We Are Always Watching

by Hunter Shea

  They were scared.

  And he knew exactly who they were scared of.

  What had the Guardians done?

  Did they attack Dad? Mom was very insistent about not being left behind.

  West was very glad she had.

  ***

  The hospital was actually a medical center, a small box of a building that had been refurbished so recently, you could smell the fresh coat of sterile white paint everywhere. West was expecting something far more… rednecky.

  It showed that he still had a lot to learn about this area. He couldn’t judge all of Pennsylvania by Grandpa Abraham’s crumbling old farm.

  Just look at Faith’s place.

  Thinking of Faith tied his stomach up in knots.

  “I’ve got a broken nose for you, Brenda,” Grandpa Abraham said to the woman at the admitting desk.

  The woman sat upright when she saw the bloody towel. Her mousy blond hair was wound up in a tight bun, the features of her face sharp and severe, looking every bit the part of the angry librarian. Her face softened when she looked to his grandfather.

  “You been getting into fights?” she said playfully.

  “This here’s my son,” Grandpa Abraham said, leaning an arm on her desk. “He had an accident.”

  “I’ll bump him right up for you,” she said softly so no one else in the waiting room could hear. West was surprised by the connection she shared with his grandfather. He could tell she really liked him. Not in a romantic way. More in the way a person would act in the presence of a close acquaintance who’d been nothing but kind.

  Was there another side to Grandpa Abraham? West wondered how things would be if they could keep Brenda around the house.

  After his mother answered a bunch of questions and handed her insurance card over, a nurse took his father right in. His mother stayed at his side, holding him by his elbow. Grandpa Abraham nodded toward a stack of magazines.

  “Have at it,” he said. “A reading junkie like you, this should be hog heaven.”

  West shuffled the magazines. They were either women’s or sports mags. He had no interest in either.

  He plucked an Entertainment Weekly from the pile. There was an article about the new slate of superhero movies for next year. He was halfway through the second paragraph when his grandfather said, “They did a nice job with the place. My money paid for a good part of it, I can tell you that. Hell, this visit should be free, like a buy back at a bar.”

  West looked over at him.

  “What’s a buy back?”

  “That’s a bartender’s way of saying ‘thanks for all the tips, you rummy.’ For every few drinks you buy, they give you one on the house. It’s a lost art. By the time you’re legal, it’ll be gone. They’ll charge you triple for crap beer and you’ll be none the wiser.”

  He folded his arms across his chest. He had to slump down in his seat a bit so his feet were flat on the floor.

  West said, “What happened to Dad?”

  An eyebrow went up. “I told you. He fell. You must see it all the time, the way he stumbles around the house.”

  A flare-up of anger pulsed at the hinges of West’s jaw.

  “That’s not cool, the way you make fun of him all the time. He’s your son. He can’t help what happened to him.”

  Whatever daggers West was throwing at the old man bounced off harmlessly. “There are some things you can’t help, and some you can. It’s what you do with the shit life deals you that matters. How you ended up in the shitter is out of your hands.”

  Thanks for the tough guy philosophy, West thought, simmering. He’s only doing that to throw you off. He still didn’t answer your question. Not honestly.

  “How did he fall?”

  Now the other eyebrow went up. Two bushy, gray caterpillars inching toward his hairline.

  “How the hell should I know? I was outside when it happened. Ask him yourself later.”

  He said that last line as if it were a dare.

  “Was it something to do with the Guardians?”

  Grandpa Abraham visibly stiffened. He looked away from West. “You’ve got an overactive imagination.”

  “Mom and Dad will tell me anyway.”

  His grandfather got up from his chair and walked away. “Don’t be so sure,” he said as he left the waiting room.

  West looked around the room. There were a few middle-aged couples, a guy who looked like a biker holding his elbow in the cup of his hand, and a mother with two little kids enchanted by whatever was on her phone. The TV was tuned to the local news channel.

  “Asshole,” he muttered, dropping the magazine onto the seat next to him.

  An hour and a repeat of the news later, his mother and father came out of the single door that led to the treatment area. His father’s nose was criss-crossed with bandages, the flesh under his eyes a deep, angry purple. Wads of bloody cotton were stuffed in each nostril.

  “You were supposed to wait for a chair,” someone called out from the treatment room.

  “I’ll be fine,” his father said without turning around. He looked determined to get out.

  “You look like half a mummy,” West said.

  “That’s funny, because they gave me nine tana leaves to fix my nose.” He draped an arm over West’s shoulder. “Where’s your grandfather?”

  “I don’t know. He walked away a while ago.”

  “He must be grabbing a bite to eat,” his mother said. “I think I saw a sign for vending machines. I’ll go check. You both have a seat for a sec.”

  West scrutinized the bandaging. “Does it hurt?”

  “They gave me a shot of something, so it feels fine for now. They also gave me this.” He reached into a plastic drawstring bag that his mother had carried out. He showed West a clear plastic mask. “I have to wear it at night, especially, to make sure I don’t do any more damage.”

  “That’s like those guards basketball players wear.”

