The Eyes Of Men: A Collection Of Short Stories

Hidden Boxes

I love my father very much. He is a good dad, and I think/(hope) a good man too. He's always been there to brighten the room with a joke or a playful pat on my head. He takes us to church on Sundays and comes to every one of my soccer matches. Sometimes though, it seems like his mind is somewhere else, like his eyes wander and his expression goes blank momentarily before he snaps back into the moment. You see, he keeps a secret box hidden up in the panels of our basement ceiling. I know this because I once saw him retrieve it.

It was shortly after suppertime one evening, and we were all in the living room watching the television. My sister Jane was slowly eating from her small bowl of popcorn, as it was her style to make it last longer then anybody else's, when she abruptly spilled the entirety of its contents onto the couch and floor. For her this was a tragedy beyond comprehension and she began to weep uncontrollably. My father, in is calm and composed way, swooped her up into his arms and began to tickle her until her tears turned to laughter. "Its not a big deal" he said, "we just need to clean it up and I'll get you a new bowl... how's that?" Jane wiped the remaining tears from her eyes and together they bent down and picked-up each individual piece of spilled popcorn until it was all cleaned. "You see, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Jane shook her head in agreement and smiled as he handed her the replacement bowl filled to the brim with fresh buttery popcorn.

Then my father got up to excuse himself to the bathroom, except he went past the bathroom toward the basement door. This strange behavior peaked my curiosity and so I followed him down there, where I hid silently just around corner to watch as he took out the step-ladder from the furnace area and placed it in the center of the room, where he proceeded to climb it. At that point he retrieved a small box, about the size of a shoe-box, concealed from within the ceiling panel. But the strangest thing was, that while still standing on the step ladder, all he did was lift the lid of the box and stare silently at the contents inside for only a brief moment before returning the box back to its hidden location. But, it was the expression on his face as he did it that has always haunted me the most, like a mixture of longing and fury.

Till this very day, I still don't know what was in it, for I have never looked. I don't know why not... perhaps it's because I don't want to know. Where do you go dad, during those gaps between the laughter, when your eyes grow cold and dead? Is your mind drifting back to the basement ceiling... back to your precious secret box?

*comments: What do you think is in the box?