Infinite

Everything that hasn’t been damaged by the fire is either covered in soot, water-damaged, or both. Liam Grayson’s dad accompanies me, Linda and Thea as we slowly make our way through the debris. Almost the entire downstairs area is burned out, and even though I recognize the outline of the rooms, it’s hard to believe I spent my entire childhood here. My mom inherited this house from her parents. There’s so much history here, even though I mostly don’t want to think about any of it.

Everything smells like smoke, even though the fire has been out for days. Elliott and Jamie’s room on the same floor as the kitchen is hardly recognizable either, and looking at it, it hits me again how incredibly lucky they were to get out at all. The blackened remains of Elliott’s bed make me want to look away.

The stairs are pretty much intact, and even though I know that going up there means being so close to where my mother and Rick died, it’s like I have to. The smell of smoke is still strong up here, but the fire has barely touched this part of the house. The walls have a grey tinge from the smoke, and the railing on the landing is covered in a thin layer of soot. Careful not to touch anything, I swallow hard as I walk into mom and Rick’s bedroom.

At first, I don’t think there’s anything here worth saving. I don’t know the people who lived here, not really – there’s nothing, no sense of lost safety or longing for what I used to have. The dresser is filled with clothes I don’t recognize, and even though I faintly remember loving the way my mom smelled when I was little, everything smells the same now.

She wasn’t just my mom, though. And even though I may have mostly hated her, she was Elliott and Jamie’s mom too. I don’t want them to remember her just from me. So I grab the photo albums from the bookcase. Mom wasn’t much for keeping memories; most of the stuff from my childhood is contained within these pages. I take down the baby pictures of Elliott and Jamie from the bedroom wall, realizing that the other ones were downstairs. There’s no way they weren’t destroyed in the fire.

I hesitate for a moment before opening the door to what used to be my room.

Where I used to have band posters and photos taped to the wall, there’s nothing. A stationary bike stands in the corner where my bed used to be. My desk is there, but it’s empty. For a minute, I’m convinced that she threw all my stuff out.

That’s when I see the cardboard box in one of the corners. There are no markings on it to tell me what’s inside, but when I open the lid, I realize that all my stuff is there. My posters, my CDs, my old stuffed animals. She kept all of it.

I put the photo albums and the framed pictures on top of the box before I carry it downstairs.

-

I wake up early the day of the funeral. Karl is still in bed, snoring softly, and I guess that’s what woke me up. The room is hot and stuffy, and I’ve tangled my legs with the sheets. After untangling myself, I reach for my phone on the nightstand. It’s only half past seven, but since the funeral is at ten I should be getting up soon anyway.

I’ve been trying to come up with how I’m supposed to feel the entire week, but even as I’m lying here, I don’t have the slightest idea. I’ve cried, and I’ve gone through mom’s belongings, and I’ve managed to sort out paperwork with Thea, but I still don’t feel any of the stuff you’re supposed to feel when you mother dies. People keep telling me that they’re sorry for my loss, but I’m not even sure that I’m sorry myself.

Of course I loved my mother. At least a part of me did – the part that still remembers all the good stuff, like having pizza at Christmas, or the way she stayed up waiting for me some nights even though she had two small children to take care of. I remember when it was still just the two of us, and how she used to drive me each morning when I was still in elementary school.

But all the good stuff has mixed with the bad, and I can’t make sense of it. I remember all the times she forgot to pick me up from school, and how she always started to cry and yelled at me if I dared to ask anything about my dad. I remember how the house was filled with photos of Elliott and Jamie, but how there wasn’t a single photo of me on display after Rick moved in.

In a way, it was as if I was already gone when I moved out.

We’ve switched hotels to be closer to Linda, Thea, and the kids. I wonder if any of them are up for breakfast yet. Yesterday was the first day since we came here that Jamie actually wanted me to read her bedtime story, and I did my best to keep a straight face during Who Will Comfort Toffle? even though my heart was about to burst. Linda and Thea are taking the kids back with them to Oregon tomorrow, and I’m not sure how I feel about that either. One one hand, I’m still so incredibly relieved that Linda and Thea will take care of them – two responsible adults with financial stability, a loving home, and who want nothing more than to give Elliott and Jamie a stable upbringing. On the other, I don’t think I would be able to live with myself if Jamie ever gives me that look she gave me at the hospital again. Mom said you’d left us.

"These things take time", Linda told me a few days ago. "She’ll be okay. Kids need time to grieve just as adults do."

I gave Linda the photo albums. I don’t need them, and if I ever do, they’ll be safe in their house in Oregon.

Karl is still asleep when I get up to take a shower. The water is almost cold when I step into it, but the air conditioning hasn’t kicked in yet and I feel like I need to wake up. When I step back into the room wrapped in a towel, Karl is still snoring and Gerard has texted me, wondering if I’m up.

Yup. Strange day.

Anything I can do?

Can I call you?

I put on my sweats and a t-shirt before going out to sit in the hallway to call him. My jumbled thoughts need something to distract them, and hearing Gerard’s voice does just that.

"Hey."

"Hey", I say, and find myself smiling.

We’ve talked on the phone every day for the last four days. I’ve almost gotten used to talking to him again. It kind of scares me. And it also makes me want to call him every day.

I tell him about my ambiguous feelings concerning Jamie and Elliott going to Oregon.

"So are you thinking of moving over there?" Gerard asks. I bite my lip. I haven’t told him yet. I haven’t told anyone since Karl and I talked about it.

"Yeah, I am."

"That’d be good though, wouldn’t it? You love those kids", Gerard says, and I can’t detect anything in his voice except support. I’m not sure if I should be happy or disappointed. "Your band’s in on it, right?"

"I think so."

"So it’s practically decided then."

He makes it sound so simple. It’s almost like I don’t have my entire life in New York and that I have to feel responsible for my closest friends having to move across the country.

"Hey, I was thinking that maybe we could come to Philly tonight," I say, trying to change the subject. I don’t want to talk about moving to Oregon. I don’t want to talk about moving further away from him. "I know we’re not supposed to support until Friday, but I just want Jamie to see you guys perform. Just to take her mind off things for a while."

"Yeah, of course you should come. I want to see her too."

We make our plans for tonight as the wetness of my hair turns the back of my t-shirt damp.

"I miss you", I hear myself say when we’re about to hang up. "Especially today."

"You know I would have come if…"

"Yeah, I know I told you I didn’t need you to. I need to do this alone, y’know? But I still miss you."

"Yeah. I miss you too."

My heart is still soaring and plummeting at the same time when we do hang up, and I go back into the hotel room where Karl is brushing his teeth.