  “Yep. They get their noses broken all the time. Too many long arms and flying elbows.”

  A harried looking woman with deep, dark bags under her eyes came in with an older woman, presumably her mother. They went to the admitting station. West thought he heard one of them mention chest pains. Two nurses came right out, ushering them inside.

  “How did you fall, Dad? Was it something to do with the Guardians? You and Mom seemed pretty freaked out.”

  He wanted… no, needed to ask it now, just to prove Grandpa Abraham wrong.

  His father patted his knee. “It was just me being clumsy. Something like this was bound to happen sooner or later.”

  West’s heart sank.

  “But Mom looked like she was crying.”

  His father’s face was unreadable under all the gauze and tape.

  “She didn’t look that way to me. I think she was just worried I’d done something worse to myself.”

  His mother came back with Grandpa Abraham in tow.

  “Perfect timing. He was just walking in when I turned the corner.”

  The old man smelled like beer. West remembered seeing a tavern a block away from the medical center.

  “Now your face has some character,” Grandpa Abraham said. No one laughed or cracked a smile. Even his grandfather seemed to regret the flippant remark.

  West’s mother helped his father to his feet. “Come on, let’s get you home and in bed.”

  West stayed several feet behind the adults on the walk to the truck.

  They’re all hiding something.

  It made him angry.

  And a little scared.

  ***

  Debi’s father-in-law dropped them off and headed for the Post.

  He’s probably getting soused right now with his vet buddies, laughing about his clumsy son, cheating at poker.

  The painkiller they’d given Matt at the medical center had him snoring like a band saw within moments of getting home. It sounded painful, like a metal spatula being scraped over pebbled cement.

&
nbsp; “He’s gonna have a real bad sore throat when he wakes up,” West said. They were in the living room, watching a ghost hunting show. West loved anything filmed with a lot of night vision that involved people trying to scare up some monster or apparition. She was surprised he wanted to watch it, considering their current situation.

  But, whatever gave him comfort was fine with her.

  “I think I’m going to sleep out here… with ear muffs on,” she said. They each had a bowl of Italian wedding soup on their laps, an ice cube floating in the center to cool it down enough for them to dig in. Soup in the summer wasn’t her preferred choice, but it was quick and they were starving.

  “I bet the couch has bed bugs,” West said, eyes glued to the people on TV. They were in the basement of an abandoned factory, calling out to the restless spirit of a worker who had accidentally fallen into a vat of acid eighty years ago.

  “Gee, thanks for putting that in my head. I guess I’ll bunk with you then.”

  He flashed a brief, crooked smile, slurping soup from the oversized spoon she’d found in the utensil drawer. “Good luck. That bed can barely support me.”

  Through everything, Debi hadn’t forgotten about the message on the bathroom mirror.

  WE ARE ALWAYS WATCHING.

  She’d locked all of the doors and windows, save the one at their backs. The air inside was stifling. No matter. There was no way she was leaving anything to chance. She’d turned on an old table fan but it only spread the tacky warmth around.

  Debi could call the police, but West had been through enough. He seemed on edge, drawn into himself. Normally, he was a human question machine. She and Matt used to refer to him as Lil’ Clark Kent. He’d been unnaturally quiet since they’d gotten back.

  What must he be thinking? she wondered. It can’t be good. When kids are left to fill in the blanks, they usually come up with the worst possible scenario.

  But if he did this time, would he be right?

  No matter, she and Matt had decided not to tell him what had happened earlier. He was already exposed to too much. At some point, they had to be parents, real parents, and protect him.

  Debi couldn’t help but feel as if they were being watched right now, despite sitting in a room with the curtains drawn, whatever breeze there was barely moving the shade.

  WE ARE ALWAYS WATCHING.

  The four words made her shiver, despite the sickly heat of the room and hot soup in her belly.

  They needed to get out of this place.

  What if they were attacked? Who would hear them cry for help out here amidst the whispering cattails?

  It always came down to money. Sure, they could pick up and get in the car this instant, but their freedom would be short-lived. The money would run out before they knew it and they’d be forced to come crawling back. She missed her parents so much right now. They would have taken them in with open hearts and arms. Things would have been so much better. She and West would have been happy. So happy, they might have even turned Matt’s funk around.

  But they’d been gone almost seven years now, their dream trip to St. Thomas spiraling into a nightmare when a category five hurricane tore the island apart. Over fifty people had died that day, Debi’s parents among the victims.

  For the first time in a long while, thinking of them filled her with an urgent need to cry.

  She willed her tears to stay put.

  Think of West and what you can do to make this better. Mom and Dad aren’t going to be able to help you.

  I should take him to the city with me next week. There’s always a free office, especially during the summer with people taking vacation.

  Would he go? He wasn’t a little kid anymore, fascinated by trips to mom and dad’s workplace. She didn’t want to use fear to get him to go with her. Then he’d be terrified coming back each night.

  What kind of mother would leave her son behind in a house guarded over by maniacs who could come and go as they pleased?

  One thing I’m sure of, it wasn’t Abraham this time. No wonder Matt left and never looked back.

