Did You See That?

The first time Eli saw the man, we were eating takeout on the floor because our table had collapsed three days earlier.

Not metaphorically. One of the legs had snapped clean off.

"I told you not to sit on it," I said.

"You sat on it too."

"I sat carefully."

"You sat like a normal person."

"Exactly. You sat like a man with no regard for structural integrity."

Eli laughed and reached for another piece of chicken.

Then he stopped.

He looked toward the window.

"Jonah."

"Hmm?"

"Do you see that?"

I looked over.

There was nobody there. Just the reflection of our living room in the glass and, beyond it, the parking lot.

"See what?"

"The guy."

I squinted.

"There's a tree."

"Not the tree. Next to it."

There was a pause.

Then I said, "Oh, yeah. Him."

Eli looked at me.

"You're lying."

"I know."

He threw a napkin at me.

That was how it started.

At first, it was easy to joke about.

A man across the street.

A woman standing outside the grocery store.

Someone at the end of the hallway.

Eli would notice them, point them out, and I'd see nothing.

He never seemed confused about what he was seeing. That was what made it strange.

He was always certain.

"I saw him."

"I know."

"He was standing right there."

"Okay."

"I'm serious."

"I know you're serious."

Sometimes he'd get annoyed with me.

Sometimes embarrassed.

Once, after I'd told him there was nobody in the elevator, he stared at the closed doors for a few seconds and said, "You don't have to believe me."

"I do believe you."

"You don't."

"I believe that you saw someone."

"That isn't the same thing."

I didn't know what to say.

So I changed the subject.

It worked.

Usually.

The man came back more than anyone else.

Eli saw him across the street.

Then outside the pharmacy.

Then near the bus stop.

Once, he said the man had been standing at the end of our street for almost an hour.

"What does he look like?"

"Normal."

"That narrows it down."

"Dark hair. Gray jacket."

"Anything else?"

"No."

"That's not very useful."

"He's not doing anything."

"Then why are you worried?"

Eli looked at me.

"Because he's always there."

I laughed.

"Maybe he's just unemployed."

He didn't laugh.

A week later, Eli called me from the kitchen.

"Jonah?"

"What?"

"Come here."

I found him standing by the window.

The curtains were open.

He pointed outside.

"There."

I looked.

A man stood beside the building across the street.

Gray jacket.

Dark hair.

I stared for a second.

"I don't see anyone."

Eli didn't move.

"He's looking at us."

"Maybe he's looking at the building."

"He's looking at this window."

I stepped closer.

Still empty.

"You sure?"

"Yes."

I opened the window.

Cold air came in.

Eli grabbed my sleeve.

"What are you doing?"

"Checking."

I leaned out.

The parking lot was empty.

When I turned around, Eli was still staring through the glass.

"He was there."

"I know."

"He was."

"I know."

He looked at me.

"You don't have to keep saying that."

I closed the window.

"Come on. Let's eat."

He followed me.

Neither of us mentioned the man again.

After that, Eli started closing the curtains at night.

I didn't notice at first.

Then one evening I came home and found every curtain in the apartment shut.

"Why is it so dark?"

Eli was on the couch.

"It's late."

"It's six."

"Still."

I opened one.

He looked up immediately.

"Don't."

I turned around.

"What?"

"Just leave them."

I smiled.

"You're becoming eighty years old."

"Jonah."

Something in his voice made me close them.

"Fine."

He looked relieved.

The first time I saw the man, it was raining.

Eli and I were walking home from the store.

He stopped so suddenly I nearly walked into him.

"What?"

He pointed across the street.

The man stood underneath an awning.

Gray jacket.

Dark hair.

Looking toward us.

I looked at Eli.

Then at the man.

This time, I could see him.

"That's him," Eli said.

"I know."

The man started walking.

Eli grabbed my arm.

"Let's go."

We crossed the street.

The man continued in the opposite direction.

I watched him disappear around a corner.

Eli was breathing quickly.

"You saw him."

"Yeah."

"You actually saw him."

"Yeah."

He looked almost disappointed.

I frowned.

"What?"

He shook his head.

We walked home.

Neither of us spoke until we were inside.

I locked the door.

Then I looked through the peephole.

Empty hallway.

I locked the deadbolt too.

Eli watched me.

"You don't have to do that."

"Do what?"

"Check."

I looked at the door.

"I was just making sure."

"Okay."

I took off my coat.

The evening passed.

By midnight, I'd almost forgotten about it.

Then someone knocked.

Three soft knocks.

Neither of us moved.

Knock.

