The Past Should Stay There

The Past Should Stay There

As a real estate agent, my daily morning ritual was to turn on my PC, sit down on my comfortable chair, place my coffee mug on a coaster, and then settle down to work. Returning emails, setting up properties to view, and then my favourite part; scanning new listings. I loved looking through the new listings. With this market, everyone was trying to capitalize on it, prices were through the roof and houses sold quickly, so as an agent I had to keep up with inventory daily to stay slightly ahead of the game.

Some of the listings I looked at solely for that reason, to know the market for my buyers, but others I looked at out of the love of old houses. Seeing how well they have been preserved while adding modern touches of convenience. The ones that were able to do this well were my favourites. I grew up in this town and never left, so have had 55 years to get to know it. I had pockets of houses here and there that I mentally drooled over. The turn of the century homes, the 20th century that is, and they were architecturally more pleasing than any mansion built today. They had character and style and were usually not of the cookie cutter variety that most subdivisions are nowadays.

So I scanned my favourite areas first and then less excitedly looked at the rest of new listings in town and then finally looked at the new rural listings. I was no expert at these types of listings but every once in a while I would have a client that wanted out of the city, so I would do my best to help them relocate to a more idyllic setting. I had one of these clients now, a family that wanted to raise their 3 kids where the air was fresh and where they could all run barefoot through paths in the trees. I had to admit that sounded pretty good. It was proving a tough find, as their budget was a little on the low side and everything close to town was pretty pricey as a lot of folks had that same idea. I had recently expanded my search further out, and now listings up to 75 miles away popped up in my daily search. There were only 3 of those that appeared this morning. I looked at them but with no real expectations. Having become accustomed to finding listings that were obviously poor options. Rundown, overpriced, no acreage…. there were a lot of reasons to put a large X on most properties and so far in 3 months I have only been able to find 2 places to show them. Neither worked, and for good reasons.

Today, of the three I looked at, the first looked like a firesale, one of the actual fire variety, so an easy X. The second was not really a country property as it was in a little hamlet and had a yard the size of my living room, so another one easy to cross off. The third one almost made me spill my coffee. I looked at it and froze. My coffee halfway to my lips. The coffee in the mug sloshing dangerously at the abrupt stop. This house I knew! The picture even showed the barn in the background. I stared at the picture for minutes, not moving at all. I realized I was sweating and that my breath was coming in quick rasps. My mouth hung open, my hands shook, and my heart was pounding so hard I thought it would suddenly burst through my chest and I would look up to see Ripley blasting away at the alien lifeform erupting out with my last breath. No such luck.

I managed to place the mug on the coaster, and then was able to place my head in the classic plane crash position between my knees. My hands cradling my head and covering my eyes. I peer through them, up at the screen every few minutes just to be sure, to make sure that my mind isn’t playing tricks, that this really is the place. There is no doubt. No matter how much I have tried to repress it, that view, from the long driveway onto the farm, with the large barn dwarfing and shadowing the main house is burned into my memory. The trees and hills in the background showing how isolated it was.

It took me a long time to compose myself enough to actually click on the little picture, bringing me to the details of the listing. I looked first at the name on the property ownership, my eyes glued to the screen, all the breath expelled from me and not remembering or knowing how to breathe more in. There it was. His name and yet not only his name. It was an estate sale. The Estate of Rev. Graham Fletcher. It was a long moment before my breath returned. My mind in turmoil. Thoughts jumping, racing through my head at great speed before finally stopping at the one and only conclusion. My hands clench into tight fists and my whole body shakes as decades of repressed emotions overwhelm me.

I am not sure how long I sat there before I was able to move. With the Reverend now passed away maybe there was a chance that the continuous worry was over. Maybe now everything could be forgotten. It was time to let the others know. In moments like this I was thankful for technology, as all it took was one group text, asking the others to meet tomorrow morning for breakfast, at our normal place. I had news!

