“I can't believe it's the same place,” I said, the words a bit strained but still normal sounding.
“We ripped up the old carpet and re-did the floors,” she said, the pride in her face unmistakeable. “Painted. Put in new windows.”
“It looks great,” I murmured, glancing over at the big picture window at the front of the house. Before, it was covered by dingy gold brocade curtains. I wondered if Elliot had ever opened them and let the light flow in. The honey-oak hardwood floors gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. Brightly colored toys dotted the floor and a colorful rug is planted in front of the TV. I could imagine the boy laying there on his stomach and staring at the TV, watching his favorite cartoons. I could see him playing noisily by himself, keeping himself busy and entertaining himself. I wondered, randomly, if he had any friends in the neighborhood.
I don't know why I thought of that, but I did.
“Where did you say you were from?” the woman asked, bending to toss a few of the toys into a bin, like I cared if the floor was messy.
“Oh, I'm in Dallas now. But I was down here visiting friends today and... I guess I got a little side-tracked,” I said.
“Dallas? You must miss Austin,” she said with another good-natured laugh. I stared down at her, forcing my face into an easy smile. I wondered what it would like, to live like that woman, who had everything. She had a husband she loved, she had a little boy, she had happiness. It didn't seem like she ever questioned her own happiness. It didn't seem like she'd ever had anything bad happen to her. Her life had probably been relatively unremarkable. At that moment, I envied her. I envied her life.
That could've been my life.
“I do, sometimes,” I responded, sliding my hand down the thin leather strap of my purse and trying not to imagine myself in her shoes. There was no point in getting maudlin. I had gone there for a stupid, selfish reason, but I still hadn't gotten what I truly wanted. I needed to see more. I had to see more. She straightened up and brushed her hands on her thighs and motioned for me to follow her.
“In the kitchen, we pulled up all that ugly linoleum and put in new cabinets,” she was saying as I followed her through the dining room and into the kitchen. I ran my eyes over the dining room table they had, remembering the old table that used to sit in its spot. Flashes of being fucked on that table shot through my mind. It was like there was a ghost a few inches away from me. I could still see the pale light from the old hanging chandelier. I could see the way his face looked in the pale light. I could feel him forcing my thighs apart and pulling me to him and being nowhere near gentle.
I hadn't thought of that night in a long time. But it was like no time had passed. Five years meant nothing. Elliot being gone meant nothing. His presence was so heavy in that house. I was like he was standing right behind me. I could practically feel his breath on the back of my neck. I just wanted to close my eyes and let myself fall backwards. I wanted him to catch me. I wanted his arms around me. I wanted him to come back and make everything make sense again.
“New granite countertops, new appliances,” she said, still going on. I could understand why – the kitchen looked completely brand new. The walls were painted the same aqua as the front door. The floor was cool ceramic tile and everything else was completely different as well. But I could still see the faded linoleum in front of the sink. I could still see the spot where he'd thrown me down so roughly. I could still taste my fear in the air. I could feel the way the cracked linoleum scratched against my soft skin. The woman of the house, oblivious to it all, opened a cabinet and pulls out two glasses. I watched as she filled them with filtered water and then held one out to me. I took it, the cool glass a shock to me. I sipped at the water, using the action to calm my nerves. “My name is Shayla, by the way,” she offered, looking at me expectantly.
“I'm Rachel,” I responded automatically, the name rolling off my tongue like second nature. “Thanks for the water, Shayla,” I said, barely remembering to smile. “It's so crazy to be here. I'm sorry for disrupting your day.”
“Oh no,” she waved her hand. “It's fine. We were just having a boring day anyway.” I nodded and took another sip. She set her glass on the granite countertop and an awkward moment passed between us. I knew I was overstaying my welcome. I was probably giving off strange vibes, too, despite my attempt to seem as normal as possible. Being normal was getting more and more difficult. Especially under the circumstances. “So tell me about this boyfriend,” she said. “What was so special about him?” I chuckled to myself and stared down at the spot on the floor that I couldn't ignore. It was calling to me, begging me to look at it.
