Gone Home✔️

Chapter 17: The Attic

It felt like everything was coming to a close.

Emerging from the narrow passageway beneath the stairs at least made me feel better. The well-lit, wide-open space combated the slight claustrophobia I'd been developing. Without wasting any time, I began to make my way upstairs, to the attic. It was time to end this, to see everything left there was to see, to discern, hopefully, the truth.

I tried not to think of my lingering questions as I made my way up the stairs and through the long hall that encompassed the second floor. I'd probably get an answer about dad's third book, that was the kind of thing you definitely talked to your family about. Either he'd get published or he wouldn't, but I wouldn't be left hanging. But his drinking? His awful relationship with his father? What had happened between him and his uncle Oscar decades ago? I didn't think I'd be hearing about any of that, especially that last one.

I'm not sure I wanted those answers.

The same thing went with mom. Did she cheat on dad? Did she almost cheat on dad? The way I saw it, there were one of two options. She had done it. Whether or not she had told him was an entirely other thing. And, either as a result of the guilt of cheating or as a result of telling dad, they had gone to couple's counseling. I really, really hoped it would work. Even with all that was going on, I didn't want to see my parents split up. The second option was that she had almost cheated on dad, and maybe that had been a wake-up call.

I thought I had it all worked out with Sam and her big mystery, but I had to know, I had to know for sure.

I arrived back at the attic, bathed in its ominous red glow from the strung up Christmas lights. I had to stand on my tiptoes to get the key up into the lock and turn it, but I managed it. I pocketed the key and then grabbed the latch. Pulling it down, I stepped back, out of the way, as the stairs unfolded, coming to the floor.

I stared up into the hole in the ceiling.

There were more Christmas lights strung up along the ceiling. All I could see were them and an unfinished wall of wooden planks. Moment of truth. It was time to take the leap of faith. I took in a deep breath, let it out slowly, then climbed up the ladder, into the attic. There were boxes to the immediate right, obscuring my vision. As I got up, I saw another unfinished wall to the left and, up against it, another box.

And on this box was, of all things, a little wicker nest. For a moment, I was utterly stymied by the strange feeling of intense recognition of this thing but not being able to place it at all. Then, something clicked and I had it.

This was the Christmas Duck's home!

I had to return the Christmas Duck here...but later. I moved around the boxes, deeper into the attic. Dead ahead was a rounded area and, judging by the lamp with the flexible neck that was on, perched on a box, overlooking a sleeping bag, it seemed that Sam had set up shop here. This must be where she and Lonnie hung out. The rounded area had three windows. I had to admit, it was a great view...or, well, it would be during daylight.

There were two pieces of paper on the sleeping bag.

I felt a tremor of intense sorrow ripple through me as I read over the first page. It was a very well-done drawing of the locket that Sam and Lonnie had purchased...only it was broken down the middle, separating the S and the L. Written around it was a message: Sam...I'll always remember what we had. Stay strong. Kick ass. I love you. -Lonnie. And, worst of all, there were several light stains on the paper...dried tears.

With a great effort, I reigned in control.

And read the next one.

It was another journal.