The rest of that day I was a mess internally, and the only thing I was able to do was to work myself into such a state that my insides soon became my outsides. In a way, it was a relief, not just of the obvious kind, but because it allowed me to avoid my family for the most part. No one wants to be close to someone making those kinds of noises internally. I needed to be alone and my wife and my kids gave me space, which I used to go back and look at that listing again. I had hoped I was wrong, but it was most definitely the place. There were pictures of the property, 5 of them. Three were of the house, another of the outside of the barn and showing part of the horse paddock, but none of them even registered in my brain. I clicked the last one to enlarge it. It was an interior shot of the barn, and it was exactly as I have it memorized. Large, extremely large, decades before I was in it, the barn had been the venue for large square dances, as it was wide open, with just two rows of support columns holding up the hay loft on the second floor. Even the light stands on the little stage were still there. In my mind I could picture all of the cameras too. It looked like nothing had changed in the 40 years since I was there last. I quickly did the math in my still befuddled mind and sure enough it was exactly 40 years ago, the summer of my 15th birthday that I spent every weekend there.

Every day since that summer I have tried to forget it happened. Tried to forget that whole summer ever existed. As hard as I tried, it never really left my mind. It was there, fighting for space in my head when I proposed to my amazing wife, wanting me to tell her. To share my shame. To let her know my darkest secret. I tried many times over the years, as it ate away at me. Gnawing at me, chewing sizable chunks out of my soul, but I kept my mouth shut and silently prayed to a god I didn’t really believe in, that the news would never leak.

Every time I watched the local news and they had a breaking story, my stomach went into knots, and I physically curled up, until the reporter whisked my worries away with a report of a break-in, a fire, a flood, or any number of other lesser important news. Never anything from that long ago summer.

Next morning, I was at the diner where we had been meeting since we became adults. Before that, we met weekly at the park, taking turns on the swings as we carefully avoided mentioning anything from there, but somehow feeling safer when all of us were together. Sharing the unspoken humiliation seemed to help. We have met weekly ever since, and though we never speak of it, we know we will continue to meet until there is no one to meet with anymore.

I called this special breakfast 2 days early and when everyone was there, I dramatically slapped copies of the listing on the table. All 4 of them grabbed one and I watched their faces as slowly the reality of what it meant sank in. They had that same pale, stunned look I had yesterday. The same combination of fear and shame, but also relief. I soon crushed that last feeling. I told them how I had driven up to see the place very early, and there I found a box in the barn with our names on it. The Reverand’s son was there and he knew who I was. He gave me the box but said that there had been more copies made and he was afraid one set of the videos had already been posted online.

I watched as their expressions grew grim and then with one last look around, we each grabbed a video from the box and headed home. Slumped with the weight of it all. Our world about to crash. Our lives changing forever. Stares and pointed fingers all we had to look forward to.

I went home and promptly called a family meeting. Making my wife and eldest son come home from work. The younger 2 children home already. I sat them all on the couch, the video cued up, but the tv off for now. They looked worried, scared. The only other time a family meeting like this was when there was a death in the family. A cousin we all loved.

They could see from how pale I looked and how my hands shook as I held the tv remote, that this was something serious. I waited until they were quiet, until I had their complete attention. Then I quietly explained that I had something I had to show them, something I wanted them to see before they saw it online. Before a friend pointed it out to them. I owed them that much.

Now they were afraid. My youngest was 17, and in this day and age has seen more than I ever could. The internet was good for that. I knew that they were mature enough to see it, but how would they handle it when they saw their father and husband on the screen. Things would soon be seen that would never be unseen, things that I had hoped would never see the light of day, but that day was here. The time was now.

I told them I loved them dearly and as I walked out of the room, I pressed the play button. The video was cued up to the start, and as it began to play, I heard their collective gasp. As I hurried to the kitchen, needing a glass of milk for my suddenly churning stomach, I heard the anticipated next sound. Riotous laughter. Howling shrieks of laughter. That exact moment is when my dirty little secret was exposed, and I knew my life was over. Soon EVERYONE would know I used to be in a boyband.