Joaquim Mohsen

Jason’s antique, rusty truck bounced along the dirt road. He glanced up at the sky; the gray clouds felt like an omen of doom over his endeavor. Shaking off such silly superstition, he rounded a corner. About a quarter of the mile down stood a two story house. Thick green vines had overtaken half of the house, climbing over the faded white painted walls of both stories and wrapping around the red brick chimney. The old house, with its wildly overgrown garden, stood silent, secluded from society. Just how she preferred it, Jason thought. It was weathered yet charming. There was an appeal to it: overgrown ivy creeping up brick walls, unkempt flower gardens. It spoke of being forgotten yet still beautiful. Much like his Tess.

Years had passed since he last saw her. Their last encounter ended with a hairdryer launched at his head. He still bore the scar, a faint reminder to duck next time he saw one coming his way. Hopefully that wouldn’t be an issue this time. But it didn’t take much to get Tess riled up. Not all relationships were meant to last forever, but he hoped this one could still be salvaged. He drove his truck closer to her home. Coming to a stop, he put it in park. Taking a deep breath, he climbed out of his truck, shutting the door behind him.

The afternoon spring air still held a slight chill. Jason shivered a bit and zipped up his brown leather jacket. He stood next to the truck a moment and focused on the tarnished pale blue front door of the house. Four hours. He had driven four hours to see her. She hadn’t wanted him to know where she lived, but her mother finally broke down and told Jason once he revealed why he needed to see her. Doubts that had plagued him on the drive crept back up, compounding one on top of another. Why the hell was he even here? She doesn’t want to see you and hasn’t for ten years. His inner thoughts battled and raged on. He was on the brink of turning around when a single voice resonated louder than the rest: You need her. He closed his eyes to silence the whispers of his mind and steady himself. He needed her. Inhaling deeply, then exhaling, he opened his eyes, and wandered towards the front door.

A wooden porch stood in the front of the house, framed by white columns that spiraled upwards supporting a sloping charcoal roof. Like the rest of the exterior of the home, it too was worn, seasoned by the years. Each of the wooden planks had cracks that went one way or the other. A few were warped. He climbed the small set of stairs to get to the door. Pausing outside of it, he eased his nerves one more time, filling his diaphragm with air and then breathing out. He lifted his fist, and knocked.

A few moments passed. Maybe she isn’t home, he figured. Come to think of it, he didn’t recall seeing a car anywhere. Jason let out a sigh, but decided to give it a minute more. He awkwardly turned and surveyed the porch.

On his left was a small swing suspended from the ceiling by rustic chains. It swayed gently as a brisk breeze passed through. On his right was a small table with wrought iron chairs on either side. Remnants of orange slices and a banana peel littered a pale pink plate. Her breakfast, Jason deduced. He chuckled to himself. She probably forgot to clean up…or neglected to. She was always a bit on the messy side. Years ago, he found it an annoyance, but now…now looking at the remains, he realized he would put up with any amount of mess if it meant she loved him again.

A minute passed, and he debated knocking one more time. Knock. Knock. Knock…Still no answer. Defeated, he turned and resolved to try again later. He’d go into town and get something to eat, returning at dusk. He hadn’t driven four hours not to at least see her once. As he walked back down the gravel path that led from the stairs to his truck, he glanced back one more time. He noticed something he hadn’t before. A side door was cracked halfway open. Odd, he thought. His heart rate spiked a bit. A little bit of worry began to sit in. Why was the side door open? Changing course, he briskly sauntered towards it to investigate.

He knew his Tess was a little messy and unorganized, but was also very particular about closing and locking doors. He remembered how they fought one time when, after a night of drinking, he forgot to lock the front door when returning home. She nearly threw a hairdryer at him that night. As he got closer, he didn’t note anything out of place. The door was a little beat down but no signs of forced entry, at least from what he could tell. He was no detective.

It’s nothing, he thought. I am overthinking. People do this kind of stuff all the time. Besides, she lives practically in the middle of nowhere, who would come out all this way…He couldn’t shake that bit of anxiety though. Reasoning with himself about what he should do, he decided to enter the house. Just to check. Worst case scenario, if he was wrong, he could at least be assured that she was safe and sound.

“Tess, you in here?” Jason called softly as he stepped through the door’s threshold. “Tess, it’s me,” he called again a bit louder. The house responded with absolute silence, unnerving him. The side door led into a small mudroom. Jason’s eyes searched for anything unusual. He didn’t linger long, quickly sweeping to make sure there were no clues. It was a pretty typical mudroom: a washer and dryer, a pair of mucking boots caked with a nice layer of mud and a few jackets hanging on hooks. He made his way through to the next room.

He entered a pretty standard kitchen. Just like the mudroom, nothing stood out to Jason. A few dishes piled up the sink. Some crumbs on the counter tops. He walked around, his eyes sweeping back and forth. He noticed a couple of things stuck to the refrigerator held by alphabet magnets: A brochure for a local pizza shop, a note with a reminder for a doctor’s appointment that was scheduled for a year ago, and a picture of a child.

Jason studied the picture. A cute kid. Jason guessed he was about eight years old. The kid had brown hair and a cherub face. A tooth was missing from his smile, only adding to his cuteness. He looked like Tess. Was it her son? She always wanted kids. All those times she’d sit in his lap and go on and on about wanting to be a mom. He guessed she got her wish. His heart dropped, he’d always hoped he would get to be a part of it. Did that mean she was with someone? Had she gotten married? His heart sank more. Not seeing a need to linger any longer in the kitchen, he headed to the rest of the house.

