Men With Funny Socks
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The next morning, I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing. It was a number that wasn’t in my contacts list and when I answered it there were no voices on the other end but instead just static. So much for being able to talk with someone who knows what’s going on!
The call ended after about thirty seconds so I tried calling back again only this time all I got was an automated message saying “You have reached the voicemail box of…” followed by some numbers which didn’t make any sense at all.
Then, as if things weren’t weird enough already, I heard footsteps coming down the hallway from outside my room. This is where everything gets really strange because not one person came into my bedroom or even knocked on the door before they opened it.
They simply walked right past me without giving me a second glance and went out through the front entrance like nothing had happened. But here’s something else: once they left, I could hear them walking away until their steps faded completely away.
And then… silence. Just absolute, complete silence except for the faint sounds of birds chirping in the distance. That’s how quiet it was now. There were no more footsteps, no people talking, no cars driving by, no dogs barking—nothing. Not even the wind rustling through the trees disturbed the stillness.
In fact, the only thing moving around anywhere nearby was a small flock of pigeons flying overhead.
I sat there alone in bed staring off into space while trying to figure out what exactly had just happened. Was I dreaming? Did I imagine all that stuff with the phone call and the footprints? Maybe I’m losing my mind. Or maybe there are ghosts haunting this place.
Either way, the whole experience felt very surreal and unsettling. At least I knew I hadn’t imagined seeing those two men wearing funny socks. If anything, I’d say I saw them twice. Once when I first arrived and another time yesterday afternoon.
Now you might be wondering why I would remember such a trivial detail. Well, let me tell ya—it’s because I’ve never seen anyone wear shoes like theirs before. Ever. Seriously, ever. You know how sometimes you see someone walk by and think to yourself, “That guy has pretty cool sneakers”?
Yeah well, these guys’ feet looked like they belonged to a pair of clowns. Their toes were ridiculously long, almost reaching the bottom edge of their shoes; each toe was different lengths too. One foot had three big toes whereas the other only had two.
And both pairs of shoes were made entirely out of red fabric. What kind of footwear looks like that?! It’s crazy! Anyway, I continued sitting there in bed thinking over every little detail I remembered from last night. After a while though, I started feeling hungry so I decided to get up and go downstairs for breakfast.
When I stepped out onto the porch, I noticed that the sky was looking unusually dark. It reminded me of storm clouds rolling in during late springtime. As far as I could tell, it seemed like we were getting ready to have our own personal thunderstorm.
I took a look towards the east and realized that the sun was nowhere near set yet. Which meant it must have been about noon. My stomach growled loudly as I thought back to the delicious pancakes I ate at the diner earlier. I couldn’t wait to dig in again!
“Hey!” I shouted toward the house. “Are you guys making breakfast?”
There was no response. All I could hear were the sounds of crickets chirping in the distance along with a few crows squawking in the treetops above. A couple minutes later, I finally spotted movement inside the kitchen window.
Someone was standing behind it peeking out at me. When he/she turned around, I recognized him immediately. He was the same man I met yesterday. His name was Mr. Smith (or whatever his real name was). I guess I should probably start referring to him as “Mr. Smith”.
He smiled warmly at me and said, “Good morning.”
“Oh hey,” I replied. “How’re you doing today?”
His smile grew wider and he responded, “Very good thanks. How about yourself?”
“Great actually. Thanks for asking. By the way, do you happen to know where the bathroom is?”
“Right this way please,” he said.
We headed straight upstairs and entered the master bedroom. I quickly found the restroom and washed my hands. While I was drying them on the towel hanging on the wall, I asked Mr. Smith, “So uhm… can I ask you something?”
“Of course. Ask away.”
“Well I don’t mean to pry or anything but… did you see the two men who came by last night?”
The corners of his mouth curled upwards ever-so-slightly. “Yes, I did. Why?”
“Do you know where they live?”
“No, unfortunately. However, I believe I may have an idea.”
My eyes widened in surprise. “Really?!”
“Indeed. Would you care to accompany me downstairs?”
“Sure thing.”
After wiping my wet hands dry on my jeans, I followed Mr. Smith downstairs and into the living room. The moment we walked through the front door, I instantly smelled bacon cooking in the oven. There was also coffee brewing next to the fireplace.
In addition, there were several plates stacked high with freshly baked muffins, bagels, and scones. On top of everything else, there was even a large platter filled with sliced fruit. I was completely blown away. This was easily one of the most lavish breakfasts I’ve ever eaten.
