Watching. Waiting

“I TOLD YOU to do that before you left for school YESTERDAY! It’s everyday with you. You don’t listen. What’s wrong with you?” My father, his usual words of encouragement that only a loving man of his age could give. “Get your clothes out that dryer.”

I could use the last bit of energy I have after this long, tiring day and tell him, “Oh father, those clothes have been taken care of. Those jeans, shirts, and tank tops, are mine but from this morning.” As simple of an explanation that would be, to Christian Sims that would be a challenge. A disobedient son versus a father that knows no wrong.

With just enough annoyance and attitude, strictly just to irritate him some more, I walk over to the dryer, keeping the correct pace to make his blood boil and remove the clothes from the dryer. He didn’t say anything, but the burning glare to the back of my head made the point.

“I’m headed to my room.” I say to him, receiving the expected silence and continued glare.

It’s expected being in a house of constant berating and lack of affection, there’s no way I wasn’t the happiest kid on this side of Marietta, Georgia. You’d be surprised, unfortunately. No specific amounts of family therapy, added any amount of peace of mind or relaxation to the lonely loveless vessel others may call “home.” Ask me how many times my father followed the instructions of the family therapist, who just knew in her poor pretentious mind telling my father, “You should sit with your son. Enter his space and let him know you want to be a part of his life and that you care about him and you’re not just there to berate him,” would hold any weight. She even thought this move to Georgia would bring a “new aura” to our lives.

Only person that couldn’t stand being in that house more than me was my mother. Mother distancing herself for days at a time as if not obvious that the “business trip” amounts grew with the same pace as the hatred flooding the “home.” It was going on day four. Me and her held no problems between each other. Mainly due to the fact the only time she referenced me was to shame my father for his mistreatment of me that she herself never even cared to stop. Felt like she took every moment to fight with that man. She was his greatest opponent and I was just her weapon.

If it isn’t abundantly clear by now…I was lonely…and unloved.

My room was nothing special. Nothing about life really motivated me. No posters. No fancy bedsheets. Just a plain old mattress resting in the right corner of my room. Tv right across from it with a closet to my left. It was a room…I slept in it.

Only thing close to impressive was the giant window my bed sat next to that I used to gaze out of and forget where I was. The woods and their mysterious beauty had a draw that was impossible to resist. The tree colors dim while still holding their splendor as the sun falls. The darker outside the easier to forget.

Loneliness is a feeling you can easily get used to. Just spend some time wallowing in hopelessness and self pity and there you have it. By day three your heart would’ve begun breaking. The light in your eyes would have begun to fizzle and all the good memories of friends and family would begin to migrate to the back of your mind til they became unreachable in your darkest hour when you needed them most.

Then there’s a bright flash of light. It eliminates just a taste of that dark cloud. Almost letting peace peek through. No, I don’t mean “hope.” We gave up on that years ago. I mean a literal flash of light. I just turn to the corner of my room between the closet and my door where it resides.

Now this part I don’t know if anyone else who is going through loneliness experiences. Well at least nobody I ever talked to, but I don’t go out much. Maybe it’s a southern thing. I’d only been in Georgia for 5 years at this time and I’d been experiencing it for a year now. Anyways I’m curious, did anyone else get a tall man that watched you from the darkest corner of your room?

He had no name as far as I knew. Just a face. A pale face so white it even showed through the darkness of my room. A face that held beady brown eyes and a chapped lip smirk.

He made his first appearance after a much more intense night of degrading and avoidance from my father and mother. It left me in my room all weekend. There I was on my bed staring at the ceiling. My sixteen year old heart shattered. If the light switch powering my existence was in front of me at that very moment I was ready to give it a flick in the other direction. Day after day sinking deeper into a mental cavern of nothingness. Just before I reached the bottom, there he was. For a second I thought someone had broken in, but from where? I’d been in my room all day since last night. Looking back on it I’m not sure why I never told my parents. Maybe fear of interrupting them and the anger being turned towards me. Maybe it became clear over months that only I was able to see him.

As time went on the fear and disturbance melted into a weird sort of comfort. Knowing even when I felt alone I never really was. He never tried to harm me. Just watched me. Like some sort of disturbing, hard to look at, angel. A friend even. With no words we had an understanding. He was the last bit of comfort I had. On my worst days he would check on me. I know that’s a lot of weight to put on a random figure standing in your room, but I needed a little peace of mind.

I only once ever tried talking to him. We had been eight months into our encounters. That day I had received news I failed a math class and was told I’d have to retake it over the summer. School was my time to get away from my family. You would think the separation would be good news to them. They were furious. Hitting, screaming, utter disappointment, both mainly from my father.

Sitting in my room as my wounds, mentally and physically, healed I found myself once again at the mercy of my own emotions. Waiting for a light switch. “Please.” I said to the pale face in the corner. “If you’re here to do something then do it. Standing there…just watching isn’t doing much.” Silent. Just watching. “I know you hear me.” I grew irritated. I grabbed the pillow from my bed ready to throw it when my eyes met his. They became intense. Almost looking through me. I froze. His lips that were a smirk a moment before had now shifted straight.

A sound resembling that of a growl from a lion filled my head. “Watching.” The sound echoed in my skull. “Waiting.”

Waiting. For what? Would’ve asked, but my body was stiff and my jaw felt wired shut. What hasn’t happened yet? I had been cussed at. I had been made to feel like I was wasting space. I was just hit. What was he waiting for?

