The Lake Behind the House

There was always something about the lake behind the house that made me curious. We lived in Howard County, Maryland in a beautiful home built by my dad. There was a playground in the yard, a huge sycamore tree with a surrounding garden, and that damned lake in the distance. My dad, Lou met my mom, Lyla when he was 19. My mom was only 16, but it was the love of music that brought them together. My dad played the trumpet, and my mom had the voice of an angel. When my mom turned 18, she left home so she and my dad could travel the world. From 1974 – 1976, they performed at talent shows and hot spots in major cities. In August 1976, they released a cassette featuring their hit song “By the Sea.” It was a song of love lost at sea. When I heard the song for the first time it was chilling because my parents always loved each other. I couldn’t tell if the song was metaphorical or just as a simple as the title. Either way, the cassette earned buzz but never made it globally, which was never an issue because that one cassette and show earnings allowed my dad to build their dream home. By 1977, the house stood two stories high with a basement, five bedrooms, a den, and a kitchen so big three families could eat at once. I was born in 1991, fourteen years after the last stone was laid. I wondered why they ever needed a home that big. I mean, it was only the three of us and before me only the two of them! It seemed ridiculous but I was thankful. My parents were the greatest, so they deserved everything they wanted and more. We lived a great life. They always called me their blessing.

Growing up there were plenty of kids in the neighborhood, but we barely spoke. I always wondered why everyone was so distant. I figured it was the miles of greenery that ran between homes. Somehow, through the tall trees and long roads, Eleanor and I found one another and became best friends. Our favorite thing to do was pick strawberries in the yard on Saturday mornings. We’d eat the ones we snuck by the lake and watch the waves roll in from boats in the distance. She’d always say, “Marz, I can’t wait ‘til we can ride boats in the summer. We could go anywhere!” In 2003, Eleanor died from the flu. Saturday mornings were never the same and for some reason I hated the lake even more. Boat waves appeared less, and sunsets just weren’t the same. It was around this time I developed an imaginary friend. His name was Sill. He was the first one to notice the leak that dripped from my window sill during the rainstorms, so that’s what I called him. I could tell Sill was a little older than me, but he never told me his age. We literally did everything together…swing in the yard, play hide-n-seek, and he even got me to enjoy the sunset again. No one could ever replace Eleanor, but there was something so familiar about Sill that made us closer than anyone. He always wore brown boots, and he had the cutest dimple in his left cheek. Sill was my friend, and though he was imaginary he felt so real. He told me that Eleanor missed me. I always wondered how he knew that, and he’d say he saw her in a dream. Sill loved the lake. He would always ask if I wanted to go for a swim but, I couldn’t swim, and I’d never swim in that lake anyway.

In the night, and even during the day, I’d see ripples dance in the water. Dad told me it was just fish, maybe ‘gators even. Funny thing is, dad would always fish at the local river, and have you ever heard of alligators in Maryland? While dad avoided the lake, mom said her morning prayers by the water every day. She always asked for protection, peace, love, and forgiveness. I could sometimes see Sill watching mom in the distance. Although she couldn’t see him, she told me he was an angel. Dad called me crazy. He thought I was just a silly kid imagining things...but I saw Sill until the day I moved away for college. Before I left for school, mom let me pick out some of my favorite items of hers from the attic. I always loved her blue dress with grey and white flowers. I grabbed that, some vintage Gucci shades, a gold ring, and a few books. During my second semester at college, I got a call from dad. Mom drowned in the lake. Apparently, she had been rinsing berries from the yard and fell in. I couldn’t understand how she’d be so careless. It broke my heart, but at least I had things to remind me of her. In the books I found old hand-written song lyrics, letters, and photos. The letters were sad and personal, I could never finish. In the photos of her and dad there was a boy. The back of the photo named Lyla (33), Lou (36), and Marley (12). They never told me about him so I couldn’t quite figure out who he was. I assumed he was a neighbor, or just a boy who worked in the yard with dad. The photos made me miss dad and the house. By my third semester I was too depressed to study so I returned home to live with dad.

The house was filled with sadness. The garden was overgrown with weeds, and the lake became even eerier. I hated it. It killed mom. It killed our happiness. That’s when Sill appeared again. He sat on the swing beside me, and we talked about mom for hours. He told me that if I took a swim in the lake, it would make me feel better, “if you look close enough, you’ll see her,” he said. I don’t remember what happened after that. I just recall waking up soaked with dad holding my head in his arms. He told me I jumped in the lake and that I was lucky he was nearby to save me. I knew that wasn’t true. I would never touch that lake. He blamed it on depression. I could see Sill watching from afar. He didn’t have the gleeful glare he once did, his eyes were cold. I didn’t see him for weeks after that, which was honestly a relief.

Dad and I tried bringing warmth to our home again. It’s what mom would’ve wanted. I visited the attic every day to find more of mom’s things. I loved reading her journal recalling the days her and dad traveled together. It was the letters that were always so sad. I found one addressed to Marley, the boy in the photo. The last line read “you will always be with me, and I will always be with you.” The words were so moving, I just had to know who he was and what happened to him. I asked dad about Marley and showed him the photo I found. He snatched the photo from my hands and told me to stay out of mom’s things. It was weird. Dad was never aggressive, only stern. I went against his wishes, eager to learn more about Marley. At night, I’d sneak into the attic to rummage through more of mom’s things. I found more photos, one of Marley holding a huge fish next to dad by the lake. Why was dad withholding information from me? As I glanced at more photos, I noticed the dimple on Marley’s left cheek. I knew he seemed familiar, but I couldn’t quite figure it out. I heard footsteps approaching and dad appeared. In shock, I dropped the photos. His large, cold hand slapped my face as he ordered me to never come in the attic again. I managed to sneak a few more books under my dress and left the attic quickly as tears fell from my eyes. I skimmed the books for hours at night in my room, finding little notes, more letters, and photos. I found the lyrics to their song “By the Sea:”

“Oh, by the sea, you and me you and me.

What we once thought and dreamed oh, it’ll never be

‘Cause you left me by the sea, by the sea

One day you’ll visit me in a dream by the sea…”

Stapled to the lyrics was a newspaper from 1989. The headliner was about a boy who drowned in a nearby lake. From the dimple on the left cheek, I could tell it was Marley. The article read “Lou and Lyla mourn the death of their son, Marley who drowned in a lake behind their home.” A lump began to form in my throat and my heart dropped. Sill appeared at my door, that’s when I noticed the brown boots and the dimple in his left cheek. Sill wasn’t Sill, he was Marley, and he was my older brother. He reached for my hand and asked if I wanted to see mom. He took me by the lake. I finally jumped in. The water was cold and dark. I could hear dad yelling for me in the distance. His voice grew faint as the water surrounded me. I saw mom, and Marley swam by her side. The next morning, dad seemed sad. He wouldn’t talk to me. He wouldn’t even look at me, he just cried.