Knock.

Eli looked at me.

I whispered, "Who's there?"

Silence.

I walked to the door.

"Don't open it."

I looked through the peephole.

Nobody.

I opened the door.

The hallway was empty.

I stepped outside.

"Jonah."

I turned.

Eli was standing in our doorway.

"What?"

He didn't answer.

I closed the door.

Neither of us slept particularly well that night.

The next morning, I found Eli standing in the kitchen.

"You hear that?"

I listened.

Nothing.

"What?"

He frowned.

"Never mind."

I poured coffee.

A few seconds later, he said, "Someone's outside."

I looked toward the window.

"Who?"

"The man."

I almost smiled.

Then I stopped myself.

"Where?"

"Across the street."

I looked.

The street was empty.

"Eli."

"I know what you're going to say."

"What?"

"That there's nobody there."

He turned back to his coffee.

"Forget it."

I didn't.

I looked out the window again.

Still empty.

Two nights later, I woke up because I heard the front door move.

A soft click.

Then another.

I sat up.

"Eli?"

No answer.

I walked into the living room.

He was asleep on the couch.

The front door was closed.

I stood there for a moment.

Then I checked the lock.

Locked.

I went back to bed.

In the morning, I found the chain hanging loose.

I stared at it.

Eli came into the room.

"What?"

I pointed.

"You didn't put that on?"

He looked at the chain.

"I don't think so."

I laughed.

"Good. So we're both losing it."

He didn't laugh.

He looked toward the door.

Then he said, "I didn't touch it."

I believed him.

At least, I think I did.

A few days passed without anything happening.

That almost made it worse.

Eli stopped mentioning the man.

I stopped asking.

We went to work.

We ate.

We argued about dishes.

The table remained broken.

One Saturday, Eli bought a replacement leg and spent three hours trying to fix it.

"You're making it worse," I told him.

"It can't get worse."

"You've said that about several things."

He looked at me.

"Like what?"

I thought about it.

"Nothing."

He smiled.

For the first time in weeks, he looked normal.

That night, we watched a movie.

Halfway through, Eli got up for water.

I heard the kitchen tap.

Then silence.

Then:

"Jonah?"

"Yeah?"

"Come here."

I paused the movie.

When I entered the kitchen, he was standing by the back door.

"What?"

He pointed.

"The handle."

I looked.

The door was shut.

"What about it?"

"It moved."

"When?"

"Just now."

I stared at it.

"Maybe the wind."

"The windows are closed."

I tried the handle.

Locked.

"See?"

Eli nodded.

"Yeah."

I returned to the couch.

A few seconds later, he came in.

"Did you lock the front door?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

I looked at him.

"You're asking me now?"

He shrugged.

"I forgot."

I smiled.

"Sure."

The next time I saw the man, I was alone.

I was taking out the trash when I noticed him standing across the street.

Gray jacket.

Dark hair.

Same as before.

I stopped.

He looked directly at me.

I stood there for several seconds.

Then he walked away.

I went inside.

Eli was sitting on the couch.

"There was someone outside."

He looked up.

"Who?"

"The man."

He stared at me.

"What man?"

"The one you've been seeing."

He didn't answer.

I waited.

"You saw him?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"Across the street."

He got up and looked through the curtains.

The street was empty.

"How long ago?"

"Thirty seconds."

He looked at me.

Then back outside.

"Okay."

"That's it?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know."

He let the curtain fall.

"Maybe you should stop looking for him."

I laughed.

"I wasn't looking for him."

Eli didn't answer.

That night, I closed the curtains.

I checked the front door.

Then the back door.

I went to bed.

At 2:17, I heard footsteps in the hallway outside our apartment.

Slow.

Then a pause.

Three knocks.

I sat up.

Eli was awake.

We looked at each other.

"Did you hear that?"

"Yes."

The footsteps moved away.

I got out of bed.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm checking."

"Jonah."

I opened the front door.

The hallway was empty.

At the far end, the elevator doors were closing.

I ran toward them.

"Wait!"

They opened again.

Nobody inside.

I stepped in.

Pressed the lobby button.

When the doors opened downstairs, the building entrance was empty.

I went outside.

Rain tapped against the pavement.

I looked across the street.

Nothing.

Then I saw someone at the corner.

Gray jacket.

Dark hair.

Walking away.

"Hey!"

The man stopped.

For a second, I thought he turned toward me.

Then he disappeared around the corner.

I went after him.

By the time I reached the corner, there was no one there.

I stood in the rain.

Then I called the police.

