Watchers of the Night

by Matthew Keith

Chapter 17

  Paul walked the halls back to his room in a kind of numb haze. What had he gotten himself involved in? How he had gotten himself involved? He wanted to blame Dr. Abrams or Dittrich or even his parents for allowing him to be hustled away from his home so quickly, but the truth was that he could have said no at any point, and he didn’t.

  He knew what he needed—he needed to find some balance, some perspective. He needed to talk to Stephanie. After dinner, he went straight to his room. Closing the door, he dug out his cell.

  “Stephanie,” he said without preamble when she answered, “I really need your help.”

  “It’s about time you realized that,” she replied with just a hint of sarcasm. “Tell me what’s happening.”

  “Well, you know Steven is here and that the reason he’s here is for me. The thing is, for him to stay permanently, he has to complete some training and a lot of it isn’t very easy. Actually, I guess you could say most of it isn’t easy.”

  “Oh God,” she groaned. “Is Steven making things harder for you there? Is he being his usual self?”

  “No, he isn’t at all. Well—yes, he is being himself. I don’t think he knows any other way to be. But he’s doing really well with the training. Everyone tells me so, anyway.”

  “So what’s the problem?” she asked, confused.

  “The problem is that part of the training he is doing is very… um… unpleasant. He’s been holding up and says he can take it, but I can tell he’s about to drop. The worst part is I can end it, if I could just figure how to finish some of my own training. But I can’t, and I’m really feeling helpless.”

  “What do you have to do?”

  Paul knew he had to answer carefully, or they’d end up discussing whether or not he was crazy instead of how to help Steven. “I have to use my emotions,” he said slowly, considering each word as he said. Lord, why hadn’t he thought about what he was going to say before calling her? “I have to figure out a way to pour my emotions into a tangible action.” What? He thought. Tangible action?

  Sure enough, her reply was just about what his would have been if their roles had been reversed. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Paul,” she said flatly. “Make sense.”

  “I have to find a way to focus all my emotional energy into one task. They tell me all I have to do is get mad enough and it’ll happen, but I just can’t make myself get that way. I can’t. I’ve tried, but I can’t.” He stood up and began pacing.

  “That’s because you’re such a sweetheart,” she replied, and he could tell she was smiling when she said it.

  “Steph, this is pretty serious…”

  “I know, I can tell it is. I was only half-joking. You really are a sweet guy. Maybe it just isn’t in you to get that mad.”

  There it was again. Kenneth had said basically the same thing. Paul thought about the night he’d banged on the door to his room and when he’d bumped the table in the training room. “No, I’m positive it’s in me. I’ve done it before, just not on purpose. I need to do it on purpose.”

  “Getting mad because you’re genuinely mad is something everyone does. It’s natural. But it isn’t part of you like it is with other people, Paul. Not as an everyday thing. I can’t remember the last time I saw you really angry, except maybe if you count that time when you first starting having your sleep issues. Like—seriously.”

  There was silence on the line for a few beats as Paul reflected on what Kenneth had said earlier and what Stephanie was telling him now. Maybe they were right, maybe anger just wasn’t his thing. “So what is a natural part of me?” he asked, almost to himself.

  “Define Paul Bennett in tens words or less,” she responded. “Okay. Here goes. Tired, sad, kind, quiet, smart, ashamed, loyal…”

  “Sounds kind of pathetic so far,” Paul interrupted.

  “Well it shouldn’t!” Stephanie protested. “So I guess that’s where the ‘ashamed’ part of you comes in. For some reason, you always seem like you’re apologizing for who you are. Like you don’t feel like you’re good enough. That’s always seemed ridiculous to me, because you’re so amazingly smart. So you have this sleep problem, big deal. Why do you even care about whether other people know about it? Who are those ‘other people’ to you? They’re nobody, that’s who!” Paul could tell Stephanie was getting worked up.

  “I don’t know how this helps me figure out the current issue,” Paul replied, a little uncomfortable with where the conversation had gone.

  “Your shame in who you are might be the problem! Maybe you don’t feel like your anger is justified. Maybe instead of focusing on anger, you should instead focus inward, on yourself. Take a good long look at who you are, what you are, and what you mean to the people who mean something to you. Recognize your own strengths, the dignity in the way you hold yourself and how you don’t have to be the center of attention to feel validated. Paul, if there has been one clear constant in my life it has been you and the friendship we share. There’s your emotional focus.”

  Paul stayed quiet, thinking.

  “Paul?” she asked.

  “I’m here,” he replied quietly. “You know… you’re pretty wonderful.”

  “Actually, yes I do know that,” she smiled into the telephone.

  “And by the way, earlier when you were describing me you forgot about good-looking.”

  “I was getting to that before you cut me off,” she giggled.