As soon as I finished eating, I thanked Mr. Smith for the meal. Then I excused myself and went outside to take a stroll down the driveway. Just then, I heard footsteps approaching from behind. I slowly turned around to find Mr. Smith walking toward me. He extended his hand and introduced himself once more: “Hello, I am Mr. Smith. Thank you so much for joining us this morning.”
“Hi Mr. Smith,” I said politely. “It’s nice meeting you.”
He nodded his head in reply and added, “Likewise.”
Once we reached the end of the drive, I asked him if he knew where those two men lived. To which he replied, “I’m afraid not. But I would be happy to show you the way.”
“Thanks,” I said gratefully.
Together, we began heading westward across the road. We passed by the local elementary school first and then crossed the street. Soon after, we arrived at what appeared to be some sort of community center.
Upon entering, we saw a small group of people gathered together in the main lobby. They all wore matching blue shirts emblazoned with the words “Lutherville Volunteer Fire Department”. One guy stood out amongst the rest. He had short brown hair and a goatee.
He looked to be in his mid-thirties. After spotting us, he approached us and greeted Mr. Smith by saying, “Good morning sir. And how are you today?”
“Fine thank you,” Mr. Smith answered. “And yourself?”
“Not bad at all. You wouldn’t happen to know anyone named ‘John’ by any chance?”
“Unfortunately, I don’t. Do you mind telling me why you asked?”
“That’s quite alright,” John said. “You see, I just got off work and I wanted to grab a bite before going home. So when I left the firehouse, I decided to stop here instead. That’s when I overheard someone mention your name.”
“Interesting,” Mr. Smith remarked.
“What is?” I asked curiously.
“Nothing really,” he replied. “Just that I haven’t seen you around town lately.”
“I’ll admit, it has been a while since I last visited Lutherville. When was the last time you saw me?”
“A couple months ago maybe? It wasn’t too long after you moved in.”
Mr. Smith furrowed his brows in confusion. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. I remember seeing you over at the grocery store. You bought some milk and eggs right?”
“Ah yes. Of course. Now that you mention it…”
“Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the breakfast,” John continued. “By the way, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Thank you again for inviting me,” I said. “But I must decline. I need to get back to my apartment now.”
“Alright then. Take care,” John said.
“Same to you,” Mr. Smith replied.
Then we both returned to our separate ways. Once I made it inside, I immediately called up my landlord. As expected, she informed me that the police had already come by earlier. Apparently, they took pictures of the scene and interviewed her about the incident.
She told me that the cops seemed very interested in the two men who came by yesterday evening. However, their investigation was still ongoing.
***
The following day, I received another call from Ms. Jones. This time, however, I noticed something different about her voice. Instead of sounding like a stern businesswoman, it sounded almost playful.
For example, whenever she spoke, there was always an underlying tone of laughter mixed within. Furthermore, every few seconds, I could hear her taking deep breaths while trying desperately to hold back giggles.
At first, I thought nothing of it. But eventually, curiosity got the best of me. I decided to ask her straight-out whether or not she was okay. To which she responded by laughing hysterically. Then, without warning, the line suddenly cut off.
Over the next week, I tried calling Ms. Jones numerous times only to receive no response whatsoever. Eventually, I gave up and stopped bothering. The whole ordeal was starting to become rather frustrating. Not to mention, I couldn’t help but wonder what exactly happened between her and those two guys. Was she hurt badly? Or worse yet… did they rape her?
After several days of waiting, I finally received word from the police department. According to them, the case involving the attack on Ms. Jones was officially closed due to a lack of evidence. In other words, they were unable to identify either of the suspects. Therefore, according to Maryland law enforcement officials, there were absolutely zero reasons for me to file a complaint.
To make matters even more complicated, the police also informed me that they had no intention of pursuing further investigations into the matter. This meant that this entire thing should have never occurred in the first place. Unfortunately, as far as I was concerned, the damage had already been done. My reputation among the locals had taken a severe hit. All thanks to these two assholes.
As for the events leading up to the assault itself, I had little recollection of anything. Everything started happening so quickly that it felt like I blacked out for a moment. And although I knew I’d heard their voices clearly enough, I couldn’t recall ever making eye contact with them.
Nor did I recognize their faces. Yet somehow, I managed to escape unscathed. Although I’m certain that if things had gone differently, I would’ve ended up dead.
In retrospect, I realized how lucky I truly was. After all, I could easily be lying somewhere cold and lifeless right now. If not for the fact that I happened to stumble upon Mr. Smith, everything might have turned out much worse than I initially anticipated.
And that brings us to today. A year later, I can safely say that I am fully recovered. Aside from occasional headaches and dizziness, I feel perfectly fine. Though admittedly, I do wish I could forget the entire experience altogether.