They came twenty minutes later.

They searched the street and the building.

They checked the doors and asked me what the man looked like.

I told them.

"Do you know him?"

"No."

"Did he threaten you?"

"No."

"Did he speak to you?"

"No."

One of them looked at the other.

"Okay."

I hated the way he said it.

When they left, Eli was sitting on the stairs.

"You called them?"

"Yeah."

He nodded.

"Okay."

I sat beside him.

"Do you think I was wrong?"

He was quiet.

Then he said, "I don't know."

That was all.

I looked at him.

He didn't look back.

After that, neither of us talked about the man.

We kept the curtains closed.

We checked the locks before bed.

Sometimes I woke up and couldn't remember whether I'd locked the door.

Sometimes Eli couldn't either.

Once, I found the front door unlocked.

Neither of us admitted to having touched it.

Another night, we heard someone walking upstairs.

We sat quietly and listened.

The footsteps stopped.

Then started again.

We waited.

Nothing happened.

Eventually Eli said, "It's probably nothing."

I looked at him.

He looked embarrassed.

"What?"

"Nothing."

He smiled.

"Go to sleep."

So I did.

Three nights later, I woke up and saw someone standing in the hallway.

I couldn't move.

He was only a few feet away.

Gray jacket.

Dark hair.

His face was turned slightly away from me.

I reached for Eli.

"Eli."

He woke.

"What?"

I pointed.

"There."

He sat up.

Looked.

Then looked at me.

"Jonah."

"What?"

"There's nobody there."

I stared at the hallway.

The man was gone.

I got out of bed.

I walked to the hallway.

Nothing.

I checked the bathroom.

Empty.

The kitchen.

Empty.

The front door was locked.

I checked the curtains.

Closed.

I came back.

Eli was sitting on the edge of the bed.

Neither of us spoke.

Then he said:

"Did you sleep at all yesterday?"

I looked at him.

"What?"

He shook his head.

I lay back down.

Neither of us slept.

The following evening, I came home to find the curtains open.

I stopped in the doorway.

Eli was standing at the window.

"Why are those open?"

He didn't answer.

I walked closer.

Across the street, a man stood beneath the streetlight.

Gray jacket.

Dark hair.

Looking toward us.

I felt my stomach drop.

"Eli."

He turned.

"What?"

I pointed.

He looked through the glass.

His face went pale.

"Jonah."

"What?"

"Close them."

"You see him?"

Eli stared outside.

"I said close them."

I pulled the curtains shut.

The room went dark.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then Eli said quietly:

"He wasn't there."

I looked at him.

"What?"

"The man."

"You just told me to close the curtains."

"I know."

"Why?"

He didn't answer.

I opened the curtains again.

The street was empty.

I closed them.

Locked the window.

Then I checked the front door.

Eli watched me.

I checked it again.

This time, he didn't say anything.

That night, we left the curtains closed.

The apartment was quiet.

No footsteps.

No knocks.

Nothing.

Just the refrigerator humming in the kitchen.

I lay awake for a long time.

At some point, I heard Eli get up.

He walked to the window.

I listened.

He didn't open the curtains.

He just stood there.

A minute passed.

Then another.

Then he came back to bed.

Neither of us said anything.

The next morning, I found him in the kitchen.

He was making coffee.

I stood in the doorway.

"Did you sleep?"

He turned.

"Not really."

"Me neither."

He poured a cup.

"I saw him last night."

I waited.

"When you pulled the curtains open. I saw him."

I didn't say anything.

He took a sip.

"I don't know if he was there."

The room was quiet.

I could hear the refrigerator humming.

"Neither do I," I said.

He nodded.

We didn't talk about it again.

Three weeks later, I was taking out the trash.

It was raining again.

I walked to the dumpster and threw the bag in.

When I turned around, I saw him.

Gray jacket.

Dark hair.

Standing at the end of the alley.

Watching me.

I didn't move.

Neither did he.

We stood there for a long moment.

Then I heard footsteps behind me.

Eli.

He stopped beside me.

"What are you looking at?"

I pointed.

He followed my gaze.

The alley was empty.

He looked at me.

Then he looked back at the spot where the man had been.

"I don't see anything," he said.

I kept staring.

"Neither do I."

He was quiet for a moment.

Then he asked, "Did you see something?"

I turned to him.

His face was calm.

Patient.

Waiting.

I opened my mouth.

Then I closed it.

"Probably nothing," I said.

He looked at me for a moment.

"Probably."

We walked back inside.

I locked the door.

He watched me.

Then he locked it again.