It didn’t take Jason long to check the first floor. He examined each room, seeing no sign of struggle or evidence of any mischief. He did find other pictures, a lot of the kid. The one in the kitchen must have been the most recent, because he looked younger in that one than the ones he found scattered around the rest of the first floor. He also found some of her and the kid. She looked the same, older, but still striking. Her chestnut colored hair cascaded down her back, and she still had her mischievous smile that even through a picture, still melted Jason’s heart. He didn’t find any indication of the father, or of any husband or boyfriend. From his perspective, everything was “normal”. At least to him. This was his first time being here, so he didn’t know what “normal” looked like. Feeling a bit of relief, he still would not be completely settled unless he checked the upstairs as well.

In the middle of the house were a set of wooden stairs that led to the second story. Jason ascended them and upon reaching the top he was faced with four doors, two to the left, and two the right. Not thinking it mattered, he started his search with the ones on the right. He opened the first one, closest to the stairs. A single bed with a nightstand and dresser was all there was. Probably just a guest room, he figured. He closed the door and proceeded to the other room.

As soon as he opened the door, he knew it was her room. Hints of lavender danced under his nose. After all these years, she still wore the same perfume. Jason took a moment, and inhaled the scent. Oh how he had missed that. It brought him back to all those nights she spent getting ready to go out. She never left the house without a couple of spritzes. The scent brought a small smile to his face.

Not to his surprise, the bed wasn’t made. The white comforter was lazily thrown to one side. Dirty clothes were strewn all over the floor. Next to the bed were two night stands, but Jason could tell only one was regularly used. His spirits raised. The one on the left side had a classic alarm clock, small lamp, and a paperback novel titled, “Wild in Love.” The cover had a half naked man holding a striking woman. He didn’t bother seeing what the book was about, better he not know, he reasoned. A cell phone charging cable dangled off the side. The nightstand on the right side had nothing but a small lamp. No signs of anyone else but Tess sleeping in here. Jason let out a sigh of relief.

He was about to leave the room when something on the dresser caught his eye. Another framed photograph. But this time, he saw his own face looking back at him, a much younger one, but his nonetheless. And not just his, but hers as well. Surprised, he picked it up and gazed at it. He remembered when they took this photo. It was thirteen years ago on a trip they took to the Grand Canyon with her mother. Tess begged him to take it with her. “Come on, you never want to take pictures!” Jason threw a hissy fit, but her persistent pleading eventually wore him down, and he begrudgingly agreed. Both of the girls tried to coax him to smile, but all he managed was a small grimace that made it clear he was not enthused. “Fucking idiot,” he breathed under his breath. He sat down on the bed with the photo. Drops of tears splashed down onto the photo, blurring the memories beneath the glass.

Why? Why had he been so stubborn? She was everything to him. Night after night, she had pleaded with him, her eyes searching for the connection they once shared. But he couldn’t give it to her—or rather, he wouldn’t. Was it the alcohol or his self-hatred? Years ago, when she met his gaze with those pleading eyes, he had turned away. That was when she left, unable to bear the pain he inflicted. Now, as he broke down, the truth hit him: he needed her back. With only months left to live, he couldn’t bear the thought of dying with her hatred as his final memory.

…

Tess felt every bump on the road in her old sedan. She glanced up at the sky; the gray clouds carried a sense of foreboding. She laughed to herself, stop being so superstitious girl.

“Mommy, what’s so funny?” came a voice from the backseat. She looked in her rear view mirror. He was so handsome. He looked just like her father.

“Nothing sweetie.”

As she rounded the corner to the house, she noticed something peculiar.

…

The sound of a vehicle bouncing down the gravel road snapped him out of it. Jumping up, he brushed his tears away with his hand as he rushed to the window that was conveniently facing the road. Shit, shit, shit, he thought. An old sedan, dusty from traversing the road numerous times, was coming towards the house. Jason squinted his eyes and saw a woman in the driver’s seat. It had to be her. He dropped the photograph, causing it to crack, and darted out of the room.

…

Who’s at the house? Tess asked herself. As she pulled in closer, her brow furrowed. She knew that truck. As she passed by it, she looked into the window. There was no one in it. Carefully, she parked her car.

“Stay in the car sweetie,” she told the boy in the back seat.

“Yes mommy.”

…

All he could think of was getting out of there unseen. If he could slip out the side, she might just miss him. As he rushed down the stairs, it struck him: His truck! There was no way she would miss it. She would know it from a mile away. It was the same truck he had driven for twenty years. Jason’s heart, already elevated, began to spike even more. One problem at a time, he told himself, better to be caught outside the house than in it.

In all his panic though, his brain stopped functioning, and instead of heading for the side door, he went straight for the first door he came across: the front door.

…

A man burst through her front door all frantic.

“Dad!?” Tess exclaimed. Jason froze like a deer in the headlights. Tess stood by her car, just as shocked as he was. Father and daughter stood staring at one another.

The sound of a car door closing snapped them both to reality. The boy from the pictures emerged from the sedan.

“Mommy, who’s he?” As he spoke, a bit of sunlight crept through the gray clouds.