Because despite knowing that I survived, I still find myself feeling terribly guilty. Especially considering that one of the assailants died during the altercation. While the other guy escaped unharmed, he will most certainly spend many years behind bars.
All throughout the past twelve months, I kept the details of my encounter locked away deep inside. Only revealing them to a select few people close to me. Including my parents, friends, and my therapist. Even though I know full well that none of them are responsible for what transpired. Still, I just couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone else.
For obvious reasons, I chose to keep quiet until recently. So that’s why I never mentioned any of this to you before. That is unless you count the brief conversation we had when you asked me about my family background. But given that I barely knew you back then, it hardly counts.
Besides, I wasn’t entirely sure how you’d react once I explained the situation. Perhaps you wouldn’t believe me at all. Maybe you would think I was exaggerating. Or worst of all… maybe you’d laugh.
Regardless, I suppose I’ll take comfort in the fact that I’m finally telling someone. Someone who actually cares. Who understands what I’ve gone through. Most importantly, who has the patience to listen to my story without judging me harshly.
I guess that makes you pretty special, doesn’t it?
⁂
“What’s wrong?”
It took me a second to realize where I was. Sitting across from a familiar face. One whom I hadn’t seen in quite some time. It was him. Him again. The man I met last night. The same one whose name I didn’t catch. As usual, his eyes remained fixed on mine. His gaze is unwavering. Unblinking.
He seemed to notice my confusion. “You’re looking at me funny,” he said, breaking our stare.
“No, I…”
The words caught in my throat. For a moment, I couldn’t remember what I wanted to say. Then suddenly, it came rushing back to me. Like an avalanche of memories crashing down around me. Memories which I thought long buried. Buried beneath layers of dust and debris.
But here they were. Right in front of me.
Memories of the past. Of the present. And of the future.
My mind began racing uncontrollably. Thoughts swirling within my head. Questions filling my heart.
Why does he look so familiar? Why don’t I know his name yet? What exactly happened last night? How come I can’t seem to remember anything after leaving the bar? Where did I go afterwards? Did I sleep over at someone’s house? Was I sick or injured? Am I okay?
Questions, questions, and more questions.
Yet nothing made sense. Nothing added up. Not one bit.
Just then, something clicked. Something I’d forgotten about. Forgotten about completely. Until now.
A memory resurfaced. An old friend. From way back when.
Back when I was younger. Back when I used to play baseball. When I was still living in California.
That’s right. He played on the team too. We weren’t best buds by any means. In fact, I only remember seeing him a handful of times. But whenever I did see him, there was always this strange connection between us. Some sort of magnetic pull drew me towards him.
No matter how hard I tried to resist, I couldn’t help but get sucked into whatever he was doing. Whether it was playing ball, talking, laughing, joking around, or even getting drunk together.
There was no denying it. There was definitely something going on. Between us two.
So naturally, I decided to investigate further. To figure out what it was. What exactly made me want to follow him everywhere he went. Whenever he left the room, I followed closely behind. Just waiting patiently for another opportunity to strike. Waiting for the perfect chance to pounce.
Then one day, I got lucky. After watching him leave the field early, I snuck onto the premises unnoticed. Following him as far as I possibly could. All the while keeping my distance. Hoping not to be noticed. Yet somehow, I managed to stay hidden. At least for the time being.
Eventually, I found myself standing outside his home. Standing in front of the door. Ready to knock. Wondering if I should give him a call first. Or perhaps send him a text message instead. Deciding whether I should wait for him to answer the phone himself. Or simply walk straight in and surprise him.
Decisions, decisions, and more decisions.
Eventually, I opted for the latter option. Stepping forward with confidence. Knowing full well that I had to act fast. If I waited much longer, he might change his mind. Might decide to ignore me altogether. Which meant I needed to make my move soon or risk losing everything forever.
And so I knocked. Knocking twice before opening the door. Walking inside without hesitation. Without fear.
Once I entered his apartment, I immediately spotted him sitting on the couch. Watching television. With headphones plugged directly into his ears. Listening intently to the music.
At once, I knew I’d been right all along. That we shared a secret. A deep-seated bond. Something that bound us together like never before.
Something that would keep us connected until the end of time.
For a brief moment, I stood frozen in place. Staring blankly ahead. Unable to take my eyes off of him. My breath caught in my throat.
Before I knew it, I was walking toward him. Moving closer and closer. Closer than ever before. So close in fact, that I felt compelled to reach out. Reach out and touch him. Touch his skin. Feel his warmth. Experience his presence firsthand.
