Door Man

Alex runs out of our apartment. He did this once at about 3 in the morning and we only knew because the phone rang (”Who the HELL is calling us in the middle of the night?” we fumed) and it was a neighbor, saying that Alex had come into her apartment and turned on all the lights. She wasn’t mad. Her boyfriend was mad at her the next day for not locking her door. Jeff was thankful she didn’t shoot Alex (not that she has a gun, but you get the idea).

When we stumbled out of the bedroom to look for him, he had already come back to the apartment and was blinking at us with a surprised smile (he didn’t think we’d know about his little excursion, maybe).

I slept fitfully, for the rest of the night.

The closed door (photo by Kwerfeldein, flickr.com)

Jeff didn’t go back to sleep at all, but simply started his day at 3:40 a.m or so.

Next day, Jeff took  the day off from work and we stopped in a number of lock shops and made a number of phone calls, trying to figure out what to buy so we could sleep through the night again. We settled on a couple of door alarms and for a few harrowing months, set both up. Now, we just have one at the top of the door, which is triggered if the door opens.

Since then, Alex hasn’t run out in the middle of the night. I’m relieved – and I know that alarm will always, always wake me.

The other day, a neighbor stopped by to ask me something and while we were talking Alex kept trying to dart out the door. He ran down the hall a few times and almost enraged, I kept grabbing him and screaming. Turns out he wanted to shut the stairwell door in the hallway, so I made him say those words (I – want – to – shut – the – door) and the minute he did I felt something relax in me, the tension draining away as he put into words his intention.

It’s like that door is sometimes the only thing he sees in an empty landscape, an irresistible siren call to freedom, to waiting by the elevator for Daddy to come home from work, to doors that need shutting.