.·:·.☽✧ Foraois ✧☾.·:·.

.·:·.☽✧ 1. Ache ✧☾.·:·.

I let out a shaky sigh as I sat up, the bed bouncing slightly from the movement. The fast change made my head spin and I slumped forward a bit. My head felt very heavy on my shoulders. Tunnel vision began to berate my sight and hearing. Sitting up took too much effort for me to be okay with. I didn't want to pass out. My skin felt cold and clammy. I sat there for a moment, staring at my socks.
My feet were dangling off of the bed. I gripped the sheets and clenched my teeth, something that also took a lot of effort. I wanted to see how bad it was. The skin of my knuckles barely had a chance to run white before all of the muscles in my arms began to throb in protest and I had to let go. The feeling sat amd lingered in my fingertips for a while.
I felt quite empty. Something wasn't quite there. All of the nerves in my body were chanting something was wrong, that something was missing. It felt too quiet. I could feel the emptiness of that room. The lack of things being moved around. No stray cough or loud thudding steps down the hall. No whistling. Things like his elaborate Sunday dinners and the scent of cigarette smoke were gone. Familiarity and routine became null and void. I had been thrown into a scenario that no one should like.
It caused this unbearable poison that bubbled through my veins and hardened, slowly ripping me into pieces over the course of the last few months. It was an unrelenting ache. The backs of my eyes began to sting as I crawled deeper into my head. I didn't want to cry, not again. I was dehydrated enough and the act left me practically dead afterwards.
"Fuck." I gasped out as the stinging grew and sparked that familiar feeling of discomfort in my stomach. I let out a choked sob, pressing the heel of my palm against my eye. Salty tears trailed paths down my face, staining small dark spots into the baby blue duvet cover beneath me. I needed to stop. This constant cycle needed to end before I lost my mind. Still, I was being suffocated with questions that would never be answered. With memories that seemed to never fade. They remained circling through my head with no hope of slowing. Why did someone have to take him from me? Why did this have to happen to me? To my brother? The only person who made me feel special. I felt crippled by it. It wouldn't go away. It's been weeks and it hasn't gotten any better. This cycle sucks.
"Five Stages" my ass. This was one long tunnel of garbage.
The dead air in the room around me seemed to only emphasize the dullness the swirling thoughts created. My body shook with heavy sobs, my mind growing foggier by the second. All of the colors I could see through the bitchy tears. Reds, blues, that annoying beige color that Mom painted the trim of the doors; all of it faded. My hands and face were wet, but I didn't notice it. Not really. I was vaguely aware of the growing moistness on the sleeves of my shirt as I angrily wiped at my face, but I didn't address it in my mind. I was too tired to be coherent.
All I could think about was my current dilemma: My father was dead, and it hurt like hell. And there was nothing that I, or my brother, or the police department could do about it. So here I sat, drowning in what his disappearance planted in my chest.
I opened my eyes, trying to slow my breathing. It took a few minutes, but eventually I was calm with dry cheeks. But that familiar exhaustion clouded over me once more, and I sighed again. Standing with shaky legs, I made my way to the mirror hanging on the wall across from the bed. I stood still as my head swam and waited a minute or two for the dizziness to pass.
My brow was tight knit, creases forming on my forehead. I relaxed my face. I had on an old faded Cincinnati Reds long sleeve. It was Dad's, and I've washed it way too many times. I didn't really wanna wear anything else. The logo had faded into the white fabric. My eyes looked really red and I rubbed at them for a moment. I had hazel eyes that were more on the grey side, like my Mom and brother. I sighed. I haven't brushed my hair in days. The strawberry blond curls were tangled and stuck out in weird places. A bit of red hid in them, and I could see it a bit as shifted on my feet under the sunlight streaming through the blinds..
I turned away and sat back down on my bed again, slumping forward. I stared at the wood grain below me. I was never really sure what to do with myself. Dad would suggest a new trail to hike or we would sit and read at a coffee shop. It was nice. The idea of doing that alone made my throat burn. It felt impossible to get away from this feeling. Was this how the rest of summer was going to be? Wallowing in utter despair and loss? I had to get over it some day, but how? Being told or telling myself to "just get better" only made me nauseous. That didn't change or fix anything. It only made me angry.
A quiet knock interrupted my train of thought.
"Grif? Can I talk to you?" The visitor on the other side sounded just as exhausted as I felt.
I let out a loud groan, glaring accusingly at the door. Couldn't I get a little more alone time? The last thing I wanted to do was talk. Talking just made my chest feel tight. Toes were quiet as I padded over and pulled open the door with a little more force than necessary. It thunked against the wall. My brother flinched, but I pretended not to notice.
"Where's the fire?" I asked, disdain dripping from my voice.
Phoenix, shifted uncomfortably as I glared up at him. We both knew how ridiculous I was being, but it wasn't a feeling I could just make go away. There didn't seem like I had a way to get away from this. His apprehensive eyes stared back at me, my words hanging above our heads for a moment. He ran his fingers through his curly brown hair and then put a hand on my shoulder. His eyes were a little more attentive. It must have been important if he was trying this hard. Over the last 80 or so days, if I was aggressive, he grew despondent fairly quickly. I shifted on my feet.
