Thump

Thump

The noise was just loud enough to wake me up, but not loud enough that I remembered what woke me up. It wasn’t until the second

Thump

That I realized that there was an unusual noise coming from my basement. It wasn’t even loud enough to wake up Rose, but I couldn’t leave it now that I’d heard it. I’d have to look into it.

I put on my housecoat (yes, I have a housecoat; all old men have housecoats and slippers) and walked downstairs. The light in the basement was off, as it should be. That meant all I could see at the bottom of the stairs was darkness. I wasn’t worried though, the

Thump

was almost certainly the furnace doing something stupid, same as always.

I got to the bottom of the stairs and turned on the light. In the corner of the room, between my collection of rare books and the shelf where I keep my unusual alcohol glasses (what the hell is a “snifter,” anyway?), apparently staring at the wall, was a man of about 20, with bright red hair. He was wearing a gray T-shirt and some kind of shorts, the baggy ones that the kids are wearing these days. He didn’t seem to notice that the light had come on. I couldn’t see his face, since he was facing the wall, but for some reason, I knew he was smiling.

“Trent! What are you doing in my basement?” Trent was my neighbour’s son. He was a good kid, and I would occasionally have him come over to mow my lawn or lift something heavy. You don’t realize how much you won’t be able to do in your old age until you get there. I couldn’t remember the last time I had asked him over, but it must have been more than a month, and even longer since he had actually been in my house.

Trent turned around. I was right earlier, he was smiling. That was normal, Trent was usually a happy guy. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jones,” he said. “I left my cell phone here this afternoon when Rose asked me over to move these trunks.” He pointed to a couple of rather large trunks I hadn’t noticed before. He was still smiling. He was smiling while he talked. That probably wouldn’t have bothered me if it was the middle of the afternoon, but it was almost three in the morning and everything seems off at three in the morning.

It was entirely possible that Rose had asked Trent over to move some trunks. She’s always getting into one project or another. Now that she’s retired, it’s good that she’s keeping busy. Although I’m technically retired, I still do some work for the agency when they need help with a particularly difficult client. I was in the office all that afternoon, in fact, so if Trent had been over, I wouldn’t have seen him.

There were probably better questions I could have asked, but I was still groggy, so all I could muster was “Did you find it?”

Still smiling, Trent pulled the phone out of his pocket. “Yup! It was under one of the boxes. Sorry for waking you up, Mr. Jones.”

“No problem, Trent. I’m glad you found your phone. Now get back home before you give your mother a heart attack.” I usher him up the stairs and to the front door. He goes willingly, and smiles all the way, but seems cold somehow, as if he doesn’t like what’s going on.

I open the front door for him and he leaves without any protest. “Goodnight, Mr. Jones! Don’t worry, I’LL be safe!” I didn’t like the way he emphasized “I’LL,” but I didn’t care at that point, I was tired. I hadn’t been sleeping well the last few weeks. I don’t really follow politics or current events at this point in my life, but even I know that there’s more than enough to be worried about. That little bit of worry was enough to disrupt my delicate sleep patterns. What would the future hold for my grandchildren? And what about when they have children of their own? What will their lives be like? Will THEY be safe?

I close the door and head to the washroom. After doing my business, I look in the mirror. My hair’s been gone for many years now. Besides that, I think I look pretty good for my age. Most 80-year-olds have more wrinkles than I do. Looking at myself in the mirror, I noticed that the bags under my eyes looked worse than normal. I hoped that that was the product of being up at three in the morning and not a permanent change.

I finished washing up and started to head to bed. Suddenly, it hit me: I completely forgot to turn off the light downstairs. I may have a fair amount of money from my years of careful saving and pension, but there’s no point in wasting electricity. So I head back down the stairs. It would be so much nicer if there was a light switch at the top of the stairs. Oh well.

I got to the bottom of the stairs and turned off the light. I started to head back upstairs when

Thump

I heard the noise again. I whipped around, far faster than I probably should at my age. I don’t immediately see anything, given that the basement is pitch black without the light on. My skin crawling, I turned the light back on. Looking around, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, until I turned to the left and saw…

“Trent, what are you doing?”

He was standing exactly where he had been standing last time. Even without seeing his face, I knew he was still smiling. He turned around slowly. He was smiling. “Hi again, Mr. Jones. Sorry if I woke you. As soon as I left your house last time, I realized that I had lost my keys while looking for my phone. I can’t get into my house without my keys, so I had to come back and pick them up. I didn’t want to bother you, so I just walked in. The door wasn’t locked.”

I don’t know why, but the way he said “the door wasn’t locked” sent a shiver through my spine. What the hell was wrong with this boy? His keys were clearly in his hand. I never knew Trent to lie before. Maybe when he was younger, about who threw the baseball I found in my yard, but never about anything important. I guess it wasn’t impossible he was telling the truth. Maybe I was just tired. But that damned smile…

“Alright, well, I really need to get to bed, Trent. Can we call it a night? And if you forget anything else, you can pick it up in the morning, okay?” I once again approached him to usher him out.

“Sure thing, Mr. Jones. Sorry for keeping you up!”

