You Won't Find Me There

I used to be afraid of the lone house at the end of Hatton Drive. Not of what it held inside, but of what it didn’t.

“You really oughta go down there and go through everything already. It’s gonna sit and stew and rot. Especially that truck, and I know how much you…” On and on went Kim’s never-ending rant. Yes, I needed to do this and that and everything. And that’s all it was those days. Your grandparents who raised you die, and suddenly everyone needs you to do everything.

After she cornered me in our tiny kitchen in our tiny apartment and being on the receiving end of her lecture for the fifth time, I had it. “So what if it does rot? It’s stuff. And the last thing we need is more stuff.”

“Jim, I swear… Look, if you don’t get to it soon, you know what’s gonna happen. Everything will just get auctioned off. You don't want the house. Fine. Whatever. I can get over that. But do you really want some random Joe snatching up that car?” I knew I was really losing it if even the sound of my own wife just saying my name nearly set me off. Jim, when are you getting to this? Jim, when are you getting to that? Jim, will you get off your behind? Jim, Jim, Jim.

Jim and Kim. Grandpa would practically slur our names together ‘til they became one sound. Jim’n’Kim. Kim’n’Jim. “Like Slim Jim. Ha!” I hated that joke. If I only I knew I would eventually long to hear it again.

“Hon, I’ll get to it when I get to it, alright? It’s stuff. It’s not them.”

And there lied the problem. It wasn’t because there was too much to go through or because I didn’t want any of it. Seeing someone’s belongings without the owner to go with them was…jarring, to say the least. Like that strange sensation you get when you see a cane lying on the ground. Someone’s purse spilled out on the table. A forgotten glass of water sitting by the sink still half full. No one knows to put things away and clean up before you scramble out of your house for what is unknowingly the final time. And the contents of your life will forever look like they’re waiting for you to pick them right back up.

That’s what I didn’t want to see.

My plan to put it all off until everyone forgot to keep asking me failed. Because of course it did.

I walked into work at the garage and before I could even punch in, Nathan stopped me.

"Jim, what're you doing here? Your wife called and said you're taking the rest of the week. 'Bout time, too. I know how much you gotta get done-"

"The rest of the week? What-" Before I could even hatch a new scheme to get him off my case, Nathan grabbed me by the shoulders and spun me around toward the door.

"Look, before you even start on how much you can't afford to miss a few days, don't worry about it. You're still getting your full paycheck. And that's on me, huh?" He winked as he opened the door and slapped me on the back, his way of saying, Get out.

I sat in my car and thought about the 15-minute drive to the south side of town. A drive that would end in me facing everything I was afraid of. And it was that thought that allowed me to snap back a bit. Afraid? Afraid of what, a house? I was really stewing over four brick walls?

I scoffed at nobody and started the engine. Afraid of a house. What was I thinking?

Everything about the drive blurred together. Each turn was made by rote, seeing the Carters out plowing barely registered in my mind, and I didn't even look at anyone I passed. Mark would later tell me I ignored him when he waved. But I didn't see anything except the road directly ahead of me.

It wasn't until I saw the hedge that was starting to grow over the sign for Hatton Drive that I fully realized what I was doing. I was going to drive to the end of the street and see a brick ranch with evergreen shutters. I would see gardenia bushes one step away from being a lost cause, the ones that Nana never let look anything less than fresh. I would see dandelions sprouting up in the yard, despite all of Grandpa's painstaking work to fight them off. I would see a partially open garage with a North Carolina Blue 1965 Chevy C10 just visible.

It was all waiting. Not for me. For them.

I parked on the street, not in the driveway. As if that was somehow going to disturb the scene in front of me. I stared and stared. Maybe I was waiting for someone to call for me like they always did. Jimmy! Why haven't you come to see us in so long?

But it was silent save for birds chirping in the small oak tree in the front yard. Grandpa, you guys should really just cut it down. There's gonna be a storm eventually with just the right wind speeds, and next thing you know, you got a tree in your living room. The tree stayed.

Two more seconds of stalling, and I realized there was no one left to fool. I was there. Might as well. I walked up the driveway to the front door, a trek I had made a countless number of times and had never given any thought to until that moment. The ten or so steps up the nearly flat cement seemed like climbing uphill. When the looming front door was finally in front of me, I fished the key that never left my person out of my pocket. If my hand shook as I did so, no one was there to see.

A lock clicked, a knob turned, and hinges creaked and squeaked.

Maybe I was waiting for a noise or something to move because I held my breath for a few moments before taking the first step inside. It looked like...a house. Like Nana and Grandpa's. Only it felt like looking at a painting or a photograph. Like everything was frozen in time. The grandfather clock ticking away in the corner let me know time was in fact still passing.

Everything was so still, from the brown recliners and plaid couch to the bookshelf and piano up against the far wall of the living room. Did it all cease to be real because...because what, they're never coming back?

I again found myself snapping back to reality, shocked by my own thoughts.

Maybe I had truly lost it. I was just there to organize and do an inventory, not have a crisis. I'll just start with the books. Easy, I thought.

The white phone sitting on the end table by the recliner caught my eye. Because there was a piece of paper next to it with Nana's handwriting.

Jimmy,

Had to run out. See you soon.

My breath shook along with my hands then. I was supposed to come by that night. They must have been in such a rush, they didn't call. And I never got the note. Kim and I got the call before I had even left.

The stillness felt like a weight, suddenly. There wasn't enough air. I stumbled and tripped my way to the window, unlatching it with trembling fingers. As soon as I pushed it up, it was instant relief. I exhaled, and a rush of air went with my breath. Not from a breeze outside. The wind was completely still at that moment. No, it was like the house itself exhaled with me.

I turned around to face the living room again, and I no longer saw it as a painting, frozen in time. I could practically see myself as a little tike, racing my toy cars around the carpet. I could see our Christmas Tree lit up in the corner while I opened my one gift for the year and Nana and Grandpa grinned, pleased as punch as I did so. I could see us all crying tears of joy together on the couch as I told them I was going to ask Kim to marry me.

I took a deep breath, and again, the house seemed to breathe with me.

See you soon.

Nana was right. I would see them soon.

Just not here.

Right. I'll start with the books...

***

This idea struck me out of nowhere today, so I sat down to write it as soon as I could. I wrote it all in one go, so it may be a bit rough in spots. Let me know your thoughts/feedback in the comments! Thanks for reading!