"I had something I wanted to talk to you about."
I rolled my eyes and silently invited him in. I shut the door behind him and watched as he shuffled into the dark room. Most likely criticizing how it looked. He was probably fighting the urge to part the curtains.
He sat on my bed and patted the space next to him, the blanket wrinkling under his weight. I narrowed my eyes, but didn't speak as I took place next to him on the battered mattress. It dipped and swayed as either of us shifted. I slouched, the exhaustion growing persistent. Phoenix sat unmoving, his eyes trained on my cluttered dresser, seemingly in thought. I waited, growing more uncomfortable as time moved. He seemed as uncomfortable as I was. Neither of us were good at putting our thoughts into words.
My thoughts bounced about as I picked at my nails; they were unbelievably short from my biting them. Dad tried really hard to get me to stop, and I did for a while. When he passed, I chewed them off in minutes out of frustration and overwhelming amounts of anxiety. A twinge of pain surged through my chest and I shuddered under its torture. The mattress squeaked with every one of my movements, and that only made the atmosphere that much heavier. I wrapped my arms around my torso, trying to hold myself together. I couldn't get all weepy about Dad in front of Phoenix. He's seen enough of it already.
I looked over at him, practically burning holes into his bouncy curls. Maybe my anger would mask my anciness. It took a lot of concentration. He just sat there in silence, mulling over his word choices. I was growing impatient. It bothered me how important this seemed. It made my throat feel like it was closing. The bed croaked as Phoenix shifted himself in front of me. I was about to make a snide remark about his time management skills when I noticed his eyes had welled with tears threatening to fall. His eyes looked so sad, so unbelievably weak and sympathetic. It was the same look the guidance counselor had. That same look of pity. I knew that look, and my fidgety hands found their way to the sheets and held on for dear life.
My flame of anger burned out, replaced by unyielding fear. He sighed, and it was a cold sound. The tension was so thick between us, I could slice it with a knife like butter. I didn't even hear what he said the first time through.
"We're moving. We can't stay here anymore, Grif. I'm sorry."
"Huh?" I was too busy staring at the ugly beige trim in anticipation to hear him. My shoulders sagged, no longer able to be so tense.
"We have to move." Phoenix spoke reluctantly, not meeting my eyes. His voice was choked. He was really struggling not to break down.
I let out a small laugh, attempting to convince myself he was joking. I elbowed him softly. But my heart was still thumping in my ears, the fear becoming overwhelming. I chose to ignore it, playing the denial card as best as I could.
The heavy silence began to drag out. I wanted to make a joke or maybe even continue my shitty facade. I couldn't do either though. I couldn't breathe. Phoenix remained silent and his somewhat surreal words began to sink in. I sat unmoving, bathing in the crippling fear and sadness that seemed to override all of my other senses. We can't leave. We can't. This is our home. This was our father's home. Why? When? And where on earth was better than here?
All of my questions didn't get answers, I couldn't speak. My watery eyes were trained on the trim again, I couldn't move. The crown of my head started to buzz, but I disregarded it. My head already hurt, and the little pull and prod inside my skull was barely noticeable. It just added to the heavy thump of the headache.
"Grif, look at me."
His quavering voice made me flinch, ultimately breaking me out of my state. My chest started to grow really really tight, in a way I didn't feel often. This was almost as gut wrenching as when the car kept going. Another spark of pain practically crippled me and I pulled my knees to my chest. I closed my eyes, I couldn't look at him. He sighed and a hand rested on my shoulder. He could see I was falling apart.
"Getting us through this is my main priority. We really can't afford to stay here anymore. The bills are so tight, it's suffocating. You've known that things haven't really been that ideal lately and it's not theesable anymore. I'm going to be pulling what's left in the emergency fund to get us somewhere safe and comfortable. We're gonna have to start over. I'm sorry. I really am. I was trying so hard to avoid this." His voice wavered as he spoke, getting quiet as he stumbled over his words. When he was finished, he just kept his hands clasped together and gazed at the threadcount. The room was silent and the atmosphere remained heavy as I bathed in everything he said. He waited patiently.
"Where are we going?" He took a moment to answer.
"Flagstaff, Arizona. It's pretty diverse in the way the area is populated and there's a lot to do once money isn't tight. The scenery is amazing too, the place is practically surrounded by mountains and pine trees. Lot's of farm land and protected parks. And there are multiple schools to choose from in the area once we're moved in, so you'll have time to pick..."
He trailed off. It was a lot to take in. I would have to do some research about this place. The grimace just kind of painted my face as I mulled it over. My head was practically swimming and it was growing difficult to think clearly. My stomach gurgled and twisted, a twinge of pain traveling up my side. The only things I knew about Arizona were fairly weather oriented. On television, I was told it had a dry climate and the deserts drowned the place in sand and poisonous bugs. I guess what I knew was wrong. I was convinced the east and west coasts were polar opposites. Pine trees made me think of snow and woodsy places like the national parks of Ohio. Television didn't do Arizona's justice.
