Content warning* - Death of child, death of spouse

At precisely 3 o’clock in the afternoon, Mr. Charles appeared in the third story window of his home with a scowl on his face. His wrinkled old eyes scanned up and down the street as if looking for something and, having not seen it, let out a grumbled ‘harrumph’ and settled himself onto a dusty old chair to wait. He watched as life outside his window went by; people going places, laughter and music drifting up from somewhere in the distance and the light patter of rain as it hit the window pane. As the minutes ticked by Mr. Charles could feel himself growing more impatient, but he refused to give up and leave his spot. This was the one time of day he genuinely looked forward to and he wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Mr. Charles had married his high school sweetheart the summer they turned seventeen, and they shared three beautiful years together; but sadly, she and what would have been their first child, did not survive the birth. Mr. Charles never recovered from the loss and as the years passed withdrew into himself more and more and shut everyone out. He had wrinkles and creases on his brow from his mouth being set into a grimace all the time. He mostly only responded to others with grunts and if he wasn’t at work he was at home, watching the television and letting the minutes slowly tick by.

Mr. Charles had always wanted a family with lots of children and suddenly at the cusp of seeing that dream fulfilled it was ripped from him. He was bitter and angry but there was no one he could blame and no amount of screaming his sorrow into the void could ease his suffering. As such as years passed, neighbors, coworkers, and old friends distanced themselves from him as being around him. He would hear whispers from afar as people talked about him and children would point and laugh. He was a lonely and defeated man.

The old man opened his eyes as he heard the sound of lightly screeching brakes in the distance – that could only mean one thing. He stood from his chair and better positioned himself at the window, looking up the street through the rain where, shortly, a yellow bus would appear. A few minutes later he saw flashing yellow lights turn to red, and the sound of brakes again and the bus stopped. Children began to pour out from the doors and scatter in opposite directions. Most were running from home to escape the rain, but others meandered down the road, laughing and talking with each other.

The gentleman watched these children as they passed, his heart squeezing tightly as it always did when he saw children; the pain of his loss coming back to him as freshly as if it were just yesterday. Still though, even though it hurt to see them and to know he never would have any of his own it was the highlight of his day. They were bright eyed, all smiles and carefree as children should be. He may never have had any, but just seeing them brought an ounce of joy to his day.

The children never looked up towards him though, never gave him a passing thought. Most just ran by on to their next adventure. That was fine. That was how it had always been and how it always would be.

Just as the laughter from the children had finally died down as the last group passed from view he started to turn away, but stopped short. He stared down, blinking twice in disbelief at the street for staring up at him was a young girl. She was new. He knew all the kids that got off at this stop and he’d never seen her before. The young girl looked no older than six and had pink overalls on and bright green eyes that met his through the glass. Her blonde hair was partially drenched and as she brushed her bangs to one side she cocked her head slightly to the left, curious.

They stared at each other, neither breaking eye contact or moving for, what to Mr. Charles, felt an eternity. Finally, after what couldn’t have been more than a minute the young girl let a big, toothy grin break out over her small round face and she lifted a hand and waved. Mr. Charles took a step back, his mouth dropping open in shock. She waved! Recovering quickly, he lifted a hand and waved back. She appeared to let out a small giggle before turning and skipping off down the street, presumably home.

Mr. Charles fell back into his seat, dazed. She waved! She acknowledged him. For as long as he could remember, everyone avoided him, but this little girl – she smiled and waved. He felt weird, he couldn’t place it then, but what he left was joy. His long icy heart had a crack in it, and maybe, just maybe, this girl could completely thaw it.

As the next few weeks passed, Mr. Charles, who always sat and waited for the children to come off the bus, found himself even more impatient that before for it to arrive. He even started arriving to his window earlier, pacing back and forth or sitting and letting his leg bounce as he grew more antsy. And every day the children would get off as normal and his special girl would stop, smile and wave. His heart soared.

One afternoon, he watched as the bus pulled up and the children got off as normal, except this time, his girl got off with a young boy. He waited as they started to pass, his eyes watching her, wondering if she’d still stop and wave. And to his utter relief, she did. Breaking away from her friend before they completely passed, she ran back to his front gate, met his gaze, smiled her big smile and waved. His relief that she had not forgotten him was so immeasurable that a small smile broke across his lips as he waved back.

“Who are you waving to?”

Mr. Charles eyes looked to the young boy who’d spoken as he walked back to the young girl.

“The old man up in the window”.

“There is no man up there”, the boy replied as he looked up towards the long empty house. “The old man that lived there died a long time ago. My mommy told me so.”

“But I see him!”, his blonde girl replied, pointing up towards him.

Her friend glanced up at the old, dilapidated house; paint was peeling from the sides, the grass was long overgrown and a shutter was hanging by a single hinge from a second story window. He looked at all the windows carefully, but no, there was no one there.

“The house is empty Charlotte! You’re such a goose! I don’t see anything.”

“You don’t?”, Charlotte replied in a saddened tone, her eyes once more meeting Mr. Charles as he held her gaze. His own eyes, now displaying sorrow. “He’s right there and he looks sad”, she finished.

“He’s not there! No one’s lived there in a long time! You must be seeing a shadow. C’mon, we have to get home before dark”, the boy started off down the street but stopped part way, turned and looked at his friend. “Are you coming or not Charlotte?”

“I am”, the girl replied quietly her eyes holding the gaze of the deceased gentlemen’s in the upstairs window. Her eyes lingered for a moment longer before she broke away, turning to leave with the boy. Mr. Charles watched her leave bitterly. No wave today. He turned and started to fade away for the day, his moment done.

“MISTER IN THE WINDOW!” the young girl bellowed from below.

Mr. Charles eyes lit up and his heart fluttered as he felt life come back to him, just for a moment. He rushed back to the window and looked down. Charlotte, his new friend from the bus was grinning up and him and waving.

“See you tomorrow!”, she happily shouted before turning to rush and catch up with her friend who was now out of sight. He heard the young girls’ friend shout something to her but he could not hear what it was. But it did not matter. Mr. Charles heart felt full. For the first time, in a long time, he felt love. He collapsed into the chair beside the window and felt tears well up into his eyes as he whispered, “I’ll be here”.