Watching, Waiting: A SHORT Story

by Matt Shaw

  I took the phone from my pocket and opened the text messages. Stephanie hadn’t replied to my last one. At a guess I would say she either left her charger at home - and so her phone is now dead - or she has run out of credit again. I swear, when she asks for cash for credit, she spends the money on going out with friends instead. Sneaky but not exactly helpful in circumstances like this. Even so, give her a text but play it cool… Teenage girls hate it when they feel like they’re being crowded.

  “Hey, hopefully you got my text last night… Just wondering if you’re coming home tonight. Need to know if we’re having dinner for two or three XxX.”

  I hit ‘send’ and watched as a small bar crept its way across the screen showing the progress of the transmission. And then it was gone. She might not be able to text me back but I’m sure she can borrow a friend’s phone for a quick call. I’m thinking take-away tonight. It might help win Kathy back round. Forgiveness through food, right? Whatever. I don’t want to order and not have enough food for her and - at the same time - I don’t want to order too much and waste it. It’s not as though it’s exactly cheap.

  My heart skipped a beat when the phone vibrated in my hand once more. Damned unknown number again. These marketing companies annoy me. I don’t know how they get hold of your number. You try and keep it private but - somehow - it still manages to get in their hands. Companies offering help with PPI claims, unwanted help in claiming for an accident you never had, offers of money at exceptionally high interest rates… If I could find out who gave my number out, I’d kill them. Verbally at least.

  I lifted the phone to my ear, ready to answer, but stopped short of pressing the relevant button on the screen when I noticed Travis and his friends step from the little shop. I declined the call and hid my phone back in my pocket . They can have a piece of my mind later.

  Travis and his friends bypassed the fish and chip shop and headed back in my general direction. I turned away from them and started walking back towards the car. As I did so, I wanted to turn occasionally to see if they were close-by - still coming - but I knew I couldn’t. I couldn’t let them see my face. At least, I couldn’t let Travis see my face. Not after yesterday.

  As I walked I kept listening back to their voices. If they suddenly got distant it would have meant that they were walking away. All the time they remain at this particular volume I know they’re still heading back to the school.

  I reached my small car and climbed in, closing the door behind me. I leaned down to the footwell of the passenger seat and made it look as though I was pretending to get something from down there. Listening to the voices still, Travis and his friends walked by the front of the car and through the school gates. I sat up and watched as they continued back to classes, merrily eating their fucking sweets. I hope the cunts choke.

  “I’ll see you at three o’clock,” I muttered.

  15:05

  The school bus was parked up. The driver hadn’t opened the doors yet and students were milling around, impatiently waiting - all of them keen to get home and do whatever it is they wanted to do. I had parked up ten minutes before the end of school and twelve minutes before the bus had arrived. I wasn’t going to miss Travis today. Not like yesterday. I had scoured the waiting students but Travis wasn’t among them so now my eyes were fixed - like a hawk - on the school gates. I carefully studied each face as they came out. Sometimes it was easy as it was one student at a time and sometimes hard as a group came out together. Still no Travis though.

  It’s okay. It’s only been five minutes. His class might have been at the other end of the school. It would take time to get his bag from the locker and get out. He’ll be out. Any minute now. I’m sure of it. Tonight is the night. I can feel it.

  Shit.

  The take-away.

  If tonight is the night - what about the meal I had planned with the wife (and daughter if she ever replies to my text). Don’t be hard on her. She would have only just finished classes, like Travis. I am sure she will reply soon enough. But that doesn’t help me with what I should do tonight if my plans do come to fruition.

  Need to fix things at home.

  I suppose I could find out where he lives and follow through with the plan another night? Have a meal with the wife and kid tonight? Try and fix things? And then tomorrow… Tomorrow I could finish what needed doing. Not ideal but… A compromise. I just need patience. But then - from the moment I started to consider doing this - all my patience went out of the window. Especially when more and more people around me let me down. To Hell with it. The family can wait. They will be there tomorrow and I will have had Travis. I would have got the urge - the need - out of my system. Just get it done today and then rebuild the family tomorrow.

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out the mobile once more. A quick text to the daughter telling her not to worry. We won’t be having take-out tonight. Daddy has to work late.

  I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and looked up in the nick of time. Travis was walking out of the gates with his bag slung over his right shoulder. His expression; still not a care in the world. No friends with him this time. Just him, alone. If only there weren’t so many people milling around. I could have just grabbed him now and been done with it. At least - looking for the cloud’s silver-lining - it means he will be headed home.

  I sat there, watching, as he jumped on the bus which had since started letting people on. I didn’t start the car yet. It would be another five minutes - give or take- before the bus pulled away ferrying the kids back to where they lived.

  I sat there waiting, wishing for it to move away so we can get this show on the road, with my mind bouncing around ideas as to what happens next and whether I’d get away with it. What? Of course I will get away with it. He won’t tell anyone. I sure as Hell won’t tell anyone. It will be our little secret. The wife will never know and neither will my daughter. I’ll think of something to tell them though, something to keep them happy - the wife anyway seeing as the daughter has been spending so much time with her friend recently. She doesn’t have a clue as to what is happening at home and I can’t help but feel that is for the best. As for the wife… As for Kathy… What’s one more little lie? Especially if it means keeping the peace?

