The Face in the House

Epilogue

A lot can change in two years.

Malcolm had graduated, gotten a job, moved to the city. Owen was officially cancer-free.

Still, Malcolm spent every night at Thornewood House.

In his dreams, he saw every detail. They weren't nightmares, not really, though they often left him shaking, sweating, and gasping for air. In the dreams, he was just there. He saw the fibers of the velvet curtains, the places where the wallpaper lifted and curled, the warm yellow light filtering through the window in the kitchen. He saw Poole's eyebrows, downturned in concentration, saw the delicate black lace against the pale skin of Teddy's chest.

They were always there in the dreams. Not as characters, really . . . just as images. Integral facets of Thornewood House.

Then came the fire. It traveled through the house like a wave, licking every corner, but burning nothing. It touched Teddy's dress and her face never changed. The buttons on her gown never melted. Her skin never darkened or blistered. Poole was much the same. As the fire surrounded him, his eyes remained fastened to his work, as if nothing strange at all was happening . . .

Malcolm gasped awake, and arms were around him in seconds. The warmth and the weight of them soothed him until his breathing returned to normal.

"It's okay," Julian whispered. "It was just a dream."

Just a dream didn't seem quite accurate to Malcolm, but he let Julian soothe him. He was good at that. It was one of the reasons Malcolm was so sure he wanted him in his life, maybe forever. Malcolm sat up to face him.

"Sorry about that," he said.

It was early morning, the room was grey. The walls were bare and boxes surrounded them. The only furniture they had managed to set up yesterday was the bed, so they could promptly collapse into it after a full day of moving. The reality of it hit him like lightning -- they were living together. They were building a life together.

Fear wormed its way into Malcolm's heart. Would Julian ever get tired of soothing him? The dreams came night after night after night . . .

"Don't be sorry," Julian said, and kissed him.

Malcolm smiled, and allowed the warmth the wash over him. It was something he had been actively working on, ever since he left Thornewood. Happiness didn't let itself in. He had to open the door and invite it in.

He did, and he felt better.

They got dressed in whatever clothes they could find, and began unpacking. It would take all day, and Malcolm was grateful for the project. He found it difficult to relax these days, his mind so often reset to its default state of panic when it wasn't fully occupied.

Julian was the cook of the relationship, so he insisted on organizing the kitchen. Malcolm had no problem with that. He was much more excited about setting up his PC in the tiny office nook off the bedroom. It was a small room, but it was bright and airy. One window stretched across the entire wall, letting in the warm morning light and the scene of the city. It was his favorite room. He set up the desk, the chair, and started hooking up the computer when he heard a crash in the kitchen.

"Ah -- Jesus!" Julian shouted, as another crash sounded.

Malcolm jumped to his feet to help.

"What happened?" Malcolm said when he reached the kitchen.

The floor was littered with pots and pans and silverware, luckily nothing breakable. Julian stood in the center of the room, looking embarrassed.

"Nothing, just a spider," Julian said, "Just a giant spider."

Malcolm felt every hair on his body stand on end as his skin prickled.

"I'll get it," Malcolm said.

Julian looked grateful and relieved. He stepped away from the cupboard.

"Here, use this," Julian said, handing him a boot he'd fished from one of the boxes.

Malcolm took it, then set it down, thinking. He fished a paper cup from last night's fast food delivery out of the trash, and a bit of junk mail from the counter.

He found it in the cupboard, and just as Julian said, it was big. Its black legs were hairy and its body was thick. He resisted the urge to shudder as he reached for it with the cup. When the cup came down on it, the spider twitched against the sides. He slipped the envelope beneath the cup and lifted it out of the cupboard, the spider trapped inside. He could feel the weight of it on the envelope, against the palm of his hand.

"Thinking about going vegan?" Julian joked as Malcolm went for the door.

Malcolm laughed. He stepped outside and found a grassy area to release the spider. He didn't think about what he was doing, he was just going through the motions. For some reason, this felt right.

He let the spider drop out of the cup and onto the grass. It landed bluntly, and stood stiff and unmoving. Malcolm watched with curiosity. It could be dead, but he knew it wasn't. It was just threatened, playing dead until the threat was gone.

He looked away, as if giving the spider some privacy. The sun was breaking through the horizon, he spotted it between the high-rise apartment buildings and offices that made up his new home. He closed his eyes, felt the sun on his face.

He would never get tired of that feeling.

When he turned his gaze back down, the spider was gone.