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“It’s none of your damn business!”
“Right. Nothing’s ever my business. Why didn’t you call a cab or ask a neighbor to take you to the doctor? Why me? You obviously don’t want me here, or at the least, you can’t accommodate me.”
“You can sleep in your room, Amelia! I’m not telling you that you can’t!” Her voice rose.
“I’ll come by in the morning to take you to your appointment. When do you need to be there?”
“Nine-thirty. But really, just sleep in your room. Or in Henry’s if you must, but don’t mess up his things.”
Defeated, I walked over to the creaky stairs as she turned the TV back on. I’d see how bad the rest of the house was, then try to find a place to settle down. I glanced into the bathroom as I moved through the narrow walkway on the second story. I flicked the switch on the wall and the overhead light flickered and snapped like something in a horror movie.
“Light off!” Mom hollered from downstairs.
I turned the light back off and pulled my phone out to use its flashlight. I looked around and created a path to the toilet, which was still in working order. The shower, however, had a lot of clothing and a large stack of magazines blocking access to it. Was Mom bathing regularly?
The house smelled the same, like rot and dust. I used to be so familiar with the smell, I thought it would never come out of my hair. But there was so much more stuff than back then. I continued down the hallway and hit the light switch in my childhood bedroom. The place was filled to the ceiling with cardboard boxes. I was not going to sleep in there without several hours of moving things, hoping to uncover a bed that was probably more grotesque than the ground outside.
The last door I opened led into my brother’s bedroom. It looked as it always had. It wasn’t even dusty. She took care of his room like it was a shrine. It smelled like the rest of the house, but everything was clean. There were a couple of sports trophies on top of his dresser, a pile of spare change, some severely faded movie stubs, and the penguin key chain I have him when we were young. ‘Chill out’, it said.
When he turned sixteen, I have him that gift to celebrate his upcoming driver’s license. He’d promised to use it, and always had until it was dirty and well-loved. I smiled at the memory through the fog of loss.
The last talk I had with him had been about Mystery Guy. Henry told me to go find him, pretending I hadn’t ignored him for weeks. I had tried, bolstered and full of hope, pursuing my first stab at human connection outside the family.
But I hadn’t found him. I had told him I was hiding. Was he hiding? Where did he go?
Was he even real?
I knew the answer now. He was so, so real. Raph had to be my guy. But back then, my thoughts ran to him when sadness overwhelmed my life. Raph, or rather, Mystery Guy, had been the escape from my miserable life.
My mother was never there. I’d been resented without a guise. My father abandoned us before I was born, and Mom made sure I knew that was my cross to bear. When Henry had his accident just off his college campus with the drunk twenty-something, that was somehow my fault, too. I never understood how or why. Or why my mother coped with it by throwing nothing away. Not even when the house was so infested with mice that I could hear them running through the walls at all hours of the day. Not even when there were roaches in the kitchen and bathroom. Not even when I threatened to leave. That hadn’t made a dent.
Besides, where could I have gone? I knew no other place. I didn’t know where Mystery Guy had disappeared to. I used to imagine he’d come and find me. I used to imagine I’d have a future that was clear, clean, and bright. With him. I dwelled in that fantasy more often than not, and it led to my interest in design.
Knowing I could have that control someday made the last of my teens bearable. I pushed and strived toward seeing Mystery Guy again and held my head above water through the most helpless moments I endured.
Being back in the house brought tears to my eyes. I missed Henry terribly, but it hurt to know his space was the only one in the house of value to my mother. It was like I never mattered, even though I was still here, alive and well.
I gave the room another sweep and decided I’d try my best to sleep. If sleep still evaded me, there was always the rental car in the driveway for a place to lay my head.
I sat down on the bed and pulled out my laptop. I connected it to my phone’s hotspot and checked my email, making sure I wasn’t missing anything crucial before I gave up on this excessive day.
Of course, I had an email from Derrick time stamped a few hours ago… perfect. I’d get the drafted plans to him as soon as they were finished.
I opened my draft files and checked what progress I’d made earlier. It was rough, but the concept was clear enough to send for Derrick’s approval. All my notes for the space were added in.
I attached the file to an email and sent it on its way, hoping Derrick wouldn’t leave me hanging until Monday. It wouldn’t surprise me, but even Derrick could kiss ass when warranted. I hoped his hatred for me was outweighed by ethics. Maybe…
I dug my phone charger out of my bed and plugged it in across the room in the open outlet. When I went back to my phone, it was dead. I plugged it into the cord, made sure it was juicing up, then trudged back to my brother’s bed. The only available place to sleep.
I hated how the house rustled in the night.
Chapter Thirteen
Raph
Istepped out of the shower after a long run on one of the hotel’s treadmills. Exercise was my only means of passing time. Without dressing, I sat at the desk to look over some bills, approvals, and invoices from the inspections and the work done at Experience Shoreview.
An email pinged, and I clicked the red icon to open the application. Scanning the text, I sighed and leaned back. I wasn’t reasonable to expect anything from Lia.
