Chapter 10: The Video

When I noticed Eddie's bedroom window open, I climbed up the drainpipe at the back of the house and jumped into his bedroom. The bedroom was dark as usual. This time Eddie had turned on a small lamp near his bed. But the light was weak. I initially thought Eddie would emerge from this darkness, but after looking around for a while I noticed the room was empty. The laptop sat on the bed, cycling through pornographic images—this time, not only were there pornographic images but also pornographic video files. The sound was turned off obviously because Eddie didn't want his dad to hear from downstairs. If Eddie wasn't in his room now he was probably downstairs with his dad. I wondered whether I should wait for Eddie to come up to his room or whether I should go downstairs to find him. If I went downstairs, how would his father react if he saw me? He'd wonder how I got into the house without going through the front door. Perhaps he'd think I was a thief.

After sitting on Eddie's bed for ten minutes looking at the pornography, I got tired and walked out to the corridor. As I arrived at the top of the stairs, I heard noise from the back of the house. The TV was turned on, spewing out all sorts of vibrant sounds. I then heard the croaky voice of an old man. It came from downstairs.

"Eddie, you have to go to bed now! It's past your bedtime."

"But I don't want to," said Eddie.

Eddie's father's voice was firm. "You've got to be in bed before ten. That's the rule."

"When the movie finishes."

Eddie probably forgot about his meeting with me. I couldn't go downstairs because I didn't want his dad seeing me. I could climb out Eddie's bedroom window and go home, where I could get some sleep, but I felt too awake to sleep. I walked back to Eddie's bedroom. Along the corridor I noticed pictures up on the wall; one was a family picture with Eddie, his mum, and his dad. The presence of the mother meant that the family picture must have been taken before the accident, the one that killed Eddie's mum. In the picture, Eddie's father looked a lot more handsome than he does now. It was as if the car accident made him older and fatter. He looked like a middle-aged man in the picture but today most people would classify him as elderly. The fire from the car accident might have wrinkled his skin.

From the top of the stairs I could see the bottom-story hallway that lead to the front door. What was interesting was how neat the bottom story was compared to the top story. The bottom story of the house contained clean carpets and walls without stains. In contrast, the top story had clothes strewn everywhere along with sporting equipment like cricket bats.

I walked back into Eddie's bedroom, thinking about the prospect of just climbing out the window and going home.

I heard screaming from downstairs. Eddie's father was shouting something, but I couldn't understand what he was saying because his words were almost completely drowned out by Eddie's screams. It was a loud, shocking scream that turned from high-pitched to low-pitch when Eddie started to loudly cry. I took a few steps down the stairs until I could peek into the dining room at the back where the television was. I couldn't see anything but I heard Eddie's crying grow louder and louder. Footsteps too seemed to grow louder and louder. Eddie was running towards the stairs.

I ran back up the stairs and into Eddie's bedroom. Behind me I could hear the little boy's quick steps as he climbed up the stairs. The bedroom was dark. The only light came from the laptop that cycled through pornographic videos. The room was messy as well, which allowed me to find a position at the corner of the room to hide. I buried myself under a pile of clothes, stuffed animals, books, and magazines. The pages on the magazines and books rustled as I moved them, but luckily the rustling noises died down as soon as Eddie entered the bedroom and jumped on the bed. His loud weeping noise was suddenly silenced when he buried his face into a pillow. He laid his arms and legs out on the bed as if he were a starfish, not clenching them or stiffening them, just letting them go. Although muffled by the pillow, he still made sobbing and sniffing noise. He tilted his head up sometimes for air and the noises increased in volume for a while, but it seemed as if he didn't want to hear himself crying because he quickly stuffed his face into the pillow again when he couldn't hold back another round of tears. At times the noise coming from the pillow sounded like a whimpering cat.

My decision to hide was instinctual. I came here to meet Eddie but I didn't expect to arrive just after a family conflict had occurred. I felt awkward as I looked at Eddie lying on his bed. I looked more carefully at the boy and noticed bright red lashes on the back of his legs, near his buttocks. I didn't know what to do. I clearly didn't want to embarrass Eddie by letting him know that I saw him cry. For as long as he and I had known each other Eddie has done a good job of projecting to me a reasonably strong image of himself. I felt something within me—a strong sense of pity.

Eddie got up from his bed. The crying had stopped. He wiped his eyes a few more times, turned around, and walked out the bedroom door. Since I knew the top story so well now I could tell where the little boy was heading by listening to his footsteps. Based on the intensity of the footsteps I could predict Eddie's location. He was heading for the bathroom. I heard the clanging of plastic against plastic—the toilet seat had been pushed up. As expected I heard the trickling of liquid. Eddie was urinating.

I got out from my hiding position and ran to the bedroom window, eager to escape. After the window was opened I put my legs outside first. It was freezing cold outside. I had to firmly plant my feet on a flat set of bricks jutting out from the wall underneath the window. After that I had to grab with my hands the drainpipe. It took me longer than usual to get just my feet out the window. I was cold and nervous. If I slipped, it was a two-story fall to the concrete pavement below, about a seven-meter fall.

"Keith."

I looked back inside the bedroom and noticed that Eddie was at the bedroom door, looking at me as I stood with the bottom half of my body outside the house and the top half of my body inside Eddie's room.

"I forgot you were coming," said Eddie, who I noticed now had no t-shirt on. "Aren't you going to come in?"

I suddenly realized that Eddie thought that I was entering his bedroom, not leaving it. I climbed back inside the room again. I suddenly realized now why Eddie was shirtless. He hopped on the exercise bike and started pedaling.

"I was just about to exercise," said Eddie. "I'll only be five or ten minutes. You can look at my pornos."

"You wanted to show me something?"

Eddie hopped off the bike. I had jogged his memory. He went to a corner of his room and pulled out a CD. I caught the CD as he casually threw it at me. When I sat on Eddie's bed I saw his pillow. My fingers pressed on the pillow, feeling its dampness.

"Your pillow's wet," I said.

Eddie was back on the exercise bike now, pedaling. "It's sweat. I've been exercising."

"What happened to your leg?"

Eddie stepped off the bike. The back of his leg was red. It looked a little like he is limping towards his bed as he walked to me. The first thing he did was switch off the porn on the laptop.

"I used to always look at porno," said Eddie. "After a while... when you think about how much porno you've seen... feels like a waste of time, you know?"

"Yeah, sort of."

"So now I only look at porno if I exercise. Makes me feel like I'm doing something good when I look at porno."

"Sort of like the carrot and the stick."

"What?"

"You know? To make a rabbit run all the time, you dangle a carrot in front of it. The porn's like the carrot."

Eddie thought about this for a while. "I guess." He paused. "Do you have your own exercise bike?"