“He wasn't good for me,” I admitted. “He had some issues.” I paused because that was another almost laughable understatement. “Problems. And I tried to leave him alone, you know. I tried to stay away from him.” I forced myself to smile again, even though I didn't want to smile. I would much rather cry. I was such a fool for him. The pain I'd suffered at his hands, the anger, the sadness, the depression, the obsession – all of it. And yet I still couldn't let him go. He didn't deserve it and neither did I.
“I know those types,” Shayla said with a knowing smile. “Impossible to stay away from. Until you get old enough to learn to avoid them.” I chuckled again, because she had no idea. But it was cute that she thought she did.
“Exactly,” I agreed, even though I had never learned my lesson. “But it wasn't always bad. Sometimes it was good.” I smoothed my lips together, feeling the thick lipstick on my lips. “Really good,” I said, glancing up to meet her eyes. She raised her eyebrows again, getting exactly what I was saying. “But memories aren't anything to get all hung up on, are they? They're unreliable. Easy to manipulate.”
“Not always easy to forget, though,” she said and I smiled again. That time, my smile felt genuine, as genuine as it could be. I realized that I appreciated her listening to my story, as sugar-coated and half-assed as it was. God knows, I hadn't talked about it to anyone, ever. It almost felt real. For a moment, I could forget that I was in a haunted house. I could forget all the things that had happened in that little nondescript ranch house in the middle of Austin. For a moment, I just felt like a normal person. But it didn't last of course.
“You know, we heard some things,” she said, leaning in closer. “Here and there. From the neighbors.”
“What kinds of things?” I asked, even though I knew. Well, I thought I knew. Maybe I didn't know at all. She pursed her lips and then the screen door creaked in the other room and we both turned toward the sound.
“Mama!” a high-pitched little voice screamed, echoing through the house. “Mama, where are you?”
“Boy, what do you want?” Shayla asked, her tone more indignant than her face. Her face was overflowing with love at that moment. I could see it in her eyes. I could see it in the way they softened and her smile deepened. “That child is gonna drive me crazy,” Shayla said, shaking her head but I could see right through her. She was in love with her child. But it wasn't a conditional love, or a toxic love. It was pure. Innocent. I wondered what that felt like, to love someone like that. It felt like I was intruding on their happy little life and I didn't like it. I set my full glass on the counter, feeling my time in the house coming to an end, and glanced out the kitchen window.
It was a new window, not the rickety half-broken one I'd shimmied open and climbed through all those years ago. Beyond the bright, clear glass, I could see Elliot's old swing set, rusted and unused at the edge of the lawn. Seeing it made my heart squeeze in my chest. There was still a piece of him here. He wasn't completely erased. But the backyard was a mess. Most of the grass was overturned and big piles of dirt dotted the length of it. “We're putting a pool in,” Shayla said, as if hearing the question in my mind.
“Mama, where are you?” the little boy called out, breaking the silence once again. “Come here!
“Excuse me? Come here what?”
A pause.
“Come her
e, please. I wanna show you something!” the sweet little voice continued. Shayla shrugged and, just like that, any unpleasantness was forgotten.
“Alright, I'm coming,” she called back and I nodded, letting her know I knew. I'd taken up enough of her time. I followed her out of the kitchen and into the living room, but something caught my eye and I stopped. The hallway ran the length of the house and I couldn't stop myself from looking down there, even though I knew I shouldn't. His bedroom was down there. The door was open and light shown down the dark hallway like a beacon. It was calling me. I knew it wouldn't be anything like how it was. It wouldn't smell the same or look the same or be the same in the anyway. But I couldn't stop the urge to go see it from rising in me. The hallway was painted a fresh white and family pictures dotted the wall. I felt myself moving toward the hallway, without thinking.
