Fix the Latch

I heard a sound. A knock, but not a knock on the door. Just the soft clinking noise of someone tapping on glass. I knew what that meant. I quickly ran to the window over the sink, grinning when I saw Connor. He ran a hand through his curly black hair that matched mine. We always joked that we would never have to guess what our children looked like. At least, when it came to their hair color. He was 16, just a year older than me, and even though we were young we knew we would get married someday. It was written in the stars.

He gave me a goofy grin and gestured for me to open the window. I reached for the latch, but it wouldn’t budge. I held up a finger that said One second, but I could see Connor’s smile start to fall. I fumbled with the latch for a few more seconds. I looked around my small house. Where was that door?

Before I could find another way to talk to Connor, he started to walk away. Wait! I wanted to call, but the words couldn’t get through the window. And now I was losing Connor.

That stupid window.

***

I heard a knock. The clinking noise of tapping on glass. Connor had long since stopped coming—it wasn’t him. But window knocks were his thing. So who was there now?

I stood and walked to the window with less excitement than I used to. Half heartedly, I check for visitors.

Shocked, I recognize the two figures outside as my parents. Well, this was strange. They lived here. They had keys. So why were they knocking on the window? I tried to open it, but the latch was still stuck. I would have to fix that stupid window.

My stomach sank when my focus drifted past why they were there. Their normal smiles were gone. We’re they... yelling at each other? No, it couldn’t be. That wasn’t like them. But they were.

And then the ground split.

A giant steel wall sprung up in the crack. It knocked both of my parents back. Separated by the wall.

I tried to scream, do something. Both of my parents were separated. And they were hurt.

But I couldn’t do anything, because the broken window stopped me. Even if the window was open, I couldn’t stop the wall from forming. But I could help them with the pain.

I should have fixed the window when Connor left, but I didn’t. I swore I would fix it...

Tomorrow.

That stupid window

***

I heard a knock on the window. I did not want to hear it. It had been years since the last knock, and I was just adjusting. I had matured. I never fixed the window, but lately it hadn’t caused any problems. Now I was beginning to question that decision.

With more than a little complaining, I stood to check the window. I looked out, but saw nothing. I turned to sit back down, but I heard the knock again. So I forced myself to check one more time, a bit more thoroughly. Again, I found nothing, until I glanced down. There, sitting in the middle of the grass, was a baby. Now how on earth did that little infant reach the window?

I recognized the little girl. She had my curly black hair and wide green eyes. Different lips and nose—those were my husband’s. The baby started crawling toward me, and I reached for the latch.

I uttered a few choice words when I remembered that the window was still broken.

I wanted to reach for the infant. She was my child, after all. If the window would just open, I could scoop her up. But it remained as stubborn as ever.

And the infant stopped her crawl. Two more people entered my field of vision. A man and a woman, both in their mid twenties. I envied their youth. Even though I was only a few years older, I had lost that innocent glow that radiated from them. And the baby—my baby—started crawling toward them. I wanted to do something, but the window stopped me. The young woman scooped my baby into her arms, and her husband planted a kiss on that curly black head.

It wasn’t fair.

I was trying to take her. I could have cared for that baby, my baby, but the window stopped me. What would my husband say? Would he believe me, that I could do nothing because of the window? I couldn’t tell him—I wouldn’t tell him. We would be childless forever, and he would be blissfully ignorant. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. Right?

That stupid window

***

I heard another knock. And I froze. I knew who it was, and all I could think was that I should have done two things.

I should have told my husband about our baby.

And I should have fixed the window.

But the knock just grew louder with every second I stalled. So I went to the window. And just like I expected, my husband was there. His normally bright blue eyes were now a stormy gray. He wore the look of pure and utter betrayal. And he started to walk away.

I couldn’t let this happen. Connor was the first to walk away like this. I wanted him to be the last.

But I couldn’t do anything. The latch was stuck tighter than ever, worn and rusted from years of uselessness. So all I could do was watch my husband walk away the same way Connor did.

I should have fixed the window then. But I never did.

That stupid window

***

Dr. Kit stepped out of his patient’s room, shaking his head.

The nurse knew that expression. That was the look Dr. Kit wore when he became too emotional with a case. But she didn’t bring that up. “Well?” she asked. Everyone in the psychiatric ward had been wondering why their newest patient had been admitted. She seemed like a perfectly stable 30-something woman. Rose, her name was.

”Hallucinations. She keeps hearing the sound of knocking on a window. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

The nurse nodded. “Why a window? Does she have a history of trauma?”

“Of course. The window isn’t related, though—it seems to be the symbol her brain has chosen to place the blame on.”

“The blame for what?”

“These traumatic events, of course. She is partially to blame. She was willfully ignorant, and her unchecked faults led to many of the tragedies that befell her. She never fixed the window.”

The nurse sighed. “So sad. To think that patients are in here because of their own windows!”

Dr. Kit nodded. “But don’t blame the window if you didn’t fix the latch in time.”