RoseBlood

The Tyrels

The Tyrels probably would have stayed all day if I'd asked them to, but I need to think some things over. Be alone in my house, with my thoughts, before things will start running a little more smoothly for me, and I'll be going back to college and to a life I was making for myself. This house of my parents' didn't feel the same now they were gone, like I was out of place being here, in an abandoned family home with only their things left as reminders in wardrobes and drawers and cupboards.

The money would last long enough for me to keep it, but with all the spare space, empty bedrooms, modern furnishing... did I even want it? Is it worth keeping, now?

It's just a house. Not a home.

"Well, we'll get going then," Edith says uncertainly, smiling at me. "If you're sure. I mean, I know you can manage fine by yourself, but..."

"I'll be fine," I confirm. "Don't worry. I'll give you a call later, okay?"

"Yeah, and think about what he said," Elias adds, nodding at his brother, who stands watching us by the window, "if you wanna come over and join the Tyrels, do it. You've got a place with us, you know?"

I smile and nod at him thankfully, and he nods back, opening the front door and going to their car. Edith gives me a hug and follows after him, then stops at the door, glancing back at Emerson.

"Coming, then?"

"In a minute," Emerson responds, and I look between them in bemusement. Edith seems confused too, but she nods slowly, a small smile on her face as she backs out of the room to Elias outside.

I turn my attention to Emerson, raising a brow expectantly. He's looking past me, at those photos on the wall, photos that belong in a family house. Sunny weather and smiling faces with a child in the middle of every one. Never too busy.

"We took most of our photos down," Emerson tells me, "after Dad died. Sometimes, in the few days just after his death, I'd be so out of it that I'd think it was him. Scared the hell out of me."

I smile slightly. "Oh."

Emerson's dark gaze sweeps over to mine. "Would you feel comfortable moving, Holly? Or... or staying?"

I sigh, shrugging. "I don't really know. I can't see myself staying here for long, though. Not because I'm scared of ghosts or whatever, but... I don't know, I just feel out of place. It's a big house, and I either live in it alone and spend half my money supporting the costs and stuff, or I get some random housemates, which I hate the thought of. Or I just pack up and leave. Go somewhere that suits me better. And sort through my parents' stuff properly, give some of it away to people they knew and the rest to other places. I want to keep some things, I think."

"Yeah. Keep some things," Emerson agrees. "We gave away Dad's clothes and some other things of his, but kept his books. Case books, fiction books. And he used to collect little things from different places, like momentos of the things he'd done and seen. We kept them."

"Well, I don't think my mum and dad will have anything too meaningful," I think out loud. "They were real estate workers, not anywhere near as interesting as detectives. I've looked through most of what they have anyway. I think the main things I like are the photos. Those were their momentos, I guess. I kind of wonder whether they ever looked at them after they were framed and thought about when it was taken. Or if they got so used to seeing them on the walls and in wallets that they didn't bother. Who knows."

"Even if they were always busy and working," Emerson says, "they were still your parents. They still loved you, Holl. It's just... well, everyone has their own way of showing it, and it can take a while to realise."