"When are we leaving?" Instead of growing strong and confident like I hoped, my voice only seemed to get quieter. My only choice was to comply and as much as I hated this, I hated being left in the dark even more.
"In about a month. I still have legalities to figure out and I have to build a budget to prioritize rent and our plane tickets with the money we have left. I won't crowd you with the details, but we'll be running around a lot until the beginning of August." I nodded and buried my head in my knees. The buzzing was starting to get worse. It was honestly really painful. I wish it would go away.
Realization splashed me like a bucket of ice water and I shot up from my seat, stumbling my way across the room. It made my eyes swim with dizziness and ringing pounded my eardrums. Bad move, but I couldn't regret it now.
"What's wrong?" My sudden movement made him jump. I only knew because of the creaky mattress; my eyes were locked on the door. I stumbled into the door frame, gripping the wood as tinnitus threatened to knock me off of my feet. Sweaty fingers fumbled with the knob and the door thunked against the wall once more. I shook my head and darted into the hall, trying to reiterate everything I've spent my life learning about epilepsy.
Certain situations can trigger seizures, but they differ from person to person. Most commonly, lack of sleep, stress, and not taking medication could induce an epileptic episode. In my case, it could have been all three. Jesus Christ, I wasn't a fucking child. That I was beyond sure of so why in my right mind would I neglect to take my medication.
"Where are you going?" His voice was confused and a bit scared. It didn't grow quieter like I'd expected. He was following me as I ran down the hall to the bathroom. I couldn't answer him. My heart was too busy getting caught in my throat. I had to get to my medication. I couldn't have another seizure. Not now, while we were figuring all of this shit out. I wouldn't remember any of it.
Finally my feet crossed the threshold and I gripped the sink to keep myself standing against the unrelenting fear and exhaustion. My knuckles started to turn white as I held myself up. The aura started to surround me, clouding my vision and muffling my hearing. I felt like I was gonna throw up, it was so intense this time. It was never like this. I didn't stand a chance. My last thought was how bad this was gonna be if I fell and hit my head, so I sat down on the floor. Everything was swaying, my eyes trained on the cracks in the tiles. They had dust in them. The floor was very cold against my legs but it wasn't exactly something I could be picky about at the moment. Was Nix in the room? He had to be, but I couldn't tell.
"Fuck." I mumbled, my vision entirely checking out. My eyes rolling back behind my eyelids
"Griff? Griff! Holy shit-" I felt warm hands grip my shoulders and expected my skull to meet linoleum. Instead my head rested on something soft. I felt safe, but nothing made sense. Then the convulsions started, violent and jerking my limbs back and forth and slamming them into the floor below me.
* * *
There was a light shining in my eyes when I woke, warm against my skin. I croaked, shifting. Everything ached. Couldn't I sleep a little longer? My body felt so heavy, like I hadn't slept in days. Knowing my current routine of pout then collapse, I probably slept for far too long. I fluttered my eyelids and settled back into the cold beneath me. A leg shifted next to me.
"Griffin? Wake up." A warm hand ran through my knotty, sweat drenched curls. Although hesitant, I opened my droopy eyes to be greeted by my brother. His face was creased in distress and he was eyeing me as if to check if I was really here laying at his knees. His cheeks were wet, his skin red and blotchy. Why was I on the floor?
"Thank God, it's passed." His voice echoed through the spacious bathroom, which is where we both were for some reason. Passed?
"What happened?" I asked, a bit dazed. I sat up and brought a hand to my head, flinching when my arm felt very sore against movement. All of my muscles were screaming. I groaned, the situation slowly dawning on me. "Seizure."
"Yes. You didn't take your medication and I told you- ...something fairly stressful and it triggered an episode. I'm sorry. I should have asked about how you were feeling first before I started talking to you." Phoenix didn't meet my eyes, opting to glance around at the state of our disheveled bathroom. He'd probably ask me to clean it up later and wash whatever clothes I left on the floor. I nodded and looked up at the medicine cabinet.
"Something fairly stressful." I repeated. That left a bad taste in my mouth.
"Can you help me up?" I asked him, slicking my curls out of my face. Nix nodded and stood, brushing off the seat of his pants before holding his hands out for me. I took them and stood, grimacing at how shaky I was.
"How are you feeling? Did you hurt yourself at all?" He eyed me up and down again, looking for any sign of injury. I shook my head. My muscles and head were sore and I probably smacked my hands on the floor hard enough to leave bruises later on, but it wasn't anything I wasn't used to. I didn't taste metal, so my tongue was intact.
"What time is it?" I mumbled, opening the medicine cabinet and gripping the sink with one hand against the fatigue. Phoenix glanced down at his watch.
"It's one-thirty. You can take them, and then you should go get some sleep. You look like you're about to pass out," I nodded, finding the right bottle.
"That's the plan."
"When you wake up, we need to talk... again. Do you remember anything?" Phoenix seemed really fidgety and a little frustrated. What did we talk about? I shook my head again as I pressed the bottle cap into my palm.
