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“What was he like before? When you were a kid?”
“He had no focus. He’d jump from job to job. He wasn’t reliable. My mom would ask him to pick me up from school and he’d forget. He’d be home watching TV and she’d have to leave work to come get me. Or he’d place bets on a sports game and not tell her and then lose everything he bet. He was just really immature and didn’t care about anyone but himself.”
“Most people don’t change.”
“I know, but my mom and I believed that he could, and that he did. But it turns out he just learned how to be a better liar. And he learned how to dress well so that people would believe he was successful. He earned their trust then took their money, including ours.”
“You and your mom had nothing left?”
“We had our cars but they were both old and not worth much. We sold them to get enough money to pay off whatever debts we had and were left with just enough to buy my mom’s ticket to New York.”
“So living here was your only option.”
“Yeah, but it’s not that bad. Other than that couch. I really need to get rid of that.”
He stands up. “Let’s do it right now.”
“Do what?”
“Get rid of the couch. We’ll take it out and set it by the garage, then later this week, we’ll load it in Miller’s truck and take it to a dump. Do you know if there’s one close to here?”
“I have no clue, but Kyle, you don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. I know it bothers you to have it in the house and I agree. It gives off a bad aura, and that’s the last thing you need right now.” He walks to the door and opens it. “Come on.”
We leave the patio and go inside.
“I don’t think we should do this,” I say. “It’s not my couch. It’s Lorraine’s, the woman who inherited the house.”
“You really think she’d want this?” He points to the couch.
Looking at it, I don’t know whyanyonewould want it, even if someonehadn’tdied on it. It has a brown wooden frame that’s curved at the top and sides, like a Victorian style, and it’s covered in a pink velour fabric. There are brown stains, which I hope are coffee stains, on the cushions, and the seams at the very bottom of the frame are tearing, leaving threads dangling down.
“Lorraine definitely wouldn’t want this,” I say.
“Then let’s go.” He’s already positioned himself on one end of the couch.
I position myself on the other and we lift it up and carry it outside. We set it down on the grass behind the garage.
“I’ll look up where the closest dump is and maybe we could go tomorrow if you have time. Or if you can just help me get it in the truck, I can take it there myself.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem. Should we finish dinner?”
“Yeah, but first I need to wash my hands.”
He agrees and we both go back inside to wash up. When I walk into the living room I notice that it does feel different having that couch gone. Kyle was right. It had a bad aura. It was making this place feel dark and sad and I’m sure it’s what was making this place smell so bad. Just having it out of here a few minutes has made the place smell better.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
“Before you do that, let’s air it out.”
I open my eyes and see Kyle opening all the windows.
“You shouldn’t open them. It’s too dusty.”
“It’s not windy today. And you need the fresh air. I bet this place hasn’t been aired out in years.”
