Watching

I was searching the family PC for some videos we uploaded from various fieldtrips and came across a couple thumbnails I didn’t recognize, so I opened one.

The clip began with a tight close-up that was blurry and grainy. I saw movement, but the audio didn’t match the video. It was almost like a shot of something playing on a TV.

The camera zoomed out a bit, clearly showing a woman and a little boy playing in a kiddie pool. But there were no sounds of voices or splashing, so that made little sense to me. I didn’t recognize the people at all.

Of course, I tried to remember when I might’ve recorded what I was seeing, or when one of the kids might’ve captured it, but our fieldtrips were never to swim. We went to museums and galleries, the zoo, the library….

The mom and her son marched around in the water, and the camera slowly zoomed in. I tried really hard to catch a clear glimpse of her face so I could at least place her—that might spark a memory. But as the frame tightened on her backside, I realized this wasn’t a field trip recording.

Understanding shocked me like a thousand volts. I knew who the woman was.

This was our nextdoor neighbor, playing with her son in their backyard. And since a high privacy fence separated our yard from hers, I knew the video was recorded from our second floor, looking down onto their property.

The frame zoomed out again. The neighbor suddenly turned her head, and whoever was holding the camera yanked it away from the window. I could hear the camera-person breathing fast, excited.

But the video didn’t end. After a few seconds, the camera returned to the window and again zoomed in on the woman’s body, and the breathing grew louder and more ragged.

I shut down the recording, nauseous, head spinning. I felt the presence of something much, much heavier and darker than a hidden secret. I sensed danger.

I called my son. By then, I couldn’t breathe, could barely get out any words. “Rain, I’m gonna ask you something…and I need you to be honest with me. It’s critical, okay?”

The alarm in his voice choked me. “What is it, Mom? Are you okay?”

“Did you take video of our nextdoor neighbor?”

He paused. “Uhhh, no? What you mean?”

“Are you sure? Please don’t be ashamed to tell me if you did. It’s so, so, so important I know the truth.”

“No, Mom. I haven’t recorded anybody. I don’t even have a video camera.”

An agonized groan escaped me. Of course I knew Rain had nothing to do with it. That left only one person, and that was Dean.

A little girl’s long-buried terror and repulsion barreled back to me along with all the faces of the men who looked at me that way, watched me that way when I was a child. But the woman next door had no idea she was being watched. And neither of us knew it was my husband.

The shame…indescribable. My one mission in life was to protect my children and teach my daughters to guard themselves. How could this darkness be under our own roof? In my bed?