I nodded. It did look just the same. It probably should have been a warning to me, since New York life changes so quickly, but it wasn’t.
The thing was, the house looked abandoned. The front door was even open a crack while the rest of the house seemed to retreat inside its dark windows. The neighbors, very close by along the sides, seemed to have a lot more life and vibrancy. Their buildings seemed to dance in the air.
This building looked dead.
“I guess no one has lived here for some time,” Maximus said, and when I looked over at him, he was inspecting the pot that had held the palm tree. Now the tree was dry and curled around itself, dead to the world.
“I guess not,” I said, blinking at the way the plant had changed. Property like this wouldn’t last more than a week in the city.
“So, we’ve seen it,” Ada said quickly. “Time to head back.”
I looked at her and noted how damn scared she looked. She kept rubbing her hands along her arms, as if it weren’t eighty degrees out and we were all sweating.
“Not yet,” her mother said and I turned to see her on the landing, opening the door to the house.
“Mom, no,” Perry said but her voice sounded like it was swallowed up by a non-existent wind.
It was too late. She stepped inside and disappeared.
Well, fucking great. Like hell I was going to be shown up by my mother-in-law. This wasn’t her damn house.
I ran up the brick stairs, my hand skirting the black iron railing, and followed her into the foyer.
I immediately felt a change in air pressure. I flexed my jaw, trying to get my ears to pop while I got my bearings.
I stood in the foyer and looked around. My body immediately calmed, like a wave of clarity came over me. I had done good. I don’t know how, but I had done good by coming here, by bringing everyone.
The place was dark, all familiar shadows. A thick layer of dust coated the floor and stuck to the chandelier above. Everything was exactly how I remembered it, down to the furniture. Even the same paintings hung from the walls, including one I used to love, Renoir’s Les Dejeuner des Canotiers. While Perry’s mom walked forward, stepping cautiously down the hall, I ducked into the living off to the side.
It had the most light, the windows large and tall, facing the street. There was a Christmas tree in the corner of the room branches brittle but still green, strands of cobwebs strung up over the lights. Stranger than that, there were presents underneath it. Just a few, but they were there, still wrapped. Waiting.
I stared at that for a few moments. I could almost make out “Declan” on one of them. A strange droning, buzzing sound came from inside the package and I had the sudden urge to go look at it, open it, but suddenly Perry was at my side.
“What the hell?” she breathed and I froze in a cloud in front of her face. I hadn’t even noticed it had been that cold in here. “Whoever was here last, must have had to leave before Christmas time.” She timidly walked across the room, to the mantle above the fireplace where Michael’s trophies were displayed. “I can’t believe they never came back for their stuff.”
I was here last, I thought as she peered at the closest trophy.
She looked to the next trophy, blinking hard. “These are all for Michael O’Shea,” she said, her voice soft and confused. “I don’t get it.” She looked at me. “Dex, was your family the last ones in this house?”
“This is all our stuff. But it I don’t know, there must have been other people. That was so long ago. We would have sold the house, I know we would have.”
“Wow.” I turned to see Maximus behind me, taking it all in. “You can feel that, right?”
“It’s freezing,” Ada said, stepping into the house, the last of us. “And it’s giving me the willies.” She went to close the door behind her and Maximus shouted out, “No, don’t!”
But it was too late. The door closed. Not sure why that made me smile.
Ada gave Maximus an odd look then reached for the knob and yanked on it. The door opened right away and I could see the relief on his face. It was like he expected us to be locked inside. Actually, I expected that too. In some ways, I wanted it.
Now that I was here, I had no intention of leaving.
I was home.
“So this place is freaking you out, is it?” I said to Maximus with a smug smile.
His gaze on me was trained and careful. “There’s definitely a feeling here.” He looked at Perry. “You feel it, it’s heavy, the air.”
“Could be all the dust,” Ada said, wrinkling her nose. She walked down the hall toward where her mother disappeared. As she passed the Renoir painting, something in the painting moved. It was barely noticeable. Ada didn’t pick up on it. But the black eyes of the woman in the background, leaning on the railing, watched her move past.
Then the eyes were looking at me. I sucked in my breath until I felt a hand at my waist.
I jumped and whirled around to see Perry staring up at me, a hurt expression on her face.
“What is it?” she asked.
I shook my head and eyed the painting. It wasn’t moving now. Suddenly I was glad that the front door had opened when Ada tried it. Why some part of me wanted to stay in here was beyond me. I felt like it was already starting to mess with my head.
Don’t tell them that, a man’s voice came into my thoughts.
I turned around, certain that it was Maximus right behind me, talking. But he was paused at the foot of the stairs, as if debating whether to go up or not. I wanted to tell him that was a bad idea. All of this was a bad idea. Whatever clarity I had moments ago was gone.
And yet, I felt compelled to keep exploring.
“Where did my mom and Ada go?” Perry asked suddenly, looking panicked.
“We’re in the kitchen!” Ada’s voice rang out from around the corner.
“Maybe we should just all stick together,” Maximus said, stepping away from the staircase. “I don’t think splitting up is a good idea.”
I laughed, despite myself. “It’s not a haunted house, Scooby Doo.”
He exchanged a look with Perry but didn’t say anything. I was starting to hate all their little glances and unsaid words. Still, I followed them.
The kitchen looked exactly as I had remembered. I mean, to a fault.
The table was made with settings for three people. One at the head – where Pippa would sit. The other two across from each other at mid-table. There was never a place for my father – he was never home – and there stopped being a place for my mother. She was just never sober enough.
Each setting had a red, white and black graphic woven placemat, something Swedish that Pippa had picked out, a plate, a fork, a knife. There were matching graphic napkins held together with a silver circle. Her place had a white glass. The other two had mugs.
One of the mugs said Michael. The other said Declan.
Perry’s mother was standing over them in a daze. She slowly raised her head and looked right at me.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why are these still here?”
The answer wasn’t in my eyes. I had nothing.
Perry and Maximus were equally silent, trying to make sense of it. Ada leaned over Michael’s cup and peered in.
“Oh, gross!” she cried out, stumbling backward into her mom who held her up. Her hand went to mouth, looking like she was going to vomit.
Curious, I walked over and looked for myself. It was filled to the brim with wriggling black insects. I stared at them for a moment, trying to figure out why it was familiar.