6. When abnormal becomes the norm

I walk into the kitchen and find both of my parents looking up at the ceiling. Naturally, I tilt my head up to see what they are concerned about but I see nothing out of the ordinary. White paint, that’s all. My father is pointing at something up in the corner where the wall meets the ceiling. “Look! Right there! Look there!” His voice sounds urgent and panicky. “You see it, it’s seeping through?!” His eyes dart back and forth between the ceiling and my mother’s face. “Uhm-hm,” she mutters “I see it,” she is very calm, her expression blank. My father turns to me “Look up there, Jarka, you see it? Look, look!” I look up once again, straining my eyes as much as I can, but still see nothing. I answer carefully “Uhm….see…what?”

“Ugh, kids!” he is agitated again. “You don’t know anything! RIGHT THEEEERRREEE! It’s water! It’s seeping through the ceiling. Oh no, no no no no, it’s getting bigger! The spot is getting huge!” he is frantically pointing at the imaginary water spot. He runs to the other side of the kitchen and points at the other corner. “Oh my God, it’s here too!” He is about to break down crying. “Come over here, you two. Look!”

My mom and I walk over, our faces tilted up the entire time. “Yes, you are right, water is seeping through.” Her calmness helps me stay composed and not scared but I know something is terribly amiss. 

Another surge of sudden panic comes over my father’s face and he darts out of the kitchen. He fumbles inside his pockets, takes out his keys to the living room, then unlocks the door with his shaky hands. Tears of helplessness rush into his eyes. He swings the door open so hard it shakes the wall on the other side. He looks up again, then slowly sits down on the couch in defeat. He buries his face in his hands, his shoulders trembling. “Oh no,” he says quietly. “They will flood us and destroy our apartment. What are we going to do?” 

I don’t dare to make a sound but my eyes keep searching the walls and the ceiling. I look at my mother. She gives me a look that urges me not to question anything at the moment. I want to understand….. if he sees something and she sees something, why can’t I see anything?

I feel my little brother standing behind me. I turn to him and whisper to his ear, “Do you see it?” He shakes his head “no” but he is only 5 years old. He may not know what we are talking about.

It is my mother who speaks out first, breaking my father out of his trance. “Joseph….Joseph, listen.  How about this? We go upstairs and make sure the neighbors are ok. Maybe they have a leaky washing machine,” she speaks very quietly, I can barely hear her. He hastily gets off the couch and shakes his head. “No! You don’t understand….what they are doing….they are trying to mess with us!” his voice grows increasingly angry. “Actually……” he changes his mind….,”you know what! I am going up there and deal with them!” He dashes to the front door, with all three of us following quickly behind him. 

He is halfway through the door and in his hastiness, his hand brushes against the door frame. He abruptly stops. “Why is the door warm?????” in one split second he completely forgets about the flood. “Come touch it!” Without a word, my mother walks up to him, touches the frame, and with a new wave of visible calmness washing over her, she answers him. “You are right, I think it’s warm.” My father starts checking all of the doors around the apartment, running back and forth, bumping into the furniture and into us in the process. He screams, “All of the doors and frames are warm!” the confusion and fear exude from every cell of his body. He grabs a butter knife and starts digging into the doors and door hinges. “I think those people put the fire inside,” droplets of sweat are forming on his forehead now. I walk up to the door, wanting to touch it for myself. “NO! Stop it!” he screams at me. “You will get electrocuted!"

It’s not possible for my father to calm down that day. He paces around the apartment for hours. He is visibly preoccupied with his thoughts that none of us have access to. He is not able to sit still for more than a few seconds before checking the ceilings or doors over and over. Once in a while he walks over to the kitchen drawer, full of utensils and knives, opens it, stares inside for a few seconds, then slams it shut. He walks over to the window and mindlessly watches the world outside. He is not present, he is not here at all. His mind is not absorbing reality around him. It fails him and he doesn’t even know it.

At the end of the day, we all feel very uneasy. My brother and I stay in our room, keep quiet for the rest of the evening before we go to bed. I finally close my eyes and try to sleep, which is very challenging after all the events of the day. I don’t know what time it is but I finally drift off…..

  I feel someone’s presence in the room. I hear a person moving around, I hear steps. I hear someone breathing and then I hear it louder, and then even louder and closer.  I slowly open my eyes and almost jump out. It takes everything out of me not to scream. It’s dark, but I see my father’s face right above mine, staring at me, not moving. His eyes are empty, creepy, distant. It’s almost like he is in a daze, on a different planet, far away….My pulse quickens and my heart is about to jump out of my chest, thumping loud. Can he hear it? Every pore of my body is on alert, freaking out,  but I summon all my strength and close my eyes again. “Please go away, please go away, please go away, please please please go away…..” my mind keeps reciting over and over. After a few more agonizing seconds, I hear him straighten his body up and finally walk away. I open my eyes again. I am nearly paralyzed with fear and I try to stay as still as possible. I watch his silhouette move to the other side of the room, to my brother’s bed. He bends over him too and stares into his sleeping face and he studies it as he did mine. I lose sense of time as every second feels like eternity. Suddenly, he is ready to leave the room.  His movements are now very fast, rushed, and hasty. He walks out  in a rush and shuts the bedroom door behind him with a huge bang. I breathe a sigh of relief but truly, no, I am not relieved at all. Our apartment is silent again but I keep listening intently for a long time afterwards.  Every little subtle sound startles me.  There is no way I can ever sleep again…what if he is going to come back?