The smiling faces were almost all unfamiliar, but that didn't stop me from looking at each and every one. I saw Shayla and her son, beaming with happiness, posing alongside a white man I assumed was her husband. I lifted my hand and ran a fingertip along the edges of the perfectly arranged frames, remembering the other set of photos that had once hung on that same wall. I remembered the photo I used to have, the one he stole from me when he left. I stopped in front of the spot where it'd once hung. I could almost see it again, although the details were starting to fade. I remembered his little face, the innocent eyes he once had, the most. The rest of it wasn't as important, I guess. But I still felt sad when I thought of it. It wasn't fair of him to take it. It wasn't fair of him to leave me with nothing.
Absolutely fucking nothing.
“Rachel?” I heard her voice and I forced myself to snap out of it. I turned and found Shayla standing in the living room, staring down at me.
“Beautiful family,” I said then clamped my roaming hand on my purse strap again. I had to get out of there, I realized. I had to go before I completely lost it.
“Thanks,” Shayla said, but I barely heard her.
“I'm going to get back on the road,” I said, as brightly as I could without sounding like a robotic Stepford wife. My emotions were getting harder to regulate. I had to go before I broke down. Shayla nodded and I followed her outside, back into the oppressive Texas heat. I didn't look back. There was no point. That house might as well've been any other house on the block. There wasn't anything special about it anymore. There wasn't anything to hold on to.
“You said you were from Dallas?” Shayla asked as she walked me back out to the sidewalk.
“Yes, Dallas,” I said regretfully. “At this rate, I'll hit traffic and not be back before dark.” I flex and unflex my fist around my purse strap, the sweat already starting to bead on my forehead.
“Good luck,” she said, holding out her hand for her boy. He stepped into her touch, rolling the back of his head against her open palm. She ran her hand through his curls and the small affectionate moment between them caught my eye. For a long moment I couldn't look away.
“You too,” I murmured as the boy looked up at me, his eyes wide and distracted. I wondered what he was thinking about. He had such small concerns. His world was so small. He gave me a half-wave with his dirty little fingers and I waved back without thinking.
“Bye,” he said, then took off again, running back toward the tree and crouching down next to the flower bed. I cleared my throat and shook my head, forcing myself to stop watching him. Children were children, I told myself. I had a niece and a nephew. I was used to them and I even liked them, most of the time. They were cute. But there was something about that little boy and I didn't know what it was. I didn't like it. I don't like it when my heart gets soft without my permission. And my heart was soft that afternoon in Austin. My guard was down.
“Sorry for taking up so much of your time,” I said, repeating myself because I didn't know what else to say. She waved me off, shaking her head. Then she plopped her hands on her hips and I nodded. I turned toward my car, but then stopped. The big SUV in the driveway caught my attention. But what was most important was what was beyond it. “The garage,” I said without thinking.
“What?” she asked, turning to look at the garage door and then back at me.
“Was there anything in the garage? When you moved in?” I asked, my throat going dry. I knew it was stupid, but I couldn't stop myself from asking. She furrowed her brow and raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun.
“What do you mean?” she replied, as confused as I would expect her to be. I didn't know quite what I was trying to uncover either. I didn't know what he might've left in there or what, if anything, was left of it. It was a last ditch effort; a last hope. But from her face, I could feel the hope dying. I reminded myself that it was stupid to go there. It was stupid to expect that time would stop because I wanted it to. The world would keep on spinning with or without Elliot. It had, no matter how I'd tried to stop it.
“Never mind,” I said softly. “It doesn't matter.”
“I don't really know,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “My husband cleaned it out.”
“It's just...” I trailed off, forcing my mind to get sharp again. “He and his father used to work on cars. I was just wondering if there were car parts lying around or something. I don't know.” I shook my head and laughed, like I thought I was being stupid. It wasn't too far off the mark. I was being silly, but I had my reasons. I needed something. That was my last shot.
“No car parts,” Shayla said. “I would remember that. Mostly just odds and ends.”
