He took quick paces to his window. Looked out of the window, made sure no one suspicious was standing in his neighborhood. He then pulled the curtain close. He walked back to his recliner just as quickly, and sat down. He got up after 40 seconds and started pacing again in his room. From the window to the door, exactly 21 steps. It can’t be more it can’t be less. It can’t, he had counted them over and over.
He started walking to his window again, then it hit him like a strong wave at the beach. A relief. He walked back to his recliner, slowly this time. He lied back and closed his eyes and smiled. It was these few seconds he enjoyed in his very stressful day. He had paranoia. He knew. Even ate the medicines as prescribed, after fighting off his doubt. But the drugs hardly take the edge of his paranoia then there are these few seconds, usually after his daily dose of medications where he has a clarity of himself when he is not paranoid. His body is deflated of any doubt.
The calmness stays with him for maybe 4 minutes. On a lucky day it goes up to 10 minutes. It’s these minutes when Charlie goes down the memory lane. Fondly remembering his wife, daughter, two sons and her. They are all alive. Just not a part of his life. They tried to take care of him when he was first diagnosed. But things soon got out of hand. He grew suspicious of his own family, so they admitted him in a facility. Charlie escaped and has been living alone since. Memories of her, keeping him barely sane.
As the seconds ticked by he knew he was losing hold over his sanity. It has been 10 years, a sickness grows within him. A sickness he believes he brought it upon himself by his own ugly deeds and the curse of a righteous woman. He looked at the clock and remembered her sweet angelic face.
Farah, was her name. He remembered the day she had walked into his office, with a stack of papers in one hand a bouquet of flowers in the other. He had his nose stuck to the report he was trying to read before the big meeting and Farah walked in with her low heels clicking against his cabin floor. He was quite annoyed at the disturbance and raised his head up just as she was sliding the stack of papers on his desk. “Who are you?” he spat out. Timidly she looked away quite embarrassed that he had already forgotten her.
She lowered her head and started moving toward the empty vase in the corner and replied “Your secretary, Sir.” He didn’t quite remember and honestly didn’t care either. “Do you think, you can do your work quietly so that I can get mine done?” he barked.
She nodded, quickly filled out the vase with the flowers and walked out of his office. That was how Farah had met Charlie. Not the best of the start and it never got better. He wished he had not seen that timidness in her eyes the first day, maybe then he would not have been filled with this quench to prey upon her.
Days became months Farah continued to remain his secretary for 7 years. Through the years he had learnt her name and more. It started with one late night project that he had to work for. He had ordered Farah to not leave that night. She was afraid of him but was married to her job due to desperation and poverty. She didn’t raise any questions merely nodded her head and continued to work late into the night. He gave scribbles of plans to type out, half of which were beyond legibility and her understanding. Somewhere after 2 a.m. he shouted out asking for the typed reports. She stumbled around and went to his office with the typed reports.
He went through the reports and there were mistakes, many mistakes. He shouted his gut out to her “What the hell is this? You call this a report? This rubbish. Go type it out correctly. I want it in 15 minutes or God save your soul, Farah.” She looked at him in horror. Not because of the loudness but he was asking her of an impossible task, it had taken all about three hours to type out everything that he asked her to rework on in ten minutes. She wanted to tell him it was impossible. But as always, she didn’t find her voice. She gathered the papers he threw at his feet and scampered out of his room and to her desk.
She typed that day like her life depended on it, and it did. After 15 minutes Farah had not heard him calling yet, she concluded, perhaps, he forgot about it. She didn’t waste any second and continued typing. After 10 minutes she felt him. His presence made the hair behind her neck stand. She was used to being in front of him, but this was new, scary. He came closer. Agonizingly slow. He kept his hand on her shoulder. Although her shoulders were covered they felt the coldness of his bare hands.
A single tear was shed that night as Charlie did, what could only be called as inhumane act. And after he was done, he buttoned up. “An hour Farah, do not make any mistakes this time” he said softly, as if, what he did to her was a punishment that he painfully endured.
It was only the beginning, what started as a punishment and overflow of frustration later turned into a sick ritual that Charlie bestowed upon her after every meeting, late night projects, every successful deal or even lunch.
For seven years she remained his slave, in every possible way. He commanded her life. And yet there were very few words spoken between them, at least none from her. After seven long years Charlie had started to believe that she enjoyed it, why else would a person endure it for so long. He had started to see her as his possession, one that he was no longer worried about losing.
Every night, leaving out some rather predatory nights, he went back to his wife and sons. Loving them just as he did seven years ago. Nothing had changed. He was quite amazed at how everything fit so perfectly in his life.
In between this seven years he had noticed one day that Farah was carrying a bulging stomach, he called her one day and asked, “Are you pregnant?” She nodded. “Is it mine?” After a pause she nodded again. “Did you tell anyone?” she shook her head vigorously, almost scared. “Do you want to keep it?” She looked up at him with hopeful eyes and nodded again.
It was perhaps the first time Charlie had seen any emotion from Farah that was directed towards him. Maybe that emotion took him by surprise, why else would someone in their right mind agree to such a request. He dismissed her with his hand, not knowing how his life would turn with that decision.
Charlie walked into his office one morning. Taken aback by the sound of the crying bundle on his desk. He looked around. That’s when he saw her timidly standing next to his open window. She looked at him. But today with her timidness he saw resignation. She looked at the crying bundle once again as tears flow down her eyes. She said nothing more. Turned her head, climbed over and jumped off the window, from the eighth floor. That is how Charlie ended up with a crying bundle, Leah, a letter and a life of regret.
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