"Not a thing. I thought I was in bed when I came to." I said, getting the bottle open and shaking out a single white hexagon shaped pill. The movement made my arms ache in protest. Once I swallowed the damned pill, I turned to him.
"I'll see you in a bit." He nodded and followed me down the hall to my room. Once I got the door open I tossed myself at the bed, my muscles instantly going limp. But I managed to turn my head to my brother. He remained in the doorway unmoving, hand gripping the knob. I raised one eyebrow.
"I'm fine, I promise. I'm just very tired." I closed my eyes, my body settling into bed. After a moment of quiet, the door closed quietly behind me.
He always hovered whenever my epilepsy acted up, worried I'd have a second seizure and crack my skull open or bite my tongue off. I only had two in a row one time, and it left me knocked out for about a day. It scared the living hell out of my family.
We all went for a picnic at a local park and I took a break from eating to go play on the swings. The setting sun flashing through the tree branches caused me to drop. Watching a six year old suddenly fall smack down into mulch and begin foaming at the mouth could scare anyone into cautiousness. My brother was eleven at the time. Reality entirely disappeared for a while. The next thing I knew, I woke up at the hospital. Mom later told me that I woke up but was fading in and out. They got me into the car and I flew right back down into another episode on the way to the hospital. Phoenix was the one to keep me from falling off the seat. So now my brother hovers, intensely so.
I didn't think it was that big of a deal. I always came out with minimal to no injuries and my memory didn't suffer that badly. I only lost a few hours each time, but it could be inconvenient. Exhibit A: my brother and I had this mysterious talk and because I neglected to take proper care of myself, it's all gone. I didn't have the energy to dwell. I was out like a light.
***
I opened my eyes to a low lit bedroom. It had to be eight at least if the sun was setting. I sat up and assessed the damage. I was definitely sore, but not that bad. There was a purple bruise developing on my wrist bone. I was also very sweaty, which made me cringe when I peeled my shirt away from my damp skin. Slowly, I got out of bed and opened the door. There was noise downstairs, but I ignored it. I really needed a shower before investigating. I padded down the hall to the bathroom and made sure to lock the door behind me. I stripped and was under the water in record time. The cold water undid all of the knots in my back. After a while, I couldn't stop thinking about talking to Phoenix, so I got out. I was far too curious for my own good. It was annoying. Soon, I was clean and dressed in loose clothes. I didn't bother looking in the mirror on the way out of the bathroom. As soon as I opened the door, I was smacked in the face with the scent of cooking meat. It made my mouth water.
My feet were loud as I ran down the hall. Pruney fingers squeaked along the shiny banister as I shuffled down the stairs. I guess my brother heard me because my name was called from the kitchen. I didn't hesitate and slid across the hardwood floor with my socks straight into the kitchen. The smell of cooking meat was much stronger now and my stomach rumbled in response. I continued to slide across the linoleum and slammed my knees into the cabinet to stop myself, gripping the countertop with my hands. Phoenix gave me a look for a moment but didn't say anything.
"Whatcha cookin'?" I asked, leaning my elbows on the counter. My voice bounced off the walls and I suppressed a cringe. Our kitchen was fairly big. Mom loved to cook and when Dad renovated the old farmhouse kitchen, he made sure to make it up to her standards. It was very airy and spacious, windows occupied three walls with a skylight above us. It was the opposite of suffocating and the room never got smokey from burnt food. We had a gas lit stove too, the nicest one I've seen actually. I don't even want to think about what Dad must have spent on it. The countertops were so shiny, I could see my reflection in the white granite. It seemed almost too big and luxurious with just the two of us.
"Pulled pork sandwiches. Is that ok with you?" Phoenix was pulling shredded pork from a pan and putting it on a plate with a pair of tongs.
"Yeah, sounds good. I'll go set the table." I sat up and began pulling plates and cups from the cabinet. Once they were placed at our respective seats, I grabbed a stack of napkins and put them in the middle of the table. The table used to be longer, but now it's just a circle with a chair on either side. After our parents disappeared by separate means, we put the table leaf and extra chairs in the closet. Everything seemed too big now.
Phoenix came out with a dinner plate towering with pulled pork, a pair of tongs balanced precariously on the edge of the porcelain. He placed it on the table and walked back into the kitchen to grab the bag of hamburger buns. While he was doing that, I grabbed the pitcher of green tea from the fridge. The ice clinked against the glass loudly as I placed it on the table. We each sat down and began setting up our sandwiches. I quickly got up to grab barbeque sauce from the fridge. After a few minutes of us munching in a comfortable silence, Phoenix put his sandwich down and wiped his mouth with a napkin. I guess it was time for that big talk he was so antsy about.
"So," He spoke.
"So." I replied. He smiled at me, and I smirked in return, taking a sip of tea. He always made it too sweet.
"We have to sell the house." His voice was quiet, not at all confident like I was expecting. I was hoping for a break in Dad's murder case. That would've been magnificent. He didn't make eye contact. I set my glass down and glared at him. It thunked loudly, adding to the effect I was attempting to create.