“Okay. Thanks,” I nodded trying to smile, but it was taking longer than I wanted for it to sink in. It was impossible to pretend for a moment, but I finally forced myself out of it. I gave her one last smile and then I propelled myself forward, focusing on walking. Focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and getting my ass the hell out of there. I dug around in my purse for my keys, needing the distraction. My eyes were blurry as I fumbled around for them. Luckily, I found my sunglasses first and slid them on with shaking hands. My fingers finally brushed against the cool metal at the bottom of my purse and fished them out, trying not to curse out loud. The frustration was on the tip of my tongue.
“You know, I do remember something,” Shayla called out and I snapped my head up as if she'd slapped my face. “There was a big dog kennel in there. Built out of 2x4s and chainlink fencing. My husband took it apart before we moved in. It was a hazard. And it was huge.” I stared at her as I let her words sink in. “We always wondered about that. Did they breed dogs?” Shayla asked, cocking her head.
“No,” I said. Then I pulled out my keys and unlocked the car as fast as I could with my shaking hands. “Thanks so much!” I called out and then slipped inside the car and slammed the door shut. I forced myself to drive off as slowly as possible even though I wanted to slam my foot on the gas and get away as quickly as I could. In my rearview, I could see Shayla and her son on the lawn, getting smaller and smaller. I slowed at the stop sign, but didn't fully stop. I turned the corner too quickly and the tires squealed in my haste.
I pulled over about a block away because it felt like my heart was going to explode out of my chest. I turned on the air-conditioning full blast and sat back in my leather seat and lifted my hair off of my neck. I closed my eyes and tried not to focus on what she'd said. I tried to pretend I hadn't heard her. I tried to pretend that I didn't know what he'd built the cage for. Or why. Or who. But as I sat there in the slowly cooling car, I couldn't stop myself from thinking about it. Imagining it. In that dark garage where he'd taken my soul and ruined me for anyone else, including myself. He'd ruined me, but it hadn't been enough. I knew what he'd wanted to do with me all along but to have it confirmed like that was too much. He'd wanted to keep me on a leash and in a cage. He'd wanted me to be his pet, his plaything.
He'd wanted me to be his slave.
I opened my eyes and stared off at the new housing development across the street. Only two of the houses were standing. There were three
more in the process of being built. Their lumber skeletons stood out against the fading blue of the sky. It took me a minute to realize that the housing development was located in a familiar place. It used to be a field, I know for a fact. A field where I'd tried to run and hide. A field where he caught me and dragged me back into his clutches. But, like everything else in Austin, the old field had changed. It wasn't like I'd remembered. All of the things that reminded me of him and the bad times were gone. In their place was another feeling. A feeling that hadn't gone away since he'd gone away. A feeling that I'd learned how to bury but it was never far away.
Longing.
Painful, bone-deep longing.
I missed him with my whole being. It was embedded in me as much as the fucked-up thoughts and the coldness and the ability to manipulate. It was just a part of me now. But I wasn't willing to accept it. I wasn't willing to give up on him, just yet. I couldn't. Austin was done, but I wasn't done with him. After another minute, I checked my side-view mirror and pulled back into traffic when it was clear. I kept going and didn't look back. No more looking back, I told myself. No more living in the past.
All that was important was the future.
*****
The bridal shower was a grit-your-teeth-and-bear-it kind of situation. My cheeks hurt from smiling and my brain hurt from the aimless chatter. There were so many happy, familiar faces – all my aunties and cousins and old Dallas friends mixed with old Austin friends. People I hadn't seen in years. I hugged everyone and complimented them on their hair, their shoes, their nails. My mother shed a few tears and everyone fretted over her. But the tears were from pure happiness. Her long strife was officially over. Her only daughter was finally getting married and she would be rewarded with more grandbabies. Stubborn Joan the Rebel had finally made her family proud. The champagne flowed like water in celebration. The white tiered cake was from the best cake shop in Dallas. The gifts were plentiful and brightly wrapped, piled high and waiting for me to open them with much fanfare. My mother had even hired a photographer to document the day.
Love Is Strange (I Know... #2) Page 12