Since that moment I never questioned him again. Only effect it had on me was it decreased the pedestal I put him on. He wasn’t much of a protector. He became just the watcher that made me feel like I wasn’t all that alone.

We were now on year one month one. Those clothes weren’t getting folded. I didn’t care that much. The moon had my attention. It rested over the woods outside my window with grace and beauty that I had never seen before. It shined brighter. I shifted my body to face the pale figure back to his straight face. It felt special.

A booming stomp followed by another…and another…and another. “Come clean this table off!” My father’s voice filled the remainder of the hallway.

I position myself on the side of the bed about to make my way to the door. I inhale and exhale deeply. My eyes return to the pale face. In the silence exchanged between us I just knew the waiting was about to be over.

“I know you hear me!” I did of course, but I didn’t move.

My legs make their way back up to my bed while his makes their way up the stairs sounding as if he was gonna go through them.

Whatever was coming, I was ready.

The door flew open and my room light turned on. He walks to where I am on the bed. The therapist would be happy to know he at least embraced the whole “getting in my space” part seriously.

My corner was now empty. I switched my head to the three remaining corners. They stood just as empty as the other three. “Why are you acting like you don’t hear me talking to you? Get up and go clean that table.” I just look at him. “Boy did….” He gets cut off by a loud noise. We both look around the room til we hear the loud bang again. Our eyes land on the closet door.

Now my father is a big guy. He’s lived his life never showing clear fear. His ego wouldn’t allow him to. Especially not in this moment in front of me. His rage was already up, so I doubt there was even space for fear in his head.

He makes his way to the closet door. He grabbed the door handle, twists it and swings the door open. I remember the doorknob leaving a dent in the wall. He lunges at the wall of clothes and totes. Grabbing and swinging at coats and hangers. After destroying my closet he turned around, heavily breathing. “Clean this mess up and take your behind downstairs and clean that table off like I told you to.”

At that moment I felt like all the theatrics were for nothing. The one moment I get real change coming, just nothing. Until the lights started flickering. The ceiling fan in my room was spinning faster and faster. One of the light bulbs, sending light to the open closet, in the fan exploded pushing my father deeper into my closet. I looked down at him as he fell. He held a look of fear on his face. First time I’d seen it. Across his chest a pale hand sat. I followed that hand to a pale arm that trailed to a pale boney body. The pale face looking at me then down into the eyes of my now shaking father.

I’d only seen that pale face make two expressions. A comforting yet almost unsettling smirk and an intense body chilling straight face. This new one is the one that still stays with me on a different level. Like an anaconda his jaw extended and his eyes spread. As if he was sucking all the air out of the room. His skin developed a blue color that came as veins. I could see my father’s jaw begin to open as if to release a scream. One I wouldn’t hear because just as it would be released the door slammed shut and silence filled the air.

For minutes I sat there remaining in shock and disbelief. “Did I just watch my father die?” The thought ran around my head. As I sat there I thought of my mother and how I could even explain this to her.I don’t know when she was coming back. I was alone. He didn’t even return to his corner yet. “This couldn’t be what he was waiting for.” I never wanted to see that thing again honestly. Once again, I was lonely.

A creaking sound hit my ear. I shoot my eyes back to the closet door. The doorknob made a slow turn that my gut followed. It creaked open. I felt me breathing hop back on track when I saw my father standing there looking back at me. There he stood unphased. Like what happened moments ago didn’t take place.

“Dad?” He just looked at me. His eyes were blank. “Dad!” I could see the fire enter his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about downstairs, I'll take care of it. Then I’ll come get this closet for you.” His voice was a level of calm I never heard before. He never offered to clean a mess he even made, he definitely wasn’t gonna offer to clean one he didn't. He started making his way to the bedroom door.

“Dad,” he turned to me. “What happened?” He started making his way to my bed and sat next to me.

From his lips came words never thought I’d hear from him. Not even my mom got these words as far as I knew, “I’m sorry.” The confusion must’ve been apparent on my face cause he began to chuckle. “I’m sorry for the way I talked to you and treated you. You never deserved that. I was projecting my own insecurities and the things I felt about myself. I should’ve known better and I promise to do better. You ain’t even have to wait for it. The change starts now.” I was done questioning it. I was finally getting the words I had been waiting for years to hear from this mean man. Whatever happened in that closet made the change that was needed for me to at least have a chance at happiness. “Thanks dad.”

He gave me a hug and went back to making his way downstairs. He stopped at my door frame. “If you wanna watch a movie I’ll be downstairs waiting for you.”

As I was about to answer his question I noticed something. Something in the way he held his mouth. It now had a familiar smirk. Even his eyes sat in a way that held familiarity. “Yeah. I’ll be down in a minute.” With a smile he made his way downstairs.

Since then my father has kept his promise. Even with my mother he started appreciating her more. He never let a single word that would make me feel bad in any way leave his lips. My confidence grew as my loneliness shrank. I finally felt loved and supported.

That was two years ago. I'm now in college and visiting my parents. Believe it not, this story slipped away from me as time went on. My pale faced angel that sat in the corner is gone now. If I had to say, the only thing that still needed an adjustment for things to be perfect would be my mother. Even now when my father has become borderline perfect she attempts to start fights. When he doesn’t entertain them she just keeps trying. I’m assuming that’s why I have a new angel waiting behind the tree in front of our backyard. Something tells me if I keep waiting, it’ll sort itself out.