The Painted Smile by Matthew Whistance

Will stopped at the doorway of the small unkempt home, his hand grasping the door frame. He stood for a second, hesitating, before walking inside. His father had lived there for a few years before he died, but Will had only been inside the house a handful of times. The damp smell hit him as soon as he crossed the threshold. A solitary recliner sat in the corner of the living room. A TV guide perched on the arm. The place where he remembered his father the most. In front of the TV watching old shows, replying only in grunts when Will spoke to him.

The room was sparse: bare walls, not a photo in sight. He stood in the center of the room and sighed. He made his way to the narrow staircase and up to the single bedroom. The blanket was strewn across the bed. It revealed the stained sheets that lay underneath. Will tried his best not to think about what the stains might have been. 

As he opened the closet, a box fell out and landed on his feet. Will winced in pain and cursed his father under his breath. He looked inside the box. There were old family photos. Will, his mother, father, and brother all stood together at the beach, beaming smiles on their faces. A small smile crept across his lips before he put the photo back. 

There were old awards from his father’s boxing days, medals from his time in the military, and a pocket knife. Will tossed them to one side. He wasn’t interested in keeping them. He wasn’t particularly interested in keeping anything. He had wanted his brother to come and help empty out the house, but he was in the Bahamas with his fiancé for the next two weeks. 

As he was going through the heaps of useless items his father had collected over the years, Will spotted a large box at the back. The writing on it read ‘Home Movies’. He raised his eyebrows. He could barely remember his father filming anything. He grabbed the box and looked inside. There were a dozen tapes labeled: Paul’s Birthday, Christmas 1989, Beach Day, among others. Will picked up the box and headed back downstairs. His father still had a VCR player tucked underneath the TV. 

He put the tape in, pressed play, and sank into his father’s armchair. The grainy film started playing. His father filmed his mother and brother playing around, splashing each other in the sea. The camera eventually spun around to reveal his father sat next to Will, who looked around five or six. Will had never seen this before. He had a beaming smile on his face. His mother had died a few years prior. Seeing her face again made him feel warm inside. The tape was only a few minutes long. He rummaged through the box again, longing to see his mother’s face for a few moments more. He decided on Christmas 1989. 

The film started with Paul opening his presents, his eyes lighting up at the toys his parents had bought him. His mother sat just in frame on the right-hand side. She was watching joyously as her eldest child reacted. Will ran into the frame. 

“My turn. My turn,” he said, jumping up and down. As soon as Will came into the frame, his father flipped the camera round. His face filled the screen. He smiled. A wide smile. Will couldn’t quite tell what, but something was off. His father’s smile reached just a little too far. The camera lingered on his face for a moment before the tape ended. Will sat there staring at the blank screen for a minute. That smile. He’d never seen it before. 

He shook it off. Told himself he was being ridiculous. It was just a smile. He decided to get on with cleaning out the rest of the house. After a few hours, he was satisfied that he had cleared out everything. There was a neat stack of boxes by the front door. Will wiped the sweat off his brow and took one last look around. The box of tapes still sat next to the armchair. 

Why not watch one more before throwing them all away, he thought. He looked through the box and found a few tapes with dates written on them. Nothing else. Just dates. He was intrigued. He pulled out one that said ‘18.06.95’ and placed it in the VCR. The tape started playing. It was just a black screen. He could hear someone’s quiet breathing behind the camera. This went on for a few seconds as Will watched in confusion. Suddenly, the person behind the camera moved forwards and what looked like a bed came into frame. They moved the camera up, revealing a teenage boy asleep in bed. Will sat up. It was him. The camera stayed on Will for a minute, just watching him sleep. Will didn’t move. He could hear his own breathing now, too loud in the empty house. He grabbed the tape out of the VCR and held it, staring at it. 

He placed it carefully back in the box and pulled out another tape: ‘20.03.96’. He forced it into the VCR, almost like he wanted it to break. He stood this time, alert, on edge. The tape began on Will. He was sleeping again. It lingered on him for a moment. Someone picked the camera up and closed in on the sleeping boy. Will’s face filled the screen. The tape cut off. He grabbed onto the TV, steadying himself. This was just a nice thing his father had done. Lots of parents watch their kids sleep. His father just decided to record it. There was nothing wrong with that. Right? 

He paced around the room, thoughts swirling in his head. He pulled out his phone and called his brother Paul. They exchanged pleasantries. Paul told him how his trip to the Bahamas was going. How Will should join them when they go next year. Will patiently listened, but in his head he was screaming for his brother to shut the hell up so he could speak. His brother finally stopped talking. That was usually the cue to end the phone call, but Will needed to ask him something. 

“Hey, do you ever remember Dad filming us when we were kids?” Will asked. 

Paul didn’t say anything for a moment. “Um, yeah. Yeah, I think so. He used to film us at Christmas and birthdays. I think that was when you were pretty young though.” Will stayed silent. 

Paul spoke again. “Why do you ask, anyway?” Will froze. Should he tell his brother? 

He hesitated and then answered. “No reason really. I just found some tapes in his closet. One of your birthdays was on there. It was nice seeing Mom again.” That started them off on a trip down memory lane, reminiscing about their childhood and their trips to the beach with their mother. Will’s tense shoulders had relaxed all of a sudden, and he had a smile on his face. Paul asked a question. 

“Did you see any tapes of your birthdays?” Will paused and thought for a moment. All the tapes with labels had said Paul’s name. None of them said his. 

“No, there wasn’t actually. Maybe they’re in another box or something,” Will replied. 

Paul cleared his throat. “Well, he did always seem a bit distant towards you now that I think about it.” Will thought for a minute. All the times that his father had asked Paul if he wanted to throw the ball around outside and never Will. 

