FACES PAST

As the frost licked at the panes of glass like a silent predator seeking entrance, I rubbed away the sweat from the inside of the window and waved goodbye to my dad as he backed out of the driveway this chilly morning. His taillights faded into the distance, swallowed up by the stark black pavement surrounded by the chill whiteness of the fresh snow. I sighed, clasping my hands, letting the curtain drop as I stood and contemplated the day’s schedule.


It was a monumental occasion; for the first time ever, I was given the privilege of staying home alone for more than six hours at a time. Dad had to go away on an important business assignment, one that might find us the beneficiaries of a new job position or a grand-scale pay raise. Neither mattered more than the freedom I was bestowed this weekend.
I scurried up the stairs in my slippers and plaid pajamas (rule number one of home-alone-ness: don’t bother to get into your decent clothes) and plopped into bed butt-first to catch a few hours of late-morning Z’s before I tackled the dilemma of what to eat first from the newly-replenished pantry. Closing my eyes, hands behind my head, I settled down atop the covers and dazed off into whatever dream world I could conjure up.
BRAAAANNNNGGGG! The phone rudely interrupted my nap and reminded me futilely once again to turn the blasted ringer down. I coughed, rubbed my eyes, and sat up before the next ring grated my senses. I reached over to my nightstand and picked up the phone.
“Hello?” I mumbled blearily.
No answer, just a few clicks. “Hello? Anyone there?” I repeated. Nothing.
I replaced the phone, and dropped back down, annoyed, but not thinking much of it.

In dreams, you don’t know what to expect. Nor do you expect to remember the sublime. I did, this time, but only in pieces.
Blue sky, cold chill much like today.
In an unfamiliar car, strapped to what appeared to be a child seat. I was young.
Exhaust leaving steam trails that faded slowly as they dragged skyward.
In front, driving… who was that man? Black haired, close-cropped, eyeglasses. Friendly-looking. Glancing back at me with a smile. Who was he? He started to say something as he looked behind…
“David…”
And I awoke.

It wasn’t the phone that woke me; this time it was definitely pangs of hunger. On a normal schedule, one that I had complied with ever since I remembered, dad would have woke me a couple hours ago to get ready for school or camp or whatever we needed to do together, then he would fix a nice breakfast of bacon and scrambled eggs with a little bit of chopped mushroom and onion inside. Beat the heck out of me how to cook something like that so efficiently, but I was going to try. I raced downstairs into the kitchen, tore open the fridge, and got out some eggs, milk, an unopened package of bacon, and a can of mushrooms.
First, I went to work frying the bacon gently in our cast iron skillet; its familiar scents and crackling sounds of its little packets of fat being released made my tummy twinge even more forcefully. I pressed on, whipping up the mushrooms and egg together with a little bit of milk, keeping an eye on the bacon so it wouldn’t get too overly crisp.
Soon I had the eggs going, and within minutes I had a delicious breakfast, not unlike the meals that my dad had made for me, but certainly not as skillfully prepared as his, either. I took a Mount Everest-sized heap for my plate, then sat down in the dining room near the bay window to enjoy my concoction.
I was in the middle of a bite, when I caught sight of the car in my peripheral vision. I turned, and dropped my fork with a clatter. Squinting, I moved the curtain framing the window further aside. I couldn’t believe my eyes. There, parked and idling in front of the house, was the car I had been dreaming about, and that man with the short black hair inside it. He was definitely looking into the house.
I eased around the table slowly, trying not to catch the man’s attention. Was this a family friend? Why else would I be dreaming about him? He looked oddly familiar, yet I wasn’t sure what to make of his actions. It aroused my suspicion enough to grab the wall-mounted cordless phone from the kitchen and run to the front door.

If you see any strangers, my dad had warned, give me a call right away. I decided to wait, just a second. I cracked the door ever so slightly, peering out the crack with one squinting eye. The car was still there. It no longer had the car seat in the back, like I had dreamed. Gathering whatever foolish courage I had, I swung the front door open slowly and walked outside. The man’s eyes caught mine… there was a gleam, a movement in his facial features…. And then the car sped away before I could get any closer. There was definitely something going on. I decided right then to call dad and let him know what was up.

“Did you see what he looked like?” asked dad, frantically as I related the incident outside with the car and the black-haired man.
“Well, yeah. He looked kind of short, with short black hair and glasses.. kind of chubby face,” I replied.
There was brief silence, and a soft gasping sound at the other end of the line. “Da-David. You need to lock all the windows and doors right now. Make sure they’re completely secure.”
“What’s wrong, dad? Do you know this guy?”
“Yeah, sorta… David, you’ve got to trust me. Don’t let anyone in the house. Anyone. Understand me?”
“Should I call the police or something?”
“No,” he insisted, “If this guy gets wind that we called the cops.. he could do… anything… David, just promise me you won’t let anyone in until I get home. God, I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
Aw, crud, I thought, selfish pig that I was; so much for my alone time.
Dad continued, “I’ll be home as soon as possible. Give me a call on my cell if anything happens, k?”
“Alright, dad. I’ll be okay.”

I checked all of the locks in the house, to make sure everything was locked tight. It was. Breathless from the circle around the house, I slouched back in the dining room chair where my plate of half-finished eggs and bacon had gone cold. I glanced back outside to the snowy lawn and road beyond. There was no car there anymore. The birds were chirping merrily, oblivious to the chill surroundings.
I closed my eyes. I usually did not forget a face. I remembered that man. I remember his smile, which seemed genuine in my dream… the way he looked back at me. Someone from long ago and far away… a friend… gone bad?

