The Summer House

The trunk slammed shut and I eyed the wooden house in front of me warily. Though it was a grand three stories high, it looked weathered enough to tip over. What I remembered to be a rich red house from my childhood had turned into a pale brown stack of splinters garnished with weeds. No wonder my parents stopped using the damn thing.

I couldn't help but feel like my latest brilliant decision would turn out to be another monstrously awful failure.

I scratched the back of my head in disappointment before picking up my equally worn out, brown luggage bags with a sigh. The only plus that I could think of coming from this excursion was that the change of scenery could be just the thing to jump-start my lackluster career. Though, after sales on my last novel - which I thought would be a definite crowd pleaser – it looks like lackluster is the best I could hope for now.
-x-

It took only an hour for me to settle into my parents' lake house, and after that hour I was about ready to pack up and go back to my apartment in Los Angeles. Two freakishly large, hairy spiders, my foot going through four floorboards, and a stray raccoon later, and I had dropped enough F bombs to recite Hail Mary's all the way to my deathbed.

“Are you kidding me?!” I shouted as my foot went through another floorboard, causing me to fall face-first onto the dusty floor. I felt the wood give way and scrape against the skin of my ankle. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

I pulled my foot out of the fifth hole in the ground and slammed my fists on the floor beside me, throwing dust into the air. My cellphone started to vibrate in my back pocket and I furiously pulled it out, tempted to whip it at the wall.

“Hello?”

“Madeline!” It was my mother’s chirpy voice. “How’s the lake house?”

I despise you for letting me move in here. “Super,” I answered dryly, getting up and dusting myself off. My feet moved to the French doors that lead to the backyard and dock. “It’s really…super. I don’t know why you didn’t let me move here sooner.”

“You know, I think I left a meatloaf in the fridge the last time we were there,” she said thoughtfully, and I cringed at the thought of having to deal with that later. “If you get hungry –“

“Mom, the last time we were here was when I was fifteen. If I get hungry, I’ll eat the furniture before I eat the meatloaf.” She started saying something but I cut her off. “Look, I have some cleaning up to do here. Can I call you back?”

“Sure, I was just wondering if you got there okay, honey.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll call you later.”

“Bye, sweetie, I love you!”

“Love you too,” I mumbled, ending the call and pushing my cellphone back into my pocket. I surveyed the room and stifled a yelp when my eyes landed on the floor five feet away from me. After the initial shock, I pushed open the French doors and inched back towards the living room.

"Uh, sir?" I uttered uncertainly, eying the raccoon that was leisurely making its way across the living room floor. I watched it make tiny paw prints in the dust for a moment before gently shooing it outside, squinting momentarily out at the shimmering lake before turning my attention back to the little intruder at my feet. "I think you should go outside," I suggested conversationally. "You know, where you belong. Pretty sure it’s better than this dump."

It flicked it's tail at me before hobbling out towards the bushes lining the yard. I stepped out onto the middle of the patio and closed my eyes, taking in the sun as its warm rays rained down upon my face and shoulders.

A faint crash in the distance shook me from my reverie and I peered across the lake to the only other house for miles. It wasn't unlike the one I was occupying, in fact the only difference being that it was on the other side of the lake and the lawn was tamer than mine.

I stared as I watched a boy drag three overstuffed bags out to a several garbage cans at the side of the house, his lanky frame struggling with trying to keep the garbage bags at arms length while carrying the weight. He swore faintly as he knocked over one of the cans and dropped one of the bags, some of it’s contents spilling onto the ground. From what I could make out, they looked like diapers.

He tugged angrily at his messy brown locks before putting his hands on his hips and looking around the lake, a frown on his lips. He sighed and turned back to the mess, grimacing.

I giggled out of immaturity.

What I forgot was that the quietest sounds traveled across the lake, so I didn’t know what to do when his head suddenly snapped to my direction. I lowered my hand from above my eyes and waved uncertainly, offering an uneasy smile.

He merely stared back before turning around and trudging back into the house, slamming the door shut behind him.

Nice to meet you, too.