He remembered a time when he was a young boy. His father had just gotten home from work. The two boys had run up to him. His father picked Paul up and gave him a hug. He just ruffled Will’s hair. His father said he was taking them for ice cream. They hopped in the car and drove over to the ice cream parlour a few miles away. As they drove, his father asked both the boys how they were getting on at school. Paul was always the smarter one; he got straight A’s all throughout school. Will, on the other hand, was dyslexic and struggled in school. His father knew that, but it didn’t seem to matter. Paul told him how he was getting on, which put a smile on his father’s face, but when Will told him, he frowned and shook his head. He berated Will, told him he was useless and that he didn’t deserve ice cream. While Paul and his father ate ice cream and laughed, Will watched on from the back seat of the car in tears. 

“Listen, I gotta go, Paul. There’s a lot to do here, and I need to get on with it.” His brother seemed slightly taken aback at the abrupt end to the phone call, but they said their goodbyes and Will hung up. All of a sudden, he was very aware he was alone in the house. The box of tapes seemed to look bigger now. Something was drawing him to them. 

He pulled a tape out at random: ‘17.09.96’. He slotted it in the VCR and sat down in the armchair. The tape started the same as it had in the previous one, watching Will sleep. He could feel his skin crawl as he fidgeted in the chair. Something about the tapes just seemed deeply unsettling. The quiet breathing. The stillness of it all. Will in his most vulnerable moment. In the corner of the frame, something moved. Will sat up and looked closer. He could just about make out a shadowy figure in the corner of the room. He moved even closer to the TV. 

He couldn’t quite make out what he was seeing. He paused the tape and stared at the figure. As he inspected it closer, he could tell it was a man standing in the corner, dressed in all black. His face was covered by a mask, a black mask, with a crudely painted white smile on it. Will froze, transfixed by the masked man. He pulled out another tape. Played it. The same masked man stood in the corner. He grabbed another. And another. Every tape, the figure was there. Standing. Watching. Will knew it in his heart before his mind caught up. The posture. The height. The way he held his shoulders. It was unmistakable. His father, masked, watching him sleep. Night after night. 

He sat back down, his legs unable to keep him upright. He rocked back and forth in the chair, head in his hands. Suddenly, he jolted up. He searched the place looking for answers, anything that could explain it. The kitchen. The bathroom. The bedroom. Everywhere. He arrived back at the closet. He looked inside. He noticed a small divot towards the back. He hadn’t noticed before, but now that it was cleaned out, it was obvious. He pulled at the divot and a cutout of the wall started to come off. He hesitated. Did he really want to see what was on the other side? But he had to know. He ripped the cutout off the wall. Another box sat in the hiding place. 

He opened up the box. More tapes. He picked one up: ‘20.10.2011’. He swallowed hard. His chest tightened. Will could barely breathe. Grabbing the box, he hurried back downstairs and inserted the tape. He stood only inches away from the screen. The tape began as normal in a bedroom. But this wasn’t Will’s childhood bedroom. No, as he studied it closer, he realized this was his old apartment. He’d moved out years ago at this point. His father stood in the corner in the same mask. Watching Will sleep. Will’s skin prickled. He could feel the goosebumps on his arms. He felt the urge to look away, but he couldn’t. How did his father get in his apartment? He could barely think straight. Too many thoughts were going through his mind. 

The spare key. He’d given his father a key when he moved out for emergencies. Instead, it had been used to watch him. Was this control? Obsession? Only his father could answer that, and it was too late to ask. 

Will dug into the box, checking the date on every single one of the mountain of tapes. They went on for years. He stopped for a second when he found one single tape that stood out. It was dated six months ago. His father had been doing this right up until he was in the hospital. He tentatively put it into the VCR. It was his new apartment. He watched for a moment, about to turn it off. But his father moved. He took off the mask and held it in his hands. Will watched closely and inspected his father’s face. He was crying. Tears streamed down his father’s face as he watched Will sleep. He watched his father fall to his knees and silently weep, looking at Will. The tape ended abruptly. 

The house was silent. So silent that Will realized he’d been holding his breath. He let out a deep sigh. He didn’t stay. He grabbed the boxes from by the door and hurriedly chucked them into his car. He grabbed the tapes last and placed them on the back seat. As he was driving, he constantly checked his mirrors and the backseat. He couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow he was being watched. He made his way over to the dump, about a twenty-minute drive from his father’s house. 

He grabbed the box of tapes from the back seat and walked up to the top. He stood looking out at the dump, only the concrete barrier in his way. He looked down at the tapes. He lingered on them for a moment before throwing the box and watching it crash down on the pile of trash below. He could see the clouds of icy breath fall out of his mouth as he breathed heavily. 

He arrived back at his apartment shortly after. He checked his locks twice and sat down. He called a locksmith and arranged for him to come over tomorrow morning to change his front door locks. There was no reason for Will to feel unsafe now. His father was dead. But it just felt right. He walked over to his bedroom to change, but found himself stuck in the doorway, staring at the spot his father had stood in so many times before. He imagined him standing there, just watching him. A shiver ran down his spine. 

Later that night, Will lay on the floor of his bedroom looking up at the ceiling. He had tried to go to sleep, but it didn’t feel right lying in the bed. He felt like he was being watched. He turned to his side to put his hand on the mattress to get up when he noticed something tucked underneath his bed. He stretched his arm out and grabbed it. The mask. The mask that had seen so much of Will over the years. He studied it. He had the feeling that it was looking back at him. He should throw it away. He should burn it like he should have burned the tapes. He didn’t move. He just held it, the painted smile facing him in the dark. 

Matthew Whistance

Image by InspiredImages from Pixabay – A black VCR machine with cassette on the top.