"Why?" I asked, leaning forward in my chair.
"You have to be joking right?" Phoenix sighed, staring into his glass. I guess not.
"Dad," He started and I flinched. He paused and I waited for him to continue, crossing my arms against my chest. Talking about Dad hurt him too. "Dad didn't leave us with a lot of money, not for a house of this size. The utility bill is kicking my ass and I can see how miserable you are. This place- it's too empty, and far too big for us."
I nodded and waited for him to finish. He waited for my response in return. I was furious. This was Dad's house and he spent his whole life making it perfect for us. He built a whole life for us with weak fingers and a broken marriage that was never meant to be. He struggled through it all for us. We couldn't just sell it, we had to upkeep it. But he was right, and I actually didn't have many ideas on how. I wasn't 18 yet, but I could probably score a good produce store job. Or look for a paid internship somewhere. I didn't know if I had the energy for that. I've spent the summer in my bedroom. It made my facade flutter a bit when I realized Phoenix was right. But I couldn't let Dad's home go.
"I'll get a job." I spoke as if that was the solution to all of our problems. I had to find a solution to this. Phoenix shook his head.
"Minimum wage isn't going to solve our debt, Grif. I'm sorry, but we can't afford it." His eyes were pained. He seemed too tired to shift his words even slightly.
"We can't leave, Phoenix! Dad poured his heart and soul into these walls for us. He built a good life for us! We can't just abandon this place. This is my home. Our home!" I was standing now, my hands pressed on the surface of the table. It creaked under my weight. Phoenix deflated, but his eyes remained strong.
"We have no choice, Griffin. I don't want to leave here either, but we don't exactly have many choices." He said, picking his glass up and taking a sip. Clearly, he was finished with the dispute.
I stood and left him there to eat by himself. I wasn't hungry anymore. I was so angry I could throw up. My feet were quiet as I ran up the winding staircase. I should write for a while, and think this over without him breathing down my neck or watching my mannerisms a little too closely. He always got like that when we would fight. His words made me feel unsteady. The carpet had been ripped out from underneath me. Once safely inside my room and my own bubble, I could focus and think rationally. Which was hard to do with someone like Phoenix. I loved him unconditionally, but sometimes he really did get on my nerves. He did things without telling me first, and his bubbly personality could be somewhat suffocating. I was a natural introvert. I shied away from people who were too loud or bright for my taste; it affected my functionality. Turns out my only caregiver is exactly the kind of person that unintentionally pressed every single button I had. Go figure.
I plopped down onto the blanket and pulled my copy of Into the Wild out from beneath my pillows. One of those guilty cliche comforts. It was a fascinating book honestly, and I've read it enough to quote it without thinking. The spine was practically in pieces, but I couldn't find it in myself to toss it and buy a hardback copy. Dad bought this copy for me when I was nine. He said all great adventurers have read it. I used to tell him I wanted to be an explorer and see things nobody knew existed. Turns out Chris Mcandless was a fairly devastated person. He couldn't handle the weight of the world around him. He came to terms with the reality of just how shitty this world is, and how your opinion doesn't matter unless you have an immense amount of wealth. His parents were very wealthy, and he realized his family were the kind of people he came to loathe. He grew to loathe himself. So he burned all of the cash in his pocket and wandered until he couldn't anymore.
I shoved it back underneath the pillow and kept feeling around. Underneath it was a blue felt journal. I popped the button seal on the book open and turned to the first page not mutilated by my squiggly writing. Tucked behind the spine of the fabric was a pen, the cap already off. I pressed the tip to the page. Writing helped me orient my thoughts.
I had many questions, just about all of them unanswered. First, why were we moving? I quickly wrote the question down. That was easy. We had no fucking money. I wrote "Get a job" in the margian. Next, where were we moving to? I started chewing on the end of the pen. I didn't have an answer for that one. I stormed off before I could ask anything. I don't regret it though, I'll find out eventually. When are we moving? My guess would be before I start junior year. It's the end of June, so it would make sense. I wrote "August?" on the line. How were we taking this trip? Now that one I had absolutely no answer for. We could be going a few houses down the street or so many states away that a plane is required. And what about schooling? If we remained local, I wouldn't have to worry about saying goodbye to anyone. But if we traveled far, I'd have to prepare for a whole new curriculum and schedule. Schooling is different in every state, extremely different in fact. Not that the laws of physics or trigonometry would change between now and junior year, but the ways of administering it to students could be the opposite of the way my school handles it now. I sighed. This was just too much to mull over at one time. I needed to stop considering possibilities and just accept the inevitable so I could plan my next course of action. A good night's sleep would do me good too. I shoved the pen back into the spine of the journal and tucked it back underneath my pillow so I could lay down. I did stay up for about an hour thinking things over again, but sleep came easy. It had been a long day.
