Invisible

HOME (lengthening chapter title)

“KEEP THEM CLOSED,” Aiden says when the car stops. I hear him open his door, then opening mine. His arm moves under my legs, making me twitch.

“Not trying to do anything,” he whispers. I sigh as he picks me up, sets me on the ground. Concrete, on the street or in a driveway. I hear him slam the door, and he gently pushes me forward.

“Almost there,” he says, “step up.”

I do so twice, and somehow I feel trapped, enclosed as if we were standing in something. He takes the key from me, and I hear a door unlock.

“Push it open,” he says. I reach forward, push the door. A familiar pattern’s on it, completely geometric. Squares, circles, rectangles…

He continues to push me forward. When we stop, he tells me to open my eyes. And when I do, my heart sinks.

I see the red plaid sofa, perched in the same place it was when I was young. The fireplace stands before it, pictures of my mother and her family over the mantle. Along the walls, pictures I drew when I was in first grade, a picture of Aiden and me, my grandmother, Jack…

I’m home.

“Your grandfather gave me the key this morning. He wanted me to tell you he was going to give this to you for your birthday.”

It takes a moment before I can look away from everything in this place. “What do you mean give?” I say as I look up at him.

“This place is yours.”

My eyes widen, throat tightens, causing tears to form. And this time I let them fall, and as soon as they start, there’s no stopping them.

“Are you kidding?”

He shakes his head. “Mark signed this house over to your grandfather when your mother died… He said he’d rather keep it than have it sold…” he hesitates, smiles at me as I walk toward the pictures. They’re all still in the same place, not lying in a box, not in a storage space.

Tears come faster.

“This is your grandfather’s present,” he continues, “Mine is upstairs.”

I look up the staircase, wondering where it is, what it could possibly be.

“Where is it?”

“Look for it. You’ll know it when you see it.”

 I run up the stairs, down the hallway. I pass my empty room, walk into my mother’s bedroom. The bed is the only thing that stands, the rest of the room completely empty. There’s only one door left to go though, and as I walk through the threshold to my mother’s office, tears come faster, and I smile. Her piano is sitting in the same place, the same piano she used to play for me, same piano she used to teach me. I hear Aiden’s footsteps behind me, and I turn toward him, stare at him for a moment.

“Go on,” he says as he looks toward the piano, then back at me. I walk toward it, pull the cover away from the front of the piano, notice a card with my name on it, the words Happy Birthday printed obnoxiously big on the front cover. I pick it up, open it.

There are ten candles drawn on a cake, my mother’s familiar handwriting filling up the first page. As soon as I make it out, I purse my lips, try to hold everything in. I’ve already cried, already let out too many tears. But when I read it, I crumble, tears coming too fast, too abundant.

Emma, you’re growing up too fast for me to keep up… Ten years may seem too long for you, but for me, it’s just a day, and tomorrow you’ll be eighteen. That’s I want you to know now that I love you more than anything, and it’s so important to me that you’ll stay strong no matter what comes your way. I know you will. You have my spirit, and I’m hoping you’ll keep it throughout your life.