THROUGH HER WINDOW
by Harper Kingsley
He’d found her through the Internet in a remarkably easy way.
It was almost as though she wanted him to find her.
He didn’t mention the leaks in her security. Just quietly followed the gingerbread trail until here he was.
Standing outside her house.
Peeking in through her windows and seeing her there. In her house. Her safe place. Her home where she and her family lived.
He watched her for a long time. Standing there in the dark. Huddling in his jacket to deal with the night chill.
He saw all her secrets. The her she was when she was alone.
The strange, beautiful her. The awkward, disgusting, slovenly, vulgar, lovely her.
He watched her and there was no part of him that wanted to look away. Even though he felt guilty. Even though he knew that what he was doing was wrong.
Wrong on a fundamental level.
The level of "Thou shalt not secretly follow people home" badness.
He’d done things when he was younger. Things that had disturbed his mother enough that she’d enacted several awkwardly horrible "discussions" that basically amounted to "Don’t be a rapist."
It had upset him when he was younger. There were several instances where he had wanted to scream at her to "Stop! Stop! STOP!" But now… He kind of understood where she had been coming from.
The very thought of sexual assault disgusted him. He had NO interest in being That Guy. He’d always been careful in his everyday life to not share certain jokes and to not touch without permission. Even as a kid, he’d had a clear awareness of "Personal Bubble."
It was just that as a kid he’d been very obvious about what he was thinking about. It had set adults on edge. Waiting for him to do something.
He hadn’t understood why some people didn’t like him. Not at first. Not until he was in his late teens. Just in time for him to be able to start over again at college.
And by then he was able to understand that some people took his direct stare as threatening. That his long pauses between blinks set off danger signals in some peoples’ brains. That the utter stillness his body fell into while he was thinking made people uncomfortable.
He’d been a weird kid and he’d grown into a weird man. It was something he’d taken way too long to accept but that had embraced him until he’d finally accepted the concept.
When he was young, he hadn’t been able to mask his nature. He’d walked through the world naked. As himself.
And it had unsettled people and resulted in several instances of his mother confronting other adults because of him.
Because of The Humping Game instance when he was 5. (After his step-dad told him that two dogs having sex were "playing together. Like you do, with your friends." And he hadn’t understood sarcasm and he’d wondered whether playing like that was fun the next time he’d been alone with friends. Which had resulted in a giant blow-up in the house and standing in a circle of adults looming over his not understanding self. And it wasn’t until years later that he realized how smoothly his mother had soothed everyone’s anger (and fear and disgust and accusation), even if things were never quite the same again.)
The Strawberry Jam Caper when he was 7.
The Apple Pie Event when he was 13.
So many times when he’d done something that had resulted in him facing down irate adults. And nothing was as casual as when he forgot to do his homework or had too many bathroom breaks and was accused of abusing the privilege of using the toilet.
They were times when he’d realized "Oh shit. I screwed up." And he’d find himself in a room with a table and chairs. And there would be teachers, principals, and police on one side, and him and his mother on the other. Her nervousness had always put his teeth on edge.
It had taken him a long time, but he’d eventually understood how his behavior could be misconstrued by other people. That what he thought was not necessarily what other people thought. That every other person out there had their own, separate way of thinking that came from a completely different framework than his own.
It had become easier to live once he’d assimilated the awareness of other people thinking in different ways from him.
He’d begun to talk about what he was thinking, letting people know what his thought processes were rather than causing surprise with his actions. There were still times when he’d been talked to at work, but he hated those guys and there was no way they were ever going to fire him. (He was essential essential personnel.)
Socially, he was living so much better than he had as a kid. He had people he’d been friends with for years rather than the brief instances of his childhood. School friends had come and went and usually stopped being friends at school once he was invited to their houses. It had bothered him when he was young, but he’d come to understand that school friends were school friends and he simply wasn’t suitable for sleepovers.
As an adult, he got to choose his social interactions. He could go to someone’s house during the day and leave late at night; he didn’t have to sleepover because he had a car or money for taxis or the bus. He could leave when he’d had enough of socializing.
Sometimes he thought that most of his personal problems went away once he’d become old enough to go where he wanted when he wanted. That freedom had allowed him to choose whether he wanted to be around people or not. Whether he wanted to read books or watch TV or stand in the sun or lounge in his bed or or or… Freedom was sweet.
He went to work on a schedule he’d agreed to. And every time he knew that he would work for a set length of time and then he could go home or to wherever he wanted. Even when work was horrible… he always knew that he could leave when it was over or whenever he wanted.
He could pick up his stuff and leave. Because he had the freedom to. Because he owned his own house and had money in his pocket and he knew he could always find another job before his savings ran out. Because he knew the union would protect him and consider him first for any openings.
Sometimes he wasn’t satisfied with the course of his life, but he was able to accept it because everything past the age of 18 was his choice. Including moving out of his mother’s house and into an apartment with two roommates he’d never met before moving in.
Harper Kingsley
Ko-fi: HarperWCK
Paypal: HarperKingsley
He’d lived with various roommates for six years as he’d worked and saved money and put himself through community college. Then he’d gotten his first great job and moved out to his own place. And his life had really started.
Working and saving money and buying the land that he then built his house on. Teaching himself to cook food he wanted to eat. Watching all the movies and reading all the books that everyone else had grown up with. Becoming a person and not just a human automaton sleepwalking through the days.
He found out some of the things he liked and didn’t like. Gained hobbies and activities that took him out of his house. Gathered friends and acquaintances and the awareness that he never had to be alone if he didn’t want to be alone.
He was introduced to hobby forums, and through the forums an entire world had opened up to him. And he embraced the Internet as he had never done before. And it was great.
Because he’d found her.
By her photographs and videos at first. By her interviews and the rich sound of her laughter. By her arts and crafts and the food she made. By her funny way of pronouncing some words, the almost-lisp that sometimes crept in when she was tired. The way she would stutter a little bit when she was excited. Everything about her was marvelous and real.
He followed her everywhere and lurked in her shadow. He consumed her content and wanted so much for her to acknowlege him even as he was too scared to directly interact with her.
He went through her every post and reverse imaged every bit of media she had ever shared. And it was a clear path laid out before him, directly to her.
And here he was. Not even a little bit tired after driving for so long to get here.
He watched her. For hours. In the dark; gazing into the light.
/END
~Harper Kingsley
https://paypal.me/harperkingsley.
https://patreon.com/harperkingsley.
https://ko-fi.com/harperwck.
https://amazon.com/shop/harperkingsley0.
https://www.harperkingsley.net/blog.
https://kimichee.com.
