Friday Night

I sit down with my coffee and turn on the television. As I do so, I look up at the clock and it stares back at me telling me that it is 10:49pm. The news on T.V. is gloomy as it always is these days. There has been another uprising in the Middle East with the Shia majority in this particular country protesting against the Sunni rulers. A car bomb was detonated earlier today in Afghanistan and the victims include a local politician and his family as well as a teacher walking home. Another European country is facing a crisis and the government has called an emergency meeting. Story after story I am being told bad news or sad news.

I channel surf through cartoons to sport to comedy to movies and around again. Nothing is picking up my interest, I seem to be in another world clicking the next channel button over and over. I am aware that my finger is touching the next channel button like a robot, but I leave it to do this wonderful job as it keeps me distracted for precious seconds. I think to myself not long now.

I look up at the clock and it tells me that I am a further 7 minutes ahead from when I last looked at it, the time reads to me 10:56pm. I think to myself only 4 minutes to go. I look around the room for a distraction. I see the newspaper I picked up from the shop this morning but continue my quest in search of something to keep me busy. I come across a magazine and think that is one I have not seen before. I get up from the sofa and walk over to the side table where the magazine is lying. I see it is a newspaper magazine and think to myself “that will do”.

I pick it up and return to the sofa. As I settle down I take another sip of my drink. I return to the magazine and flick through the pages looking for a story or article that will grab my attention and distract me for more precious seconds or even minutes. I turn a  page and come across a crossword puzzle and decide to spend a minute seeing if I know any of the answer’s. This keeps me distracted for a few minutes before I realise I have not looked at the clock. I stop looking at the crossword and glance up to the clock. It is now 11:01pm.

I feel my heart pounding, I can hear every breath I take. I look around the room, looking for something, no, looking for somebody. I drop the magazine on the floor and stand up. I notice the glass I have been drinking from is empty. I walk around the sofa and face the front door. I look at the front door with hope, just waiting. Expecting. Time passes as I stay standing in the same place. Staring at the front door. Wanting it to open but it remains closed and still. I remain where I am like a statue. I just wait and wait but nothing changes. The room is silent apart from my heartbeat and breathing. It is probably what I imagine ‘time standing still’ is. I remain in this state what seem like an eternity.

Suddenly there is a sound. I look at the front door with hope and expectation but it does not move. I turn around looking around the room for the source of the sound. Then abruptly I stop as I see movement. It’s somebody coming down the stairs. Each footstep making a sound. It is my wife of course. She approaches me with a saddened expression. I look back and ask her if she is ok? She replies, “I am fine darling, it’s you I am worried about, why are you standing here this late”.

  I try to think quickly, but I have nothing and am forced to say, “you know why”. She looks at me with a disconcerted expression then says “ How long can this go on?”. I just look at her with no explanation but a shrug. “I can’t help it, I am sure the door will open and all will be ok”.

  My wife takes the few steps that separates us and stands directly in front of me. She looks at me, staring at me straight into the back of my eyes. She has sad eyes. “This can’t go on. Every Friday evening you stay up waiting for the door to open at 11pm. It never does darling. It hurts me too but it has been over 3 years since Samantha went out with her boyfriend and she has never been heard from since or found. We need to move on, she is not coming home, she is gone. The police keep telling us we need to move on with the next stage of our life. I am sorry darling, I miss her too but we have each other and we need to be strong together.” My wife steps in and puts her arms around me. I crumple in her loving grasp, tears start flooding from my eyes. Her arms wrap around me tighter. All I can do is hold her and cry. I manage a whimper then “I know but I am sure if I wait, my baby will return home. She was only 17, she was liked by everyone. I can’t see why anyone would do anything to her, I just miss her so much”.

  My wife hugs me hard. I return the hug and we stand there, near the front door holding each other. Crying together remembering yet again the lonely 3 years since our daughter went out for a few hours with her boyfriend and never returned home.