We head to the door, and I wave to him as he leaves, but he doesn’t look back, just jogs away. This time, I lock and deadbolt the door. That was very odd, I thought to myself. Wait a minute: what the hell was that thumping, anyway? Was he moving those trunks? I’ll have to ask him tomorrow.

I started walking towards the bedroom when I noticed that the basement light was still on. I completely forgot to turn it back off in all the confusion. Maybe I really am getting old. I headed downstairs for the third time that night. I wasn’t rushing, but I wasn’t taking my time either. I was ready for bed. It was creeping towards four in the morning at that point. I may not sleep well, but I cherish the sleep I do get. I get to the bottom of the stairs, and just before turning off the light, I try to lighten my own mood, and jokingly call out “Trent?”

“Yes.”

Thump

Trent is standing in the same corner as always. A million thoughts ran through my mind at once. I locked and deadbolted the door. How did he get down here so fast? Why is he down here? There aren’t any windows down here. He couldn’t have gotten past me. Am I going senile? Why does his smile seem to get bigger every time I look at him? Why is he holding one of my

Thump

Well, that explains one thing at least. The Thump is Trent dropping my books, one at a time, into one of the trunks. It’s more of a chest, really, now that I look at it. It looks like the kind of thing that would have been lost for a couple of centuries before being found by a curious little kid on a hike. I assume it used to be a nice orangey-copper colour, but time and the elements have turned most of the metal on it green. There was definitely something wrong about that chest, but nothing nearly as wrong as that damnable smile.

“Trent, what the hell are you doing? How did you get back in here?”

Trent somehow manages to smile even wider. He

Thump

Drops the book he was holding into the chest without breaking eye contact with me. He starts walking towards me, very slowly. “You still haven’t figured it out, have you?” I have no idea what he’s talking about. He’s tall. Taller than I remember him being. As he walks towards me, he seems to be getting taller somehow. I back away from him, but there’s not really many places for me to go. I can’t tell if he’s still getting taller or if I’m shrinking. This is all wrong.

“No, I…I haven’t.” At this point, he’s less than three feet from me, and he looks like he can barely stand up straight under the ceiling. I can smell his sweat, along with something else, something…

“Oh well, too late now!” He’s inches from my face. The only distance between our faces is vertical, from him towering over me. He takes a deep breath. His smile is finally, mercifully gone. Whatever happens, at least I won’t have to look at that smile while it happens. My heart is pounding in my chest. I’m frozen. I have no idea what he’ll do. I just want to be left alone.

He stops breathing in, holds his breath for a second, then finally lets it out in the form of a loud

“BLACK LIVES MATTER”

I’m more confused than

“BLACK LIVES MATTER”

anything. He’s just screaming

“BLACK LIVES MATTER”

Into my face. He isn’t smiling

“BLACK LIVES MATTER”

Anymore. In fact, his eyes look

“BLACK LIVES MATTER”

Glazed over. I’ve never seen

“BLACK LIVES MATTER”

Trent looking like this. “Trent?”

“BLACK LIVES MATTER”

“Trent? Buddy? What’s

“BLACK LIVES MATTER”

Going on?” He doesn’t respond, except by saying

“BLACK LIVES MATTER”

Over and over. He’s still towering

“BLACK LIVES MATTER”

Over me, blocking my field of vision

“BLACK LIVES MATTER”

but out of the corner of my eye

“BLACK LIVES MATTER”

I can see something moving behind

“BLACK LIVES MATTER”

Trent. I don’t know what to do

“BLACK LIVES MATTER”

Or what to expect. Now there are at

“BLACK LIVES MATTER”

Least four people surrounding

“BLACK LIVES MATTER”

Me, shouting as loud as

“BLACK LIVES MATTER”

They possibly can that

“BLACK LIVES MATTER”

Over and over. I just want

“BLACK LIVES MATTER”

It to stop. I just want

“BLACK LIVES MATTER”

To go to sleep. They are pumping

“BLACK LIVES MATTER”

Their fists at me. I’m so

“BLACK LIVES MATTER”

Lost. What did I do to deserve

“BLACK LIVES MATTER”

This? Someone make it

“BLACK LIVES MATTER”

Stop! No! Stop! STOP!

“BLACK LIVES MATTER”

“STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!”

***

I wake up in my bed. Rose is still asleep next to me. Nothing wakes her up. Not even the constant chanting of

“BLACK LIVES MATTER”

That is still coming from my basement. They’ve been down there for three days now. I have no idea how to get rid of them. The police refuse to do anything, and the way they talk to me, I get the feeling they think I’m an asshole for wanting them gone. “Well, don’t you think that black lives matter?” “Of course, but…” “Well, if that’s true, I don’t see the problem. Do you have a problem with black lives?” “No, of course not, but…” “But, but; always buts with you people. ‘I’m not racist, but…,’ ‘I have a black friend, but…,’ ‘I support black lives, but…’ Frankly, you people sicken me. Call us back if you have a REAL emergency.”

So, I try to get back to sleep. I guess it’s not so bad. It definitely could be worse. I suppose I will eventually get used to it, and maybe not even notice it at some point. I do need to get used to it. This is my life now. I just need to live with it. There’s nothing I can do about it. I just wish I could get some peace and quiet.