  Debi still seethed over Matt’s intentional omission of the Guardians. Even if he thought they were no longer in the picture, he should have told her about the house’s past. Matt’s duty as her husband was to be honest with her.

  Thwack!

  West nearly levitated off the couch, soup sloshing over the bowl’s rim. “What was that?”

  Debi’s heart rocketed up her throat.

  The noise came from the open window behind them.

  Slamming her soup bowl on the coffee table, she leapt off the couch, hands balled into fists.

  A black and white cat pawed at the screen. It was a big alley cat, probably pushing twenty pounds. It was so strong; it had pushed the screen off the track.

  It took her a minute to catch her breath.

  “I’m losing it,” she said, forcing a laugh. “Was I just about to punch a cat?”

  West looked to be having a tough time settling down as well.

  “If you did, I bet Grandpa Abraham would give you a reward.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The doorbell rang for the first time since they’d moved in. Matt had just taken off his face guard and made the bed. He’d slept late, thanks to the painkillers. It was the best night’s sleep he’d had in as long as he could remember.

  See, there is a silver lining in a broken nose.

  Debi had left for work hours ago. The house was silent, save for the ringing of the bell. God knows where his father was. West was probably outside reading.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming,” Matt said. Before he knew it, he’d made it to the front door without his cane. He really was feeling good.

  When he opened the door, he thought he might need his cane to stay on his pegs.

  “Oh man, you look like you head butted a wall.”

  The heavily bearded man looked at him as if he could feel the pain himself.

  Matt said, “Better that than looking like a Mennonite.”

  “Beards are in now, buddy. It’s a total babe magnet.”

  Throwing the door open, Matt grabbed the man, pulling him in for a hug. “Holy crap, how long has it been?

  “Long enough to go through two divorces, three businesses, and come down with ulcerative colitis.”

  Matt stared at his old friend as if he were a ghost – a welcome ghost. James Adams had been Matt’s best friend from kindergarten all the way through eleventh grade, until James’s family moved to Kentucky. Matt had been devastated. They’d stayed in touch for a year, writing the occasional letter, calling once a month. But senior year brought a boatload of distractions and both boys settled into their new worlds without one another.

  James had changed a lot, but those mischievous eyes and easy smile, even though it was surrounded by a year or more’s worth of wiry growth, gave him away.

  “How… how did you know I was even here?” Matt said.

  “My dad ran into yours at the Post.”

  “Of course. The local grapevine all starts there.”

  They walked to the kitchen, Matt stumbling for just a step. James was quick to grab his elbow.

  “I heard about what happened,” he said. “You okay?”

  “Actually, today I’m better than usual.” In the echo of the kitchen, he could hear how nasally his voice sounded. One of his nostrils was packed with fresh gauze. “I’m sure you know why I’m here, or at least my father’s version. What the hell brought you back?”

  James took a seat and laughed, that same hearty guffaw that got them thrown out of libraries and assemblies. “Did you not hear the part about my divorces and businesses that went up in smoke? Kentucky sucked. So did West Virginia, Vermont, and New Mexico. My parents moved back here to a smaller place about three years ago. They got one of those Pocono Mountain homes for practically nothing. I could have stayed in New Mexico, but dad hasn’t been doing too well and my mom needed the help. So, here I am, down, but not entirely out.”<
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  Matt sat across from him. He couldn’t believe James was here. It lightened the dark mood he’d been under for months.

  “I’ve got down and out covered,” Matt said, though with a laugh.

  “Yeah, to hear it, you came crawling back so your old man can take care of you.”

  “As you can probably guess, he’s still an asshole.”

  “And would we have it any other way? I mean, come on. A kinder, gentler Abraham Ridley is an actual sign of the Apocalypse. I literally just read it in Bible study class.”

  Matt laughed, the sound and the feeling so alien to him.

  My God, how long has it been since the stick was removed from my ass?

  That old, easy rapport with James came so easily, naturally, it was as if they hadn’t been apart for almost twenty-five years.

  James leaned as far back in his chair as he could, looking in the living room. “I love what your father’s done to the place. It’s got a very retro-Sanford and Son vibe.”

  “Yeah, without my mother around, the place kinda went to shit. But I guess I shouldn’t complain. At least there’s room for me and my family – rent free, just like the good old days.”

  Slapping Matt’s arm, James said, “Rent free? You dog. I’m paying big time over at the moms and pops. Speaking of big spending, you remember that time we stole from our father’s wallets so we could buy the Playboy with Raquel Welch in it from Jerry MacKenzie?”

  Matt slapped a hand on the table. “And she wasn’t even nude in it!”

  “We didn’t know that before we risked our lives. Now, we could just Google it and get it for free. If I was a kid today, I don’t think I’d ever leave my room, as long as the door was padlocked.”

  They hurtled down memory lane for an hour, recalling every major gaffe, goof, and victory in their young lives together. Matt hadn’t thought of most of the things James brought up since college, when things got a little hazy, thanks to a fraternity that grew their own weed behind the off-campus frat house. The conversation eventually steered toward what they had done since their parting in high school and how vastly different their experiences had been.