The Watcher

At nineteen, just a few months after I had begun sharing an apartment with my sister, Sandy, I had gone out with a man I had been dating for a while.

We had gone to a club to meet some other friends at The Hole in the Wall but found it overcrowded so we left. The night was young so we decided to pick up some food at the White Castle on Journal Square. At a store near by, we picked up a six-pack of Budweiser and a couple of packs of cigarettes. We parked near the river in downtown Jersey City. We ate in silence, drank  our cold beer and watched the lights of  New York City's Twin Tower's lights blink bright reflections on the Hudson River.

We made love in the back, drank a few more beers and after several hours, my boyfriend and I made plans for the following weekend. He then dropped me off at home, kissed me at the door and I climbed up the four flights to the fifth floor apartment I shared with my sister on Washington Avenue in the small mile square city of Hoboken.

I was tired and a bit drunk so I climbed the stairs slowly. When I reached the second flight, I heard the outside door open. It rattled loudly, like someone who was unaware of how the door opens easily even if it appeared heavy and solid. I thought it might be my father coming in late, probably drunk himself. He was saved from climbing stairs and only had to let himself in his first floor apartment. I looked down through the banister to make sure it was him.

Strange blue eyes greeted me. I gulped.

A guy with long hair, a frazzled unkempt beard, and eyes deep glassy blue was staring right at me. I unfroze, taking a deep breath of air. I began running up the stairs. I heard him running up behind me. Loose change and what sounded like keys jingled in his pockets. It got louder as he was getting closer. I picked up speed as I rummaged in my bag for my keys. I found them and picked out the right one. As I reached the top flight of stairs, I placed it in the key hole. Out of breath, I forced myself not to panic. I tried to concentrate on opening the door but my hand shook and I could not get the key in. I could not call out for my sister or her live-in boyfriend because she was out for the night. I inhaled deeply and could barely breathe. Panic was stirring up my asthma. I kept stabbing at the key hole. The stranger was gaining on me. I was trapped.

"Sandy! Sandy, it's me, let me in!" I cried out for my sister who was not home in pretense that I was not cornered alone.

I did not know if my father was home and I knew that screaming would wake him or the neighbors, but I was quite aware how fast someone could be attacked, even killed, before anyone could reach me, if they bothered to investigate during it.

“Hey!”

Startled, I turned to look at the man standing near the end of the stairs on my floor. He glared at me with bloodshot eyes. I believed he was high. His long stringy brown hair appeared unwashed. He wore a blue and white plaid shirt and dirty blue work pants. Just as I got the key in, he grabbed my arm and I turned, placing my back against the wall. He let go and stepped back, hands in the air, leaning on the banister. I imagined pushing him over if it came to that. I placed my key, facing out, between my fore and middle fingers. I would use it to protect myself if I had to.

“Hey, I just want to talk to you that’s all.” He said, clear blue eyes blinking rapidly.

“I don’t know you, what do you want?”

“Just talk with me a minute, that’s all.”

“About?”

“I saw you with your boyfriend.” He slurred, “I saw what you were doing in the van.”

“And?” I answered. Oh My God! Is this man going to rape I thought.

“Well, just wondered if you wanted to hang out.” He added. “You know just talk.”

Swallowing hard, I tried not to appear too frightened. I had to figure a way out of this quickly.

“Well, I can’t talk now. And I can’t invite you in. My sister and her boyfriend would not be happy with that.” I said. I hoped he believed that there were people inside. "I am not sure what we could talk about and I don’t know you, but if you give me your number, I could call you later and, just not sure what time later. I would give you my sister’s number but she would get mad if I did without asking and I don’t want to wake her.” I rambled on, then took a deep breath.

I loved that I was able to think quickly at times. Even when I had a slow physical reaction to things, many thoughts raced in my head. He stood there, contemplating what I said. He went into his back pocket. I backed up. He pulled out his ID license and showed it to me. He was a cop. I exhaled though remained guarded. I knew what some cops could be like. I took his license, looked at it and looked at him. I tried memorizing his name.

“Don’t worry.” He said, flipping his long hair over his shoulder. “It’s real.”

“What do you want with me, you don’t even know me?” I repeated.

“I have been watching you for a while. I see you coming in and out of here. I was watching you tonight.” He said. “You should be careful who you spend time with, and I just had to talk to you.”

“You could have waited to talk to me during the day sometime.”

“I wanted to catch you alone.” He said. “I only saw you in the evenings, when I was out patrolling. I was off tonight and saw you get in the van with that guy. He’s married, you know, your friend.”

I became more frightened. I knew my lover was married. That’s what made it easy for me to be with him. No commitment. No ties. Screwed up morals. To know that a Jersey cop was stalking me was a nightmare. You never knew what they wanted. Even the one cop I had briefly dated once was not so cool. He was a pothead who often stopped kids to frisk them for their pot and smoke it himself. Another cop spent his time beating up black kids. So yeah, I did not trust cops. And here was another one.

“OK, got something to write with?” I asked him.

“Yeah.” I said. I looked inside my bag, glad I always carried a pen. I grabbed a pack of cigarettes and pulled out the aluminum paper inside. “Go ahead. Give me your number, and your name.”

He gave me his number and I repeated it as I wrote it down.

“Call me. OK?’‘

“OK. Bye now.” I hoped he was leaving.

He nodded his head and began to turn toward the stairs. He started skipping down the steps as I watched making sure he was not turning back. I opened the lock and went in closing the door when I heard him close the door downstairs.

Being stalked is terrifying and finding out can come quite as a shock.  Soon after that episode, Sandy informed me that she wanted to move to Union City to be near her boyfriend. I went to stay with an aunt on Adams Street. I never heard from him again after I moved away and it took a long time before I stopped looking behind me.