Page 20 of Gaze

The door to my apartment opens sometime in the later afternoon. I can tell the time of day by the shadows crawling up the building opposite. The heat is sticky and unbearable; I don't bother to shift around in my chair and see who it is. Whoever they are, they show no interest in talking to me as they move about the apartment.

I am still sitting in my chair, still smoking as the pile of burnt ash builds in the tray next to me, the dead ends crumpled from being stubbed out.

I hear the rusting of bags, and the opening of draws and the bathroom cabinet. But my attention is on a small bird dancing along the power lines. It so effortlessly hops on the thin rope as if it weighs nothing.

“Are you even going to look at me Jen?” Lisa's voice sounds hoarse and irritated. At least I now know who is emptying the containers of my apartment into bags.

“I know what you look like.” I reply, still not turning my chair around. She's probably in some new outfit I won't have seen before, but it will still look stunning and effortless on her.

“I could have been anyone, I do wish you would lock the door.”

“No one knows the door is open,” Other than you and Steve and some random woman on the internet - I muse to myself, a smile creeping across my lips.

"I'm worried about you.” She pleads

“So worried you are leaving me,” I point out, as I turn my gaze to the once green area between the buildings, there is a child playing on the small patch of dead dry grass.

“I just can't do this anymore Jen, I don't recognize who you are any more.” Her voice cracks as she stifles down another cry. “But that doesn’t stop me loving you.”

“I haven’t changed,” I point out to her.

“Yes, you have. You have become obsessed with that window,” She waves her hand at the window next to me.

“It’s my job to watch people Lisa.” I remind her, rolling my eyes. It’s like she’s forgotten what my job is, what my life is. To stare at people through a lens for hours at a time. To get into their intimate moments and crystalize them for eternity in print.

“Not like this it's not,” A firm edge creeping into her voice “What you are doing is perverted Jen.”

“No, it’s not.” I lie, she has no idea of what I did last night, but that's different anyway, it’s unrelated to whatever Lisa sees. “I told you, I saved her” I add, a swell of pride deep in my chest.

“Jen, do you hear how insane you are right now?” Lisa moved to stand between me and the widow, looking down at me. From this distance I could see she had been crying, I can see the red rings round her eyes.

“Please come home with me, we can get you some help.” She placed her hand on my arm, pleading. I shake her off; I don't want her touch it feels alien to me.

“I don't need help!” I glare at her; she’s like a wounded animal all small and fragile.

“Yes, you do Jen…” She trails off her eyes welling with tears. “But it doesn’t sound like you are ready to hear it. And I can't wait around any longer for you to see it.”

“Because I don't need help!” I shout back, the sound reverberating around the walls.

Silence echoes around the room as Lisa stares at me, like she is committing my face to memory. Her pupils dart across my features.

“I love you,” She whispers, “But I can't be with you right now.”

“Figures.” I say turning back to the window, the final nail in the coffin of our relationship - it has been coming and I feel nothing. I should feel sad, I love Lisa, but I don't feel anything. Not sadness, not anger, not even illation. Nothing.

“Please don't leave it too long before you come and find me again Jen.” her voice was further away. She’s walking towards the door with her things, I could see the faint reflection in the window, a designer duffle and suitcase - the last remittance of her in my home. “And don't lose who you are in here.”

Her last words made me flare with anger, but she was gone. I was once again blissfully alone.

chapter

twenty-one

I grope around the small table next to me for a new pack of smokes. Finding my box of matches and the new pack with one hand I don’t even need to look as I take one and light it. The feel of the smoke hitting my lungs is blissful, as it helps steady my nerves after Lisa’s visit.

Staring up at the top window I follow my usual routine across the checkerboard of windows opposite, but no one is around yet. There are a pair of children spaced out watching TV lying across a couch, but they don't hold my attention. The old couple are sitting in their respective chairs reading, he’s got a large paper, and she is reading a thin book. I daydream for a moment about what they are reading, she’s reading one of those bodice rippers dreaming of a better sex life while he is enthralled by the stock markets.

Lastly my eyes rest on my prized window, the one I now know contains a couple, Laura and Anna. I wonder what they asked about me, did they want to know my name, what I did, or why I spent my days looking out the window. Based on the conversation with Steve, they hadn’t ratted me out for my more eccentric activities.