Seth
When I went back inside the club, I took a seat at the bar and observed everything. I spotted Amy with her two friends from earlier. They were in a deep conversation, and the one in the red dress was waving dramatically trying to get Amy to listen to her.
I wondered how I had gotten here. And why now? Why was I letting myself feel something for a girl who was just as complicated as me? I couldn’t avoid concealing my feelings anymore when my two newest songs were inspired by her—and she had heard them. I might not have to admit my feelings directly, but she knew. And now that she knew, there was no turning back.
A couple days before, I had gotten the nerve to go to Amy’s house and try to talk to John. It was mid afternoon, so I figured Amy would be lifeguarding or at the beach. When I knocked on the door, a tall, skinny woman answered. She had brown curly hair, light skin, and green eyes. She looked tired and had a cigarette in her hand. When I first saw her, I took in a sharp breath. Not only did she look a lot like Amy, despite her fair skin and eyes, but she also resembled someone else: my mom.
My mom had had the same frame and facial structure. Her eyes were piercing blue, but looking at Amy’s mom I could see my mom’s eyes in hers, even with the color difference. It was a bit creepy.
It took a couple of seconds for me to blink back into focus and ask her if John was home. She studied my face for a minute before replying. “No, he’s not here. He’s out of town for the week.”
“Oh,” I said, holding in my surprise. “When exactly is he coming back?”
“Two weeks from today, actually,” she said. “Is there—” she started to say, but I cut her off.
“Thank you. I’ll give him a call then.” I smiled, staring into her eyes. My gaze seemed to startle her a little, causing her to blink several times before saying, “Okay, you’re welcome.”
She smiled as she shut the door.
I let out a heavy sigh and walked away from the house. Tuesday.
Now at the club with Amy in my view, I realized something else. I had to tell her. I had to tell her about John, and about my mom. I couldn’t continue to keep things in.
Amy looked over at the bar and caught me staring at her. I smiled, and she looked away, smiling slightly. I felt a heaviness on my chest, the weight of all the things to come.
I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked over.
“Great job, man!” Will said to me, a big grin on his face. Then his smile faded. “You okay?”
I let out a sigh, realizing I probably had a strange look on my face. With the adrenaline and the thoughts racing in my mind, I shook my head. Will looked at me expectantly, and I reached into my pocket and took out the will and key wrapped in the napkin with the address on it.
He took them, confused, and I watched him as he read the contents and then quickly glanced at me. “Is this why you are here?”
“Yes.”
“You haven’t gone.” Even though the club was loud, it was a muffled noise compared to the pounding of my heart in my ears. Telling Will hadn’t been my plan, but I needed to tell someone. The weight was getting too heavy.
“I…I can’t.” I swallowed. I knew it was time I face this, and after so many weeks of knowing and avoiding, I realized I was afraid. I was afraid of what I would find and afraid that I might not be able to handle it.
“Seth,” Will said quietly, though his voice was loud and clear to me. “You have to. It’s the only way to move on. Come on—I’ll drive.”
He pushed the paper and key toward my chest, and I caught it before it fell to the ground. He walked past me before I could say anything. His words rang in my ear and I was unsure what he meant by them. Still, I followed him toward the entrance.
We stayed silent on the drive, and I gazed out the window. We drove through downtown on the main road, past the boardwalk and city sign. We turned left into a neighborhood and then right, and right again. We passed by house after house, the houses slowly getting farther apart. The road turned to gravel, and I wondered how in the world Will knew where he was going.
I felt the car slow down, and my stomach clenched. I could see a small house in the distance and somehow knew it was the one. Even though it was dark, the moonlight shed some light over it and I could make out a wide porch covered in vines, shuttered windows, and a small tower to one side.
“This is it.”
I nodded, staring at the still house. I gripped the key tighter in my hand.
Will turned off the ignition. “Take as long as you need.”
My feet felt heavy as I walked up the narrow path to the house. There was a slight breeze, and as I got closer I could hear wind chimes. It sent a chill through me, my body running cold, and I felt as though I were about to step into a horror film as my foot hit the creaky porch. I took a deep breath and fumbled for the keyhole; when my fingers found it, I pushed the key in and turned. The lock clicked and I pushed forward.
I kept the door open, and the light spilling from Will’s headlights kept me from standing in total darkness. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my phone, turning on the flashlight. I scanned the room quickly, noticing a couch, scattered tables, and a fireplace. I took a few steps forward as my eyes started to adjust to the darkness. When they did, all I saw were boxes. There were stacks and stacks of boxes, all organized and scribbled on. I flashed my phone to read label after label.
It was mom’s handwriting, messy and quickly written, as if she had been packing for a finish line. I wandered around the house, going into the dining room, the kitchen, and up a set of stairs. The house was dusty, but not as dusty as I had thought it might be. I wondered if my father had been coming here to keep it up.
The doors upstairs all were shut, and I opened them one by one before entering any of the rooms. There was a bathroom, two bedrooms, and a smaller room that resembled a study. I went into the smaller bedroom and instantly smelled my mom. It was a faint, sweet smell of freesia masked by the smell of musty wood. I looked around the room, realizing this must have been her childhood room.
I sat on the stripped mattress and stared ahead at the mirror on the wall. I could see my face in the glow of my phone’s light. Sitting there, I thought about what my mom might have been like as a child, as a teenager. I had only ever known her one way, and even then I wondered how much I had actually known. My reflection stared back at me, mockingly enhancing the almond green eyes and sharp cheekbones that I shared with my mom. It was as if she were speaking through those features: I will always live on through you.
I turned away from the mirror and focused on the chair in the corner. I imagined this was the chair that my grandma had sat in, singing my mom the lullaby she would go on to sing to me. It made my heart ache for her, and I longed to know the woman who had passed on something that meant everything to me. I closed my eyes, fighting my emotions.
As I felt myself giving in to the sadness I tried so hard to contain, I did the one thing that could calm me down but also tear me apart.
“Sleep now, my child. I’ll keep you safe
Close your eyes for the journey left to take.
And when you return, I’ll be right here.
May you dream so far that you can see
That the world you leave will set you free.
And when you return, I’ll be right here.
So sail the seas and feel the breeze,
To wash the worries that you fear.
And when you return, I’ll be right here.
Don’t waste your time, for it will leave.
The waves will rage and the wind will grieve.
But when you return I’ll be right here.
No matter how far you are from me,
It is only as far as you let it be.
So when you return I’ll be right here.
I’ll be right here, I’ll be right here.”
My voice cracked as I finished the last line, and I could feel tears running down my cheeks.
“I’m here, Mom,” I whispered. “I’m here.”