I jumped. There was a loud knock at the door!
Again… it was commanding, very loud, like it was the..
“Police. Please open up!”
… the police!
Sure enough, when I looked back up and out the window, a white cruiser with flashing blue and yellow lights was parked askew on the front lawn, an officer waiting beside it.
Don’t open the door for anyone…
Anyone? No police?
“Hello? Anyone home? This is the police! We need you to open this door!”
The knocks were louder and more demanding.
I crept slowly to the front door, not knowing exactly what to do. Surely the police wanted to help. Maybe dad had called them. Yes, that had to be it.
“David? We know you’re in there. Please open the door. We need to talk to you.”
Yes, maybe they knew about the stranger that was stalking the house, and had picked him up.
I reached over to the latch, and cautiously turned it to the unlocked position.
I opened the door to a large police officer, whose face looked deathly serious. He stared intensely straight at me.
“David,” he said hurriedly, “You need to come with us.” He glanced around, as if looking out for something, or someone. “Quickly.”
He grabbed me by the arm firmly; it hurt a bit. They didn’t need to do that, really. I turned to the officer and asked, “Did my dad call you and tell you…?”
As we scooted to the patrol car, he looked back at me and replied, “Well, yes, David… but not exactly. We’ll explain it to you when we get you to the station.”
Station? Was I being arrested or something? What was going on?
My mind racing as I was being escorted inside the patrol car, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that car again… and the man with the glasses, not smiling this time, but somber, almost to the point of tears.
“He’s here! He’s here!” I wanted to say but couldn’t, I was so confused and scared, and tired.

Dark.
They had taken me to a dark room, and explained to me what was going to happen.
It was imperative, imperative, they said that I try as hard as I could to cooperate so they could figure out what was going on.
How, when I didn’t even know was going on.
A short, bald man with a graying goatee stepped in the room, temporarily immersing the barely furnished room in yellow light. He smiled, and sat in the chair in front of me. I was in the more comfortable of the two chairs in the room, a plush easy chair that reclined slightly. I was afraid, but at least I was comfortable.
“I know you don’t understand what’s going on,” the man said to me warmly, as he brought out what looked like a tiny penlight from the pocket of his sports jacket. “Probably less than we do. That’s what we’re here to do.”
I nodded. “I just want to know why I’m here,” I said meekly.
”You’ll know soon enough. First I want you to tell me what you know about that man you’ve seen following you in recent days.”
They know! My skin tingled. Perhaps they’re just trying to find out who this guy is and what he wants. My dad came through after all… but why don’t they ask him? I blurted, “My dad… where is he? Did he call?”
The man frowned. “Actually, he did not. We were concerned about your safety.” Moving closer to me, he continued, “You will have to trust us on this. We have been looking for you for a long time.”
I didn’t know much of what to say, except the whole thing was overwhelming. I felt like a rat in a maze, being led along with a small bit of cheese that kept moving away from me as I felt secure that it was in my grasp. Yet I thought something positive might happen if I complied. I was uncomfortable, but somehow I trusted these people. Again, I nodded positively.
“Good,” he said, switching on his light. “Then, let us begin. Please focus on the light.”

He led me down the dark, murky corridors of my memory. I did not remember much about my childhood. Our family had survived a major house fire with little. Sentimental treasures were lost. As I journeyed back, I did not see the fire. I saw remnants of things buried of which I only had vague recollections.
A lock ahead. You have the key. Remember the car. Remember the strange man.
The lock is opened, the gateway swings ajar, white winter light floods into my vision.
I’m back in the car on that chilly day, strapped in my car seat.
Man with black hair and glasses is looking back at me, smiling. I look closer. He’s wearing gloves he squeezes my knee gently.
“Be back in a second, ok Brian?”
Brian Brian who is Brian that’s not my
The man turns back around to face forward in his seat, and opens the driver’s side door. The car is parked around the side of a brick building, which looks like the entrance to a corner store. The road is icy, and the man nearly trips scooting around the bend, winter overcoat flapping around him. Then he’s gone.
The man I know that face he’s not a
Quiet. Alone.
Then I see someone out of the corner of my eye come from behind the building on the right. Tall. Curly hair.
Dad?
No smile, just determination. He walks around the car, passing the driver’s seat, to the door near my seat. He peers in.
Dad? NO
“Daddy!” I scream. “Daddy!”
He opens the door. I scream louder.
“Daddy!” The belt is unlatched, and he grasps me firmly and yanks me out of my seat.
I kick. He holds my feet.
Man with black hair comes around corner.
Dad.
“DADDY!”
Daddy sees me. Horror. Bad tall man with curly hair runs swiftly into small green pickup.
Shoves me into pickup.
Daddy…. Growing smaller. Curly haired man speaks.
“I’m your daddy now.”
My daddy now my daddy now no strangers my home my home
My home for 10 years.
I awake, screaming, mouthing the exact same words I had when I was four years old.
“Daddy help me!”
This time Daddy is here to help me. Sitting beside the hypnotist, he finally smiles, wiping away the fountain of tears streaming down his cheeks. He gets up, takes me by the hand, and pulls me up, practically throwing me into his trembling arms.

I knew it was going to take some time to adjust.
Ten years was certainly a long time.
As my Dad – my REAL Dad – and I walked closely together out of the police station, I noticed a picture hanging above the desk sergeant’s head. The sergeant looked where I was staring, noticed the picture, and pulled it down. He handed it to me, saying, “I don’t think we’ll be needing this.. you can have it.”
I looked down at those innocent eyes, those eyes completely unaware of what was to come, my eyes in better days. Perhaps there were more pictures to look at and piece together the life I truly should have had for so many years. Looking back at Dad, I knew there would be.

I never saw the man I called my dad for a decade ever again.