  The bus’s indicator flicked to the right and - carefully - the bus pulled away from the side of the pavement. Here we go. Time to find out where Travis lives.

  18:32

  I stepped into my house half-expecting to see Kathy on the stairs waiting for me. She should have been home from work by now. She should have been home hours ago. The roads were relatively clear at the moment so I know she wasn’t stuck in traffic somewhere. Unless, maybe, she had been home and then gone out again?

  I walked down the length of the hallway, towards the kitchen, with the bags of shopping I had picked up in the afternoon whilst I waited for the school to kick-out. Usually Kathy would leave me a little note on the fridge if she had popped out somewhere; just a little clue as to where she had gone. There was nothing there other than an old photograph of us - stuck there via a magnet - which had been there for as long as the fridge. I liked that photo. We both did. It was our wedding day and someone had captured the image moments after my darling wife had taken a handful of the cake and shoved it in my face. There is a look of shock on my face and a beaming smile on hers. I should have expected it considering - whilst we were planning the marriage - she always joked that she was going to do it. I smiled to myself and set the two bags of shopping - bread, milk, tea-bags, a few other essentials - up onto the side. Her mug was there from earlier, along with her now empty breakfast plate (empty, at least, other than a few burnt crumbs). Guessing another helping of my punishment for lying to her was having to clean up after her too? I shook my head. She really going to be that petty with me?

  I walked out of the kitchen and back down the hallway to the bottom of the stairs. I stopped and listened. The house was still. Quiet. Depressingly so. I called her name up the stairs hopi
ng for an answer but there was nothing. She definitely wasn’t in. Unless she was still giving me the silent treatment?

  I remember a time when the house was always buzzing with noise. Mainly when Stephanie was younger - say about eight years old. Stephanie was always running around, or playing her music noisily in her bedroom, or asking her mum to help with make-up… I’d be in the office working and praying for peace and quiet but now… Now I actually miss the daily noises of people going about their lives happily. Of course there were temper tantrums from Stephanie, especially when she hit those teenage years, and I don’t miss those but, even so… I don’t like the silence.

  I climbed the stairs and went to the bedroom. The door was shut. So she is in and giving me the silent treatment? I knocked on the door and carefully opened it - half expecting a barrage of abuse but none came. Nothing unusual in the bedroom. Kathy wasn't home though. The room hadn’t been destroyed in a temper tantrum, not that I expected her to, and had been left as though she’d simply gone out for the day. The bed was made, her make-up was out on the side, there was a towel hanging over the back of her make-up chair as though she’d put it there after washing her hair. Nothing unusual.

  18:36pm. I am sure she will be home soon. Knowing my luck it will be just before I have to leave the house. I can picture it now. She will come in, expecting a conversation with me to find out what exactly is going on and I’ll have to cut her off short and disappear. And by doing that - well it will only fuel her paranoia and general hostility towards me at the moment. To think, yesterday afternoon we were enjoying a picnic together in the park and now this. Talk about a quick change in circumstances.

  The more I thought about it, the more I realised it would be stupid to sit here waiting for her to come home just to have to tell her I am going out again. It will only open the door to more questions that I am not in a position to answer. I need to be smart. Leave the house now and deal with everything at home. Find a suitable lie to cover everything up. A lie that not only my wife will believe but strangers too, if they ever come knocking on my door. No idea what yet, though. I need to be prepared. Whatever. I can’t sit here waiting for her.

  I closed the bedroom door, leaving the room as it was, and hurried across the landing through to my office. A modest sized room with a filing cabinet (mostly filled with old paperwork), a computer desk with a computer and a cupboard in the corner. In the bottom of the cupboard, stashed at the back underneath an old pile of clothes I no longer wear, was my gym bag. I pulled the top layer of clothes off and lifted the bag. The contents clanked around inside. Forgot how heavy this was. I tossed the clothes back inside and closed the cupboard door. Kathy doesn’t normally come into this room, unless I am here, but there is no point in leaving it a mess. If she were to come in, and see, it would only raise yet more questions.

  With everything back in its place, and the gym bag in hand, I hurried from the house - back to the car - before I was caught there. I tossed the bag in the trunk of the car and jumped into the driver’s seat. Key in the ignition, engine started, a little accidental wheel-spin and I was off back down the road. A little flutter of anticipation in my chest. Tonight is going to be a good night.

  Thursday

  00.01

  All of my Christmases came at once last night. I was there, waiting for Travis, sitting outside of his house - a little further down the street anyway - watching and waiting. For what I wasn’t sure. I had spent so much time trying to find out where he lived that I never stopped to consider what would happen when I did get to his house. I knew I couldn’t just barge in there. Not with his mum and dad living there too. They’d probably object to their son coming out with me. Even more so if they knew my plans for him. For us.