***
I woke up to a For Sale sign perched next to our mailbox at the end of the drive. The blocky white letters seemed to mock me. I guess he was waiting to tell me before putting it up. I shut my blinds and headed to the bathroom to take my medication and brush my teeth. I splashed my face with water too, still avoiding my reflection. Once that was finished, I went downstairs to eat. Phoenix was using the landline in the kitchen. His voice quieted as I drew near. If he had something to hide, I was going to watch him like a hawk until I learned exactly what it was. He eyed me sympathetically as I passed by him to pull the milk from the fridge. As I was fixing myself a bowl of cereal, Phoenix continued talking on the phone.
"Eight might be a little early, my brother would still be asleep. How does nine sound?" He sounded very tired. I glanced at the analog clock perched on the back of the stove. It was 9:03. I looked back over at him, pulling a spoon out of the drawer. What did I have to be awake for? I picked up my bowl and brought it to the table, watching Phoenix in the doorway as I ate.
"Alright, tomorrow at nine. I will see you then." He put the phone back into its cradle and looked over to me. I raised an eyebrow and he crossed his arms over his chest.
"I scheduled an open house for tomorrow, so please make sure you're awake. You don't have to be here when they get here if you don't want to be." I shrugged indifferently. I didn't care who was here, I knew 'Nix wasn't going to let them touch any of my things.
"Who are the candidates?" I asked, putting another spoonful of Fruit Loops into my mouth. He moved from his spot in the doorway to sit down at the table. He spun the chair around to sit in it backwards, forearms resting on the back.
"A couple and their daughter. She's seventeen, so you should stick around and say hi." I laughed and took another bite. "Just because we're the same age doesn't mean she'll even want to talk to me," Phoenix narrowed his eyes and I sighed. "Fine, I'll say hi and give her the grand tour while you butter up the parents. Do they have a dog? I can go out and buy some treats. I'm sure we'll sell the house in no time!" I wagged my hands for emphasis.
Phoenix rolled his eyes. "I appreciate the enthusiasm. You giving her a tour doesn't sound like a bad idea. These transitions usually depend on the kids, so it would probably help. Be nice, maybe we can make a good impression."
"You got it." I stood to put my bowl in the sink and Phoenix followed. It thunked against the metal and I quickly sprayed it with water. I could feel Phoenix standing behind me. "Is there something wrong?" I asked, turning to face him. He shook his head.
"I know you aren't all about this, but do you think you could help me clean up? We could talk about everything. I know you have questions." He seemed nervous again. After a minute of thinking, I nodded. Once again, he wasn't wrong. The house was definitely due for a deep clean. Grieving makes it hard to do anything.
"You're right, I do have some questions." Phoenix smiled brightly and turned to start pulling sponges and chemical cleaners from the cabinet below the sink.
"Then let's start with the kitchen. What's been on your mind?" He tossed me a rag. We spent all day cleaning. I started by deep bleaching the linoleum, and I never knew so much dirt could wedge itself between the crevices of the tials. It was disgusting. Phoenix dusted the ceiling fans and shelves until we were choking on dust and had to open every window in the house. We chatted idly while we worked and discussing moving plans was surprisingly easy. I wasn't looking forward to it, but I wasn't angry anymore. Phoenix showed me our balance and he was right about not being able to afford the utility bill or the mortgage. He had college funds put away for a while which helped keep us from going underwater when dad died but the account has been sucked dry after a few months. There were still unpaid medical bills and the funeral was devastating to any inheritance we could've gotten. The breeze was nice and drove me to get on my hands and knees and scrub the shoe scuffs and dirt from the trim of the walls. Phoenix picked up all of the stray clothes from our rooms and the bathroom to be washed. I wiped down Dad's urn for the first time in weeks.
The chemical smell of artificial lemon clung to me like perfume. The house was so dirty from neglect, I was convinced the dirt would give me a complex. By the time dinner rolled around, we were both exhausted. But the house was squeaky clean and that's all either of us really cared about. We ate in a comfortable silence, each showered and went to bed early in preparation for tomorrow.
***
"Rise and shine!" My brother's voice called from the doorway. I groaned and turned towards the wall, away from his overly excited demeanor. He sighed and ripped my navy blue curtains open. The sun streamed into my room instantly, splashing everything with brighter colors. I growled and quickly sat up. He simply smiled at me and leaned against the wall, bouncing in his shoes. I got up and made my way over to my mahogany dresser, yanking clothes out and tossing them at the bed. The wood grain had chips in it. It used to be my grandfathers. Phoenix stood and watched me, a dopey smile lighting up his face.
"You're way too cheery for how early it is." I grumbled. He scoffed and I turned to him, my brows furrowed. "No, seriously. Are you sure you aren't running a fever? It's eight am and you're practically jumping." He raised an eyebrow and felt his cheeks.
"No, I don't think so." I rolled my eyes and slammed the drawers. I turned to him and he stood up straight. I walked to the window and shut the curtains.