To my utter shock and amazement, he turned around. Turning his head slowly towards me. Looking me dead in the eye. As though he recognized me instantly. Recognized who I really am. Even if I didn’t recognize him at all.
His face lit up upon spotting me. His expression changed from confused to elated. The smile spread across his lips. Growing wider and bigger by the second.
It wasn’t just his body language that changed either. It was also the tone of voice he spoke in. Suddenly sounding different. More relaxed. Less tense. Like he finally realized why I was there. Why I was staring at him.
“Hey,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
I responded by smiling back at him. Smiling wide enough to show him how happy I was to see him again. How excited I was to have such an amazing reunion.
How glad I was to be reunited with my long-lost friend.
***
The next few days passed by quickly. Too quickly for my liking. Every single minute seemed like hours. Hours spent reliving our past memories. Recalling every last detail. Trying desperately to recall each and every word spoken. Each and every action is taken.
Every single thing we did together.
As for me, I kept thinking about him nonstop. Thinking about all the things he taught me. About all the lessons learned. Everything I’ve come to know since meeting him. And most importantly, everything I’m yet to learn.
He was my mentor. My teacher. Someone I looked up to above everyone else. Who helped me grow stronger. Grow wiser. Become someone I can truly be proud of.
Without him, I don’t think I’d be where I am today. Not in life nor in love.
But now that I’ve reconnected with him after years apart, I feel like I’ll never lose sight of him again. Never let go of his hand. Letting him guide me through the rest of my journey. Helping me become a better person along the way.
Which is precisely why I wanted to thank him properly. Wanted to express my gratitude for everything he’s done. For everything, he continues to do.
That night, I invited him over to my house. Inviting him in for dinner. Sitting down with him at the kitchen table. Eating together as friends. Talking about anything and everything under the sun. Laughing together. Crying together. Sharing stories of our lives. Our loves and losses.
Talking about the good old days when we were kids growing up together. When nothing mattered but having fun. Before any real responsibilities came into play.
We talked for hours. Until late into the evening. Late into the early morning. Both of us were unable to stop talking. Neither one of us wanted to say goodbye. To part ways for another day. Another week. Another month.
Neither of us was willing to leave. Wanting to stay together forever. Together always. No matter what.
In the end, we decided to spend the entire weekend together. Spending quality time together. Enjoying each other’s company even more than usual. Making sure not to waste a single second.
So, we stayed up all night. Spent the whole night awake. Cuddled together on the couch. Holding hands tightly. Feeling each other’s heartbeat beneath our palms.
Sitting side by side. In perfect harmony. Living in unison. Connected beyond words.
By dawn, neither one of us could keep our eyes open anymore. We both fell asleep right where we sat. On the living room floor. Snuggled together underneath a blanket. With no intention of moving anytime soon.
When I woke up later that afternoon, I found myself alone. He had already left without saying goodbye. Leaving me behind. Alone in the empty house.
Trying hard to hold back tears. Knowing full well that this might very well be the last time we meet.
Knowing that I may never get to see him again. Ever.
And so, I cried. Sobbing uncontrollably. Wailing loudly. Screaming at the top of my lungs. Bawling my eyes out.
Cursing fate for being such a cruel bitch. Fuming madly. Furious to the point of insanity.
Angry at the world for taking away something precious from me. Something special. Unique. Special enough to make me fall completely in love with it.
Something I would give my life for.
***
A few weeks went by before I saw him again. Seeing him brought back too many painful memories. Memories of the times we shared together. Of the things, we used to talk about. Things we promised ourselves we’d do once we grew older. Once we got married and started families of our own.
Things we swore we’d never forget. That we wouldn’t ever let slip between our fingers.
Unfortunately, those promises didn’t survive the test of time. They couldn’t withstand reality. The reality eventually caught up with us and tore them apart.
Now that I look back, I realize how foolish I was. How naïve I must have been to believe they’d actually happen someday. But then again, who knew? Nobody expected us to live this long. Or to grow old together.
I guess you could say we were just lucky. Lucky to find each other. Lucky to share these wonderful moments together.
Lucky to experience true happiness.
Despite knowing deep inside that there was only going to be heartache waiting ahead. Heartbreak lurking around the corner. Waiting patiently to pounce upon us.
Heartbreaking pain comes rushing back whenever we’re reminded of what happened. Whenever we remember the past. The present. And the future.
It hurts every time. Every single time. It cuts deeper than a knife. More viciously than a razor.
The worst part is that I know it will continue hurting until the day I die. Even if I manage to move on somehow. Forget the past. Move forward. Start anew.