  It was a little after eight o’clock when the front door opened and his mum and dad stepped out looking all smart. They walked towards the car parked in the driveway and got into it. I saw Travis standing at the door. He was waving his parents goodbye with a smile on his face. Look at him, the little cunt. The perfect son. He looked to be waving them off but it’s more likely to be a case of him making sure they’re definitely gone so he can get up to mischief. Standing there, like butter wouldn’t melt. I wonder what his parents really think of him and his antics. Can they really be proud of that? Or do they put a brave face on because they feel as though they’re supposed to love him?

  I had sat in the car waiting. I wanted to make sure his parent’s car didn’t suddenly come back down the road. Unlikely, yes, but they could have forgotten something and popped home. It’s not as though I hadn’t done such a thing in all my years - more so as I have gotten older, much to my growing frustration. I stayed there waiting, and watching, for another thirty minutes. Thirty minutes? Everything in my life at the moment seems to be dictated by time. Be here at this time, be there at that, don't forget this at this time and so on and so on. I’ll be glad when today is over with and I can finally stop worrying about time. Unless of course people learn of what Travis and I get up to and then I’ll have nothing but time to think about - up until they release me from my cage and allow me back onto the streets.

  People like me are always thought of as the predator. We are always considered to be the evil ones with very few people feeling sympathy for us. We are given strict punishments with regards to lengthy prison sentences and given a rough life with the inmates we are forced to share with. All those who prey on children are hated. The circumstances are never considered. Sometimes life is really unfair but I won’t let those thoughts detract from what I am going to do. I need this. Travis needs this.

  Darkness fell before I got out of my car. I was still worried his mum and dad would make another appearance as I scuttled over to his doorway. At that stage I still had no idea as to how I was going to proceed with this. Just as I hadn’t given any thought to the finer details with regards to what I told Kathy, I hadn’t thought about this either. That had not stopped me from knocking on the door though, a million different things flying through my head with how best to start a conversation with him.

  “Hey, remember me?”

  “Hi Travis.”

  “Sorry to bother you but my car ran out of petrol and I wondered if I could borrow your phone?”

  All these different options and routes the conversation could take and yet - when his face appeared at the door - it suddenly became very clear as to what course of action I would take.

  “Cunt!” I couldn’t help myself. The word had just blurted from my mouth as I took a swing at his smug-looking face. My knuckles connected with his face with a force which surprised me and knocked him - spark out - to the floor with a satisfying crack. At least I had originally thought it had been the force of the punch but - in hindsight - it could have been the way his head hit back against the floor. And now I am here, sitting in this abandoned warehouse whilst waiting for him to wake up. He is on the chair in front of me - head slumped back at an uncomfortable angle - and I am resting back against the wall with a tatty old blanket I found to keep me warm. My old gym bag is on the floor next to me, unzipped with the contents on display. Just need him to wake up, preferably before the sun comes up and any potential walkers come by the old building.

  I’m not sure what this building was originally used for. It’s definitely old and has seen better days with many of the windows smashed through. It’s clear that we are not the only people to have stumbled across the ruins either. In the other corner of the room there are piles of rubbish and drug paraphernalia. All the more reason to wish him awake so we can get this over and done with before we are interrupted.

  I got up and walked over to where he sat.

  “Wake up,” I gently tapped him across the cheek. When there was no response I did it again, and again until he finally started to respond with quiet little murmurs. He’s coming around. This is it, showtime. “Wake up!” I ordered him again.

  Travis opened his eyes. It took him a while to focus.

  “Where am I?” he asked. />
  “Not important. Do you know who I am?”

  “What happened?”

  “I hit you. You lost consciousness. I brought you here.”

  “Where am I?” he asked again.

  The old building sat in the woods, close to the edge. He doesn’t know this now although he might when I tell him where we are, but we are actually close to the spot where our lives first crossed paths. The motorway is less than a five minute walk from this very spot. He says he doesn’t know me. He didn’t recognise me in the park Tuesday morning and he didn’t recognise me when he opened his front door to me, not that I gave him much of a chance. Now, with his eyes slowly focusing in on me, there is still no recognition. It hurts. How could he forget me so easily?

  He tried to move. He won’t get far. He was bound. Rope around his wrists and rope around his ankles. Strong knots to stop him from escaping. He is mine. I have gone to a lot of trouble to get him here and he is not going to get away.

  “What is this?” he shouted. His voice - so scared - echoed around the abandoned warehouse.

  “Do you recognise this place?” I asked. There was fear in his voice. There was a calmness in mine.

  “No!” he spat. “No! Where the fuck am I?”

  “I’m not really sure what this building was used for, I’ll be honest. I like it though. It has a certain charm about it. You might not recognise it now but if I were to walk you out of the front doors… If you saw where we were - you’d know instantly.” I pointed towards the far wall, “Just beyond that wall, across the field, through the woods… There lies the motorway. Should be a little path somewhere leading to a narrow footbridge leading over to the other side and yet more woods…” His faced dropped. Slowly he puts the pieces together. And here I was thinking he was going to have to have it explained to him until it finally twigged.