"Get dressed, I'm making breakfast." I didn't answer him as he passed me. He ruffled my hair and I groaned, shutting the door behind him and locking it. He was too awake. At least he'd come off as endearing to the open house guests. When I stepped out of my room, everything looked different. Every door and window in the house seemed to be open. A light breeze traveled through the house and the air smelled of lavender. I didn't realize the house could feel so homey and welcoming. I moved down the stairs and my brother handed me a hash brown stuffed with cheese and bacon wrapped in a paper towel. I bit into it and burned my tongue. I kept chewing though and quickly swallowed when the doorbell echoed through the foyer. I took a deep breath and silently watched Phoenix rush over to welcome his guests in. He opened the door to two figures. The woman was about 5'4 and very curvy, with hair down to her waist. She had a bubbly smile like my brother and her blue eyes were wide and excited.
"It's so nice to meet you!" She eagerly shook my brother's hand and her strawberry blond curls bounced as she spoke. She had a Boston terrier in her arms and I guessed it was a girl by the pink color clipped around its neck. It's bug eyes timidly looked around. I kind of wish I bought those dog treats.
The man was intimidating and tall, a few inches taller than my brother. His dark hair was cut very short and slicked back. He looked like he needed a shave and his blue eyes looked very inquisitive. He also shook my brother's hand.
"Please come in. This is my brother Griffen." They both turned to me. "Thank you for having us." The father said to me, shaking my hand. He seemed quiet and reserved, critical even as he looked around at the house. The woman instead set the dog down and to my surprise, hugged me. She was so excited, I thought she would cry. At least they were friendly. This did happen really quickly. Maybe they felt lucky to find a listing easily. This was a beautiful house. I didn't hug her back, but I patted her shoulder as a hello. She let me go and turned to my brother again.
"Thank you so much for welcoming us into your home. Where are my manners? My name is Lisa Deuboe and this is my husband Patrick." Her voice rang with a twinge of something sothern.
"This little monster is Velma. She won't bite, no worries. And she's tinkle trained" Like, from Scooby-Doo? She gestured to the dog at her feet, which scurried off into the house as soon as more than one pair of eyes were on it. She turned to continue speaking and stopped, giving a small sigh. Her heels clicked along the floor.
"Nora, won't you come inside and meet everyone?". A burgundy sneaker crossed the threshold. She was timid. Eventually, a short and frail girl stepped into the room. She had long dark blond hair, same as her mother's except it was pin straight and hung around her like a curtain. She waved and went to stand next to her mother as Phoenix spoke with her father about the fireplace. She had on a gray knit cardigan that was much too big for her and a colorful band shirt underneath. She had her sleeves over her hands, her arms drawn tightly over her chest. She wouldn't look me in the eyes. It took me a moment to notice and I realized why. Her eyes were bright purple. I thought they were grey at first glance, but they were definitely purple.
I squinted to see them better. Our eyes briefly met and then she gazed at her feet. I silently chided myself, I hadn't realized I was staring. Her mother had noticed and gave a little giggle.
"Oh, I know. So neat. It's crazy how it skips a generation like that. Neither Patrick nor I knew we carried the gene. I was adopted and didn't know my real family, but we knew Patrick's father had purple eyes. Turns out my mother did as well and Nora got lucky." Lisa sounded really proud and Nora's cheeks quickly flared bright red.
"I think they're really cool." Everyone turned to me, even Nora looked up. I hadn't realized it was the first time I'd spoken. Her mother smiled even wider before taking a step over to her husband to join him and Phoenix's discussion. Nora gazed at me intensely, but I pretended not to notice. Phoenix clapped his hands together.
"Well, we have a few legalities to go over first and I can show you everything that's been renovated and changed from the original house plan. My brother offered to show Nora around if that's ok with you, Nora." She turned her head to me and then back to my brother and nodded. I shifted my feet and gestured to her to follow me. I figured I could show her the upstairs first.
"So, why did your family decide to move here?" I asked, turning to her as we climbed the stairs. She seemed to think for a moment before speaking.
"My dad got a sweet job offer and their marriage was starting to get really rocky. My mother had been seeing another man at her workplace. They thought a new start would have been better than going to therapy." I gave a laugh and she smiled, running her fingers along the glossy banister.
"We've been staying with my dad's mom while we house hunt." Her voice was soft and inviting, although she sounded very apprehensive. I nodded in understanding.
"That sucks. I'm sorry. I can't speak from experience, but I can sympathize." She turned to me. "How?" Her lavender eyes seemed to stare straight through me.
My eyes widened and I almost stopped walking. I had to remember how to speak for a moment. "My mom walked out on us when I was nine. She said she fell in love." Nora stayed quiet and then tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "Our mom's both have poor judgment." I laughed a bit too loud and it must have startled her, but she laughed too after a moment. As we reached the top of the stairs, she turned to me and asked, "Why are you and your brother moving?"
I mulled it over while Nora played with her hair, twisting a long piece of it around her finger. She did that a lot. She must be nervous. Her nails were painted a shiny navy blue. It was my favorite color, although I didn't mention it. "My dad passed away, so we can't afford to stay here." Her head shot up then, eying me curiously.