Even though I’m trying my best to put the pieces back together. Trying desperately to mend the broken parts. Putting the shattered fragments back together.
No matter how much effort I exert, however, I can never fix what has already been destroyed.
There are some wounds that simply cannot heal. Some scars refuse to fade away.
Some pains that won’t disappear.
They remain etched in stone. Stuck permanently within our minds. Forever reminding us of the mistakes we made. Reminding us of the choices we wish we hadn’t taken.
Reminds us of all the bad decisions we’ve ever made. All the wrong turns we took along the way.
All the regrets we carry.
Every time I think about him, I feel like dying. Dying slowly. Slowly suffocating under the weight of misery.
But I don’t want to go yet. Not now. Maybe not ever. Because he still needs me. Needs someone to take care of him. Someone to help him through his darkest hour.
Someone to stand by his side. Always.
Because I’ve seen firsthand what happens when people turn their backs on others. People who need them most. When they stop caring. Stop thinking of anyone else but themselves.
People who choose to walk away instead of sticking around. Who decides to abandon everyone they love. Including the ones who mean the most to them.
That’s why I’ll stick by him. No matter what. Until the bitter end. Till the very last moment.
Until death finally takes him away. Away from me.
As for the rest of my life… Well, I suppose that remains to be seen. Only time will tell.
⁂
“You should probably start packing your bags.”
My mother said as she handed me an envelope. “Your father wants you home ASAP. Apparently, he thinks you’re wasting your time here. You’re supposed to be working towards making yourself more marketable. Instead of spending hours writing poetry. Which apparently doesn’t bring in any money whatsoever. So, I suggest you pack up your stuff and head straight back to New York City.”
She continued talking while I stared blankly at her. My mind was reeling. What did she just say? Did I hear correctly? Is she serious right now or am I hearing things? Am I dreaming?
How could Dad possibly think I’m wasting my time here?! He knows I’m doing everything I can! Everything I can to improve me. To become a better writer. A stronger poet. An even greater artist!
He always tells me to follow my dreams no matter what. That I shouldn’t worry about anything else because nothing matters except pursuing my passion.
So, what does he expect me to do? Give up on my dream? Just throw it all away so I can return to the city where I came from? Where do I belong? Back to the place I hate the most?
I felt sick to my stomach. Like I was going to vomit. Right there. In front of Mom.
Why would he ask me to leave? After all the sacrifices I’ve made? All the hard work I put into becoming a great writer. Why would he suddenly change his mind after being so supportive of me for years now?
What kind of parent asks their child to give up on something they love? Something they worked tirelessly to achieve?
And what makes him think I’m wasting my time here anyway? Does he really understand what goes on behind closed doors?
Does he know how many sleepless nights I spent studying? Writing poems? Working on my novels?
Didn’t he see how dedicated I was to improve myself? Didn’t he notice how much time I devoted to honing my craft? How determined I was to succeed?
Is he blind? Or maybe deaf?
Or perhaps he’s just plain stupid.
Either way, I have absolutely no idea why he’d want me to quit school. Especially since I’ve managed to make such amazing progress over these past few months.
Mom must’ve noticed the look of utter shock on my face. She quickly added:
“Oh, come off it! Don’t act surprised. This isn’t news to you either.”
Her tone sounded accusatory. As if she were blaming me for whatever this was all about.
Well, guess what? It wasn’t my fault! And neither is it yours!
This had nothing to do with me. Nothing at all.
It was none of my business. None of my concerns.
In fact, I didn’t even know what was happening until today. The day I found out I was being kicked out of college.
Apparently, Dad decided to pull me out of school without telling anybody. Without asking my opinion first.
Without bothering to consult with me before making a decision that affects both of us.
Which means he never cared enough to find out what I wanted. About my future. Whether I thought it was best for me to stay or whether I preferred to go back home.
No wonder he’s been acting weird lately. I get it now. He’s angry. Frustrated. Upset. Probably feeling guilty too.
Guilty for leaving me alone to fend for myself. For forcing me to live on my own in a foreign country, far away from family and friends.
For putting me through hell.
But don’t worry. I won’t let him ruin my life. Not anymore.
Not ever again.
I refuse to allow him to take control of my destiny.
To dictate how I spend my days.
Whether I pursue my dreams or not.
Wherever I decide to study. Whatever career path I choose to follow.
All decisions are mine to make.
Mine and nobody else’s.
Dad has no right to interfere. Even though we share the same blood. We’re still two different people. Two individuals who have our own lives to lead. Our own destinies to create.
The End