Debbie Pierre

 

    Casey shook her long braids in disgust as her eyes trailed the green paint hugging the house’s outer-layer. It used to be pearl white with scarlet red accents around the window panes. Used to be. At a time when her only worries were whether or not she’d save her PSP data before charging into a boss battle. She hasn’t seen her childhood home since...childhood. Before she could blow out her 10th birthday candle, her father traded their two-story house in pin drop serenity for an apartment complex overseeing Go-Go lap dances and corner store register CHINGS.

 

    She has long since gotten over that slump in her life. She’s a big girl now-- well woman-- an adult. She can almost taste the legality of her first beer in a couple of months from now. She’s over it-- over this house-- almost over with college. Honestly, green is a good color, it brings out the house’s eyes-- windows. So why is she here? It’s a two for two because it’s her father’s fault really.

 

    A week ago, during manic keyboard tapping and 5-Hour Energy downings, her father’s name flashed on her caller-ID. She thought about ignoring it because her father usually goes on a tangent, gossiping about everyone’s business and she needed to finish her argumentative paper on climate change and its effect on penguins. But she knew her father would just keep on calling. So they went through their weekly overview on the family, Solomon’s failing attempts in securing shares in the stock market, and John’s latest girlfriend. Tiffany, she thinks. And out of nowhere her father says, 

“You remember our landlord, George.” How could I forget? A tall, bald guy who’d always worn those big black boots. 

“Yeah, why?” 

“He called me up yesterday, said he sold the house to some white couple. They gonna tear it down and turn it into an apartment complex.” What!? An apartment complex. Why? “I’m telling you this because I remember how much you wanted to go back.” 

“Oh that. I’m over it.” She could feel her father rolling his eyes.

“You sure? George said the locks haven’t changed since we left and I still have a key. He said we’re welcome to stop by before the 14th. That’s when they gonna tear it down.”

“They gonna… the 14th? That’s so soon…”

    In hindsight, she should have just said no. Before going over to the house, she first visits her father’s apartment. He handed over a silver rusty key and a familiar block heavy brown book. 

“What’s this?” Casey stared at its discolored and scratch up cover.

“You can read.”

“I didn’t ask for the photo album.”

“Good, because I didn’t tell you about it. I need you to photocopy all of the pictures for me.”

“That’s not fair dad. That’ll take forever and--”
“Always dramatic just like…” He shakes his head, a quick ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ sorrow ran past his features. “Anyways just take it to Walmart’s and they’ll do the rest--here.” Her father handed her a hundred-dollar bill. She’s pretty sure that doesn’t cost as much but who was she to deny extra pocket change.

“Are those pictures still in there?” Casey glared at the album like it licked her ice cream.

“No.” 

“Okay. I’ll just go right now.”

“Casey, wait.” Casey turned around to face her father again and for the first time since...since the passing, she sees him, the real him. She saw wrinkles tuck beneath his eyelids and the grayness of his eyebrow. Sorry, his face said. “Walmart’s usually closed for holidays.” Fuck.

 

-----

    It was dumb. She should have just left the album in her dorm room. But it took about two hours by bus to get to her father’s place, in the first place. So going back to the dorms was a waste of bus fare and patience. So she toughs it out. Heavy-ass photo album carried in both hands and backpack slinged over her left shoulder. I should have just left it on the bus. But she knew her father wouldn’t accept her losing it. God, this day is just emotionally draining! I just wanna sleep now. After a final glance over, Casey made her way up the concrete steps. Then key to the knob, knob to left twist, left twist to shoulder bump. 

 

Finally, inside, she let the album SMACK against the hardwood floor, guiding a sea of dust in her personal space. Coughing and sneezing, Casey reaches into her bag and grabs a water bottle. Sipping halfway, she sets the bottle next to the album and sat down with her back pressed against the chipped wall. I should have brought a mask. She drank in her surroundings. The living room was the closest room to the entrance. Barren of any furniture, the only constant feature was the chipped white walls and three windows scattered on the left side of the room. She can hear the CREAKS in the wooden floorboard every time she moves slightly. I guess they removed the carpets after we left.  

 

Getting up, Casey’s knee mistakenly hit the water bottle-- spilling water all over the floor. Shit! Putting the bottle upright, she scanned the mess. No! She noticed the photo album was caught in the crossfire as the water was seeping underneath the back cover. Casey quickly picked up the album and felt the back. What the hell? It didn’t feel wet...but she could have sworn the water touched it. Opening the book, she flipped to the last page. No water? I guess I got it before anything could happen. Lucky me. Mid-closing the book, her eyes finally took notice of the page. There was one picture occupying it, that of her and her oldest brother Solomon, standing side by side, staring straight at, what she guesses, is the camera. I don’t even remember taking this. Casey snatched the photo from out of its plastic cocoon. When was this taken? Her hand flicks the lightswitch but nothing happened. Then she remembered her father saying that George said that the house had no electricity. Figures. 