"I'm sorry that happened to you." Her bright eyes turned sad, and when she turned her head down, her hair formed a curtain and I couldn't see her face. I shrugged. "Bad things happen to good people without any kind of reason for it." she stared at her feet for a moment longer. "That's a good way to put it... That's rough. So you just live with your brother?" She asked, lifting her head up so I could see her face again. I nodded, but smiled in an attempt to lighten the mood. She smiled back and her eyes trailed to the walls above her, studying the art hanging along the stairs.
"This is the second floor. It's the same size as the downstairs, just more packed together." I spoke softly, my voice bouncing off of the powder blue halls. I didn't really know how to be my own realtor. Nora peeked out of the window facing the stairs. There were small dragonflies melted into the perimeter of the circle window, the greens, blues, and bright yellows of their wings casting copies of themselves onto the wood floor. She brought a hesitant hand to the glass. "This glass-work is beautiful." Her voice was very muted and I almost didn't hear her.
"It was a gift for my dad after I was born. His friend spent days on it to get the colors to settle correctly." She turned to me and smiled. "I'll upkeep it for you if we stay. It's too beautiful to let it fall to ruin." I smiled back at her and nodded. "Let's continue the tour, shall we?" I said, folding my hands behind my back and standing straighter. She giggled and began walking down the hall.
Nora turned to the first open door and we both stepped inside. It was the main bathroom. Our sneakers squeaked along the linoleum tiles and echoed off of the mint green walls. "Sweet bathroom." She said, leaning against the clawfoot tub to look out the window. I nodded and stepped over to the standing shower.
She looked away from the window to the shower and opened it. "It's nice. So much nicer than ours in Cincinnati." I turned to her and grinned. "You're from Cincinnati?"
"Born and raised. Have you lived here your whole life?" She asked, closing the shower door and walking over to the double sinks. "Yes, I have." She nodded and walked out of the bathroom and I trailed behind her. She walked towards my brother's room next, peeking inside but not going in. I guess she saw that it was fairly lived in. "That's my brother's room."
She turned to me and laughed. "He doesn't have very good taste. Doesn't he know the color yellow is a bad choice to paint the walls? It makes people go crazy." I laughed as well. "If that's the case, I think it's too late to save him." She chuckled and fiddled with a loose string on her sweater. She turned to my dad's room. The door was open, so she went inside. I stayed in the doorway. I hadn't been inside in almost two months, and it hurt to try to cross the threshold. She sat on the bed and looked around.
"This is my dad's room." I spoke quietly, smelling the air. It still smelled like him. It was very faint, but the stench of Newports and old cologne remained. Her head darted to me and she stood. "I- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-" "You're ok Nora. This is a house tour right?" She stayed quiet and nodded.
"Wanna keep looking around?" She nodded again and stepped out of the room, closing the door softly behind her. We turned the corner and it led to two more doors. One was open and she stepped inside.
"This is the guest room." The walls were painted a muted purple. After walking the perimeter and running a hand down the sheer curtains, she inched back to the hall. She seemed uninterested and moved to the last door. It was my room. She looked at me and I nodded. She opened the door and stepped inside. The walls were navy, matching the curtains. "Is this room..?" I nodded and sat on the bed. She sat beside me, sitting up straight and still. "I like this color. If we take the house, I'll take this room." She joked, her eyes fixed on the metal cabinet I had. The entire metal face was covered in stickers over lapping each other and peeling off. I nodded and smiled. She stood then and I followed. She must feel like she's intruding.
"Wanna see downstairs?" She nodded and we walked back down the winding steps in silence. My brother and her parents were speaking in the kitchen and I led her through the many rooms of the large house. She seemed really interested, but we didn't speak much. Everything remained on the topic of the house; paint swatches, locks on the doors, the occasional creaky floorboard. It wasn't until we were in the basement, sitting on the steps that she turned to me, and we had a different kind of conversation.
"Hey Griffin?" I turned to her. Her purple eyes were shining. "I wish I wasn't moving into your house." I raised an eyebrow.
"Why do you say that?" I asked, noticing the pink that dusted her cheeks. She looked away, gazing down at her feet.
"Because then you wouldn't be moving away."
I was a little startled. I didn't speak for what felt like minutes, just stared into her pale eyes. She raised an eyebrow at me and laughed, leaning her head forward to create that curtain. I laughed and leaned forward as well, attempting to see her expression.
"W-well, we can keep in touch." I said, squeezing my hand into a fist to stop myself from pushing her hair out of the way. She lifted her head and smiled, still avoiding my eyes. Then she nodded, reaching a hand into the pocket of her loose cardigan. She pulled out her phone, so I did the same and pulled up my phone number. She lifted her eyes from the screen to gaze at mine. I saw a smile pull at the corner of her mouth as she wrote it down.
"I'll be sure to text you." She said, putting her phone back into her pocket and standing. I stood as well and followed her up the creaky steps. Velma was waiting for us at the top, shaking her tail in excitement and running back and forth along the hall. Nora laughed and picked her up, perching her underneath one arm. I ended up showing her family out the door, receiving the message that they planned to return in three weeks and begin to move in. I'd definitely have to do some research about the eyes. It was really fascinating.