Clayton fell asleep soon after.
The light returned at twelve-fifty the next night, just as the footsteps started.
Clayton was in bed watching some old black and white movie and drifting off to sleep when his eyes were hit with the same sharp, almost glowing light.
He sat up, rubbed his eyes and cursed.
Not again.
Thump thump thump thump…Thump thump thump thump…
He was too aware of the footsteps now and knew there was no way he was going to get to sleep until both the footsteps and the light had stopped.
He turned off the television, threw the remote down and hopped out of bed. He didn’t bother turning on any lights — the faint glow of the moon let enough light in for him to see his way around.
He stopped in the middle of his apartment, looked up and shook his head.
Stop your damn worrying, Rose. Keeping me awake won’t bring him home any sooner.
Of course, he knew one way he could solve both his and Rose’s problem. It would only require a bit of guts on his part and a willing soul on Rose’s.
Yeah right. Who am I kidding? A gorgeous woman like that wouldn’t want anything to do with me.
Then there was Rose’s husband, Hal, to worry about. And Clayton certainly didn’t want to get on the wrong side of him.
Clayton wandered over to the refrigerator and grabbed a lukewarm Coors Light. He popped the can open and took a mouthful. It was tepid and bitter, but did the job.
He stood by the fridge and watched the strange rhythmic flickering of the light. Listened to the steady beat of Rose’s footsteps.
Thump thump thump thump…Thump thump thump thump…
Clayton walked over to the window. Sirens and the sound of tires screeching and the occasional scream wafted up through the open window. Somewhere a baby was crying. He liked to keep the window open during the warmer weather. He liked having some air flowing into his stuffy studio apartment, and he didn’t mind the sounds of the city.
He looked down at the alley. Thought perhaps it was somebody with a flashlight playing games with him. He saw nothing but shadows and dark shapes. Shapes that could’ve been the trashcans and abandoned shopping carts that littered the alley — or perhaps something more sinister.
Whatever was down there in the foul alleyway, it certainly wasn’t the source of the light.
It continued to flash at him.
It reminded him of the light catchers he used to have as a boy. The way the sunlight or moonlight used to cast its reflection through the hundreds of tiny mirrors, as the catcher twirled slowly with the wind.
There was no light catcher hanging from his window now.
Maybe in the future, when he got back on his feet and was able to afford some swank apartment on the Upper East Side. When he moved out of this dump, moved out of The Village, then he would buy as many light catchers as he wanted.
He gazed up at the full moon and took a sip of beer.
His mind wandered with thoughts of a new and better life. By the time he had finished his beer, it was past one o’clock and the footsteps had stopped and there was no more light.
He turned away from the window, tossed the can to the floor and hopped back into bed.
He stayed awake until Hal arrived home, thinking about the light and what, or who, was causing it. The light didn’t return and he eventually drifted off to sleep.
“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”
Geoff sighed. “Christ, Clay. I set up these interviews for you and you don’t even show up. What the hell kind of message does that send out, huh?”
“Listen Geoff. I’ve been real tired lately. Haven’t been getting much sleep. I just overslept today, that’s all.”
“That’s all? Well listen, buddy, I’ve managed to set up another interview with my boss the day after tomorrow, eight-thirty sharp. Think you can handle that?”
Clayton wanted to tell him that he didn’t really want the job, that he didn’t want to gain fifty pounds and lose his hair like Geoff. But the guy was his best friend and he was sticking his neck out for him. “Sure. Thanks.”
“Be early, huh? Wear a nice suit and act real sorry about today.”
“I will.”
“Now tell me. What’s up? Why are you so tired lately? You don’t work, you haven’t got a woman to keep you up, and you hardly go out anymore.”
“I’ve been having trouble sleeping, that’s all.”
“There are drugs for that.”
“I don’t want to take drugs. You know that. It’s nothing serious. Just…”
“Just what?”
Clayton knew what Geoff was going to say, but he had to tell someone.
“That Rose babe still keeping you up?”
“Yeah.”
Geoff laughed. “She still pacing back and forth waiting for her dear husband to call every night?”
“Yeah.”
“I tell ya, that Hal is one lucky man. What I wouldn’t do to get into her pants.”
“That’s not all that’s keeping me up,” Clayton said.
“Okay. So what else is?”
“A light.”
Geoff was silent for a moment. “Huh?”
“For the last two nights there’s been this strange flickering of light. It’s as if someone is holding a magnifying glass up to the moon and shining it into my apartment. Only it flickers. On and off. For about ten minutes and then just goes away.”
Clayton waited for the laugher, for the snide comments.
“Dude, you really need to get some sleep,” Geoff chuckled.
“But what could it be? I don’t know where it’s coming from or what’s causing it. It seems to go away once Rose goes to sleep.”
There was a long intake of breath from Geoff. “Well, what do you think it is? A U.F.O.?”
“No, of course not. I dunno.”
Clayton did have his ideas, but they were all ludicrous, and he knew the kind of response he would get from Geoff if he told them to his friend.
“It’s probably nothing.”
“Right. Nothing,” Geoff said. “Listen, get yourself some rest. Go to the interview, knock’em dead, get the job, and then you can move out of Greenwich Village and into my building. There’s a free apartment just waiting for you buddy. Just imagine the parties we could have. Look, why don’t you go up to Rose and keep her company until Hal comes home…?”
If only you knew how many times I’ve thought about that.
“…At least she won’t keep you up with her pacing. You’ll be too tired from all the…”
“Yeah yeah,” Clayton said. “Thanks for the advice.”
Geoff laughed. “Okay Clay. I’d better be off. Catch me after the interview, okay?”
“Sure.”
“Good luck, huh?”
“Thanks.”
Clayton hung up the phone.
Went back to his dinner of beer and pizza.
It was a little after nine-thirty.
Clayton sat on the edge of the bed, waiting. His eyes were heavy and he knew he should be sleeping, but he wanted to see if the light came back again tonight.
He had racked his brain trying to work out what could be the cause of the light, and even though he was sure there was some simple explanation for it, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was something more intriguing, like somebody being kept prisoner was trying to communicate with him by the only way they could — by somehow flicking a light into his apartment.
He knew that was highly unlikely, merely a product of watching too many movies, but the light had to come from somewhere. There had to be a reason for it.
Thump thump thump thump… Thump thump thump thump…