 

She went to the center window. Maybe the sun can offer up a clearer picture. With said light, she only guesses she was about seven when this picture was taken judging by her style of clothing at the time-- her father’s white t-shirts. On her, they look like dresses since they touch her ankles. Solomon, 10 years old, she thinks, was wearing a black and red flannel pajama set. He looks like a goober. Casey then spots something else in the picture that looks familiar. Isn’t this the same window? Casey backs away a little and holds the photo up to the window. It is! Minus the missing light brown curtain, this is the same spot the photo was taken. She then perfectly overlaps the photo with the window like those Harry Potter fans would sometimes do when they visit the film locations.

Suddenly, the dust within the room swirled around her, creating a big SWOOSHING sound. Covering her face, Casey sank to her knees. Am I dying?! Suddenly, the dust vibrations stopped. Casey’s eyes met a reddish-brown color. This is our carpet! Casey waved her hand across the furry, soft surface. What? Looking up, Casey did a double-take around the room. The once dusty, dead living room was met with furniture… but not just any. Standing up, Casey’s fingers ran all over the place. Our wooden coffee table, the gray couches, the DVD counter, even the block TV resting on the floor. Everything was as it was back in 2009. Fuck? Casey touched the light brown window curtain. It even has that same silk feeling. I must be dead. 

“Take the picture here, mommy!” A little black girl ran towards the center window. Where did she come from? Wait, hold on… Casey recognized that oversized ShopRite Can-Can shirt from anywhere.

“You’re...me?” Casey blurts out but the girl paid her no mind and just continued to look out the open window.

“I don’t wanna take a picture with her,” A cracking voice says, and Casey suddenly sees a black boy sitting on the family-size couch. His lip was pouty and arms crossed in anger. Solomon used to do that whenever I flipped the checkers’ board. 

“What you did wasn’t nice, Casey,” Another voice says, this one was different. It oozed in motherly love and disappointment. Casey felt every nerve in her body as she slowly looks over to the voice. Afro hair to dark skin to short stature. Mom?!

“It was an accident!” The little girl says.

“Accident my butt! You’re just a sore loser.” The boy stood on the couch to seem bigger.

“But I didn’t lose!”

“You were gonna, that’s why you flipped the board.”

“Gonna, woulda, shoulda, but I didn’t! Just get over it.”

“Casey…” The woman says while looking at the girl.

“It was an accident, mommy.”

“Casey…” She repeats.

“Okay, maybe I didn’t wanna lose again. But it was only because Solomon would do his dumb victory dance and call me dumb.”

“That’s not true, she’s lying!” 

“Solomon…” The woman, now looking at the boy.

“Maybe some of it was true.”

“Solomon…”

“Okayokayokayokay, all of it.”

“What do you both say?”

“I’m sorry.” The girl and boy dryly say to one another without giving as much as a glance in either’s direction.

“Good, now let’s get this picture. Get closer you two.” The woman holds up her yellow and black Kodak camera.

“Mommy, I don’t wanna stand next to him. He hasn’t showered yet.”

“Well, at least I brush my teeth.”

“I did too brush my teeth.”

“If you both give me your best smile, we’ll go to the park.” The woman sigh, she finally clicked the black button. “Perfect. Now go shower, Solomon. I can smell your armpits from here.”

“Ha!” The girl sticks her tongue out.

“And go brush your teeth, Casey. I can smell your breath from here.”
   “Ha!” The boy now sticks his tongue out, too.

“Bet I’d finish brushing before you shower!”

“In your dreams!” The boy says as Casey watched the two kids disappear into dust. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” Casey nearly forgot about her mother, as she turned in the direction of said woman’s voice. Casey jumped out of her skin upon seeing her mother giving her direct eye contact.

“I...You...Mom?”

“It’s not about the house, Casey,” Her mom said, her eyes hadn’t felt the touch of wrinkles yet. “You need to be honest with yourself, honey.” Then her mom walks away from her-- she too disappeared into dust.

“Mom, wait!” And suddenly, Casey was engulfed in darkness.

 

-----

Opening her eyes, Casey realized she was sitting against the wall of the same, empty house. “Mom!” Casey’s hand still reaching out, but no one claimed it. I need that picture! But before she reached over to the photo album, Casey noticed her water bottle was half full and the floor had no wet spills. Nonononononono! Casey harshly flipped through the album, yet the last page had no pictures. There weren’t enough photos to fill the whole thing. That couldn’t have been a dream. Could it? No way! It felt too real… Stunned, Casey held the book in both hands, but before she could chuck it across the room, one lone photo flew to the ground. It wasn’t the one with her and her brother. This one was different. It was of a woman smiling weakly while laying in a hospital bed. After letting the photo album slip out of her fingertips, Casey cried. She cried and cried and cried. Letting those 10 years of emotions stream down her face and SPLASH onto the floorboard. 

 

She could no longer lie to herself.