed me from behind, lifting me off the ground and back into the back yard. It was Grandma, she put me down under the guava tree and angrily marched back to the gate.
I watched on as two men from the neighborhood rushed over to help restrain the accursed man. Grandma was a woman on a mission, but her presence never registered to him until she screamed “….deliver thee from the snare of the fowler…” Only then did his eyes leave me. Only then did he stop and seem to almost quietly recede into himself and was then promptly dragged away as his sorry father, still with a firm grip, wept.
Grandma picked up my bike, walked it over to me under the tree and stooped to my level.
“The sun will be setting soon, we have to get ready for the Sabbath. Go and get cleaned up. The bread just finished, I’ll put some jam on yours,” she said warmly. With a nickname like ‘Pepper’, no-one could match her fire.
Weeks went by and things were quiet, voices whispered but he remained out of sight. One of the neighbors, a friend of Grandma’s, fell ill. We visited her at the Seaside Hospital over the course of a few days. I didn’t really mind the hospital, everyone was nice and the pretty nurses would always compliment my dresses and would give me a piece of candy before we left.
What I didn’t like was the tall, shabby building, with its chipped and peeling, pale yellow paint and its long faded red roof that seemed to glare at me from the far end of the lot. Something about it made me feel increasingly strange every time I looked at it, but I could never look away nor had I spotted anyone coming in or out of the building. What I did notice was that it sat much further away from any of the other structures on the lot and no matter how bright the sun’s rays, darkness was the only thing shown through the windows.
On the last day that we visited the hospital, Grandma had baked a few pastries for our neighbor, who had decided that she would continue her recovery at the home of her newly married daughter and son-in-law a few towns over. Due to Grandma’s baking, we arrived at the hospital much later than our prior visits so I knew this visit would be quick, as grandma wasn’t fond of driving at night. As we wrapped up our visit, in pure excitement, I ran ahead to the nurse's station to be gifted my last sweet and to bid farewell to the nurses. As I excitedly unwrapped my candy near the open exit door, one of the nurses called out to Grandma. They chatted, like old friends catching up and I suddenly felt a warm breeze on my neck. Turning to look out the exit, I see that the sun was almost set and the silhouette of the shabby building intrigued me under the lowlight. Stepping through the exit, I wondered when they would repair the old building and repaint it to match the blue and white of the others. I breathed in the sweet rank salty air, one of my favorite smells and continue to stare at the building while finishing up my candy.
“Trudie!” A voice whispered quickly as I felt a big gust of wind run past me. Startled, I jumped back and turned my head and looked behind me. There was no one there but that’s when I noticed how dark it was and that I’d ventured rather far from the hospital’s exit. In disbelief I was just about to run back to the hospital, sure I’d get a scolding from Grandma for wandering off, when I felt a heavy hand grip my shoulder.
“It sees you too!” His voice accused.
I was quickly turned around and came face to face with Him. Bright yellow light engulfed his towering lanky frame. His hair unkept, wide bloodshot black eyes, a strong musk, white clothing. He smiled slowly and got down to my level, never taking his eyes off of mine he thrusted something hairy into my arms. I heard a faint sound coming from whatever it was and before anything could register, He stood back up and regarded me strangely for a second before taking off running back into the distance from where he’d emerged. To my shock, the old derelict building he was running towards was lit as brightly as the sun; not only did light bore through the windows and the wide-open front doors, it seemed to be bursting through every crease and crevice.
“Trudie!” Grandma’s scream pierced my ears. I turned around to see her and one of the nurses running towards me, an out of shape security guard trailing a few feet behind them.
“Was that him?”
I nodded, unable to find my voice.
“Did he hurt you?” Grandma’s hand explored my face and as her worried eyes examined me before landing on what was in my hands. In all of this I’d forgotten,
“He gave me this.” I managed. With outstretched hands I opened my palms to reveal a small black kitten, no older than a few weeks, its chest and belly moving up and down rapidly. Breathing heavily, tears came to my eyes while looking to Grandma for reassurance, but instead she looked at me perplexed, studying my face before turning slowly to look at the nurse. They both exchanged uneasy looks and the nurse quickly fished out a necklace baring a cross and started muttering a prayer.
Grandma looked at her, looked at her cross and stated, “You saw that!”
“But he died!” The nurses’ voice cracking a little on the last word.
The security guard spoke up, “That building doesn’t have electricity…”
By now tears blinded my vision, words were being said but I could not understand any of it when suddenly the kitten still in my outstretched hands started to mewl. In a flash Grandma grabbed the kitten and thrusted it into the hands of the security guard, picked me up and began running towards the parking lot.
She sped out of there without looking back, I cried the whole way home. I’d later learn that a few days after the incident outside of our house, He along with his father and a few other people had died in a boat accident, their bodies were never recovered. A small seaside funeral was held for them.
Only a few people from the town had attended.
As I sat down that tiresome Sunday evening on the R train, I thought about the long shift I’d just worked. I couldn’t wait to get home, hopefully I’d be able to sleep through the night this time, especially since this was my fourth consecutive twelve-hour shift at the hospital. As if the shifts weren’t long enough, my commute added nearly three and a half hours to my day. Two buses, three trains, and the ferry to Staten Island. I couldn’t wait to find a new job and as I sat there stewing in my own exhaustion I checked the time; 10:27 pm stared back at me.
“Enough!”
“Ok, I think you are talking to me. Are you talking to me?” I asked out loud. I look around, a few unconcerned people sat scattered in the train car. None were near me. Sighing, I rested the back of my head against the wall. “If you are talking to me, say blue burgers.” That will settle it, I smiled as I closed my eyes and drifted for a while.
Sometime later I was awakened by someone coughing next to me. As I opened my eyes, I quickly turn my head away in an effort to not breathe in their germs. The train has a lot more people now and it’s almost at the last stop. Now's a good time to get up as any, so I do. I readjust my scrubs and my crossbody bag as I stand and walk over to the closest exit. I briefly eye myself in the glass door, taking in my appearance as the automated train announcement declares that we’re at the last stop, as the train pulled into Forest Hills - 71st Avenue. As it came to a complete stop a young couple walked up behind me as I waited for the doors to open.
“Look at this!” The guy exclaimed.
“Are those blue burgers?” The surprised girl asked.
“Yes, blue burgers!”
I saw my reflection as my eyes threatened to pop out of my head, my mouth slightly opened in shock, my heartbeat quickened. What the fuck? Grandma is long gone, who will save me now? Something inside of me was tickled, I began to laugh, louder and louder as tears came to my eyes just as the train door opened.
Trudie
