Traveling Backwards

My house looked just like anyone else’s. It was a townhouse, but we were lucky enough to own one on the end. I looked up at the familiar black door that waited at the top of a few concrete steps. I remember the many times I fell down those steps when I was younger and more awkward. It would take me a few seconds to register that I was in pain, but when I did, I let out a terrifying shriek. My mother would quickly rush to my side and scoop me up in her arms. She’d bring me inside, sit me down on the couch, and come tend to my wound, no matter how small.
I was never told exactly what had happened to my parents. All I knew was that they had died. And I was left in custody of my uncle, who apparently was a headmaster of a boarding school in hell? But now he’s dead too. I guess I’m in charge of myself now.
“Aren’t we going in?” Ryder asked, lightly pushing me towards the steps.
“Ryder, my parents are dead. They probably sold the house to another family. And I can guarantee you it’s locked,” I explained, totally blanking on why I thought we should’ve come here in the first place. What were we going to do with a house we can’t get into? And even if we could get in, how would it help us?
“Well, the house looks dark… You have a bobby pin?” Ryder questioned as he trotted up the steps and examined the lock on the front door.
“We’re not going to break in!” I exclaimed, running after him and tugging on his shirt.
“It’s your house, Jaydee. It’s not really breaking in. And I don’t even think anyone is home. And I think if you can see your house again, it might give you a little closure,” he lightly kicked a pebble with his shoe, “Maybe the fog will clear and we can all figure this out together.”
That was the most serious thing Ryder had ever said. I let go of my grip on his shirt and pulled a bobby pin from the messy up-do I was sporting. Ryder took it and started fiddling with the deadbolt. I glanced back at Lurk who was watching a window on the second floor. Then I remembered that he can hear people’s thoughts.
“Lurk?” I whispered loudly. His focus broke and he looked at me with a pale face.
“There’s someone in the house, Jaydee. And they can hear Ryder with the lock. They’re coming downstairs.”
Before I could even turn to pull Ryder away, a teenage girl with flaming red hair opened the front door. She didn’t seem afraid. She just leaned against the doorframe and folded her arms.
“Can I help you?” she asked, her eyes scanning us up and down. I knew if any of the guys spoke, they’d come up with a stupid excuse and make things worse. So I pushed a terrified Ryder out of the way and looked the girl in the eye.
“I’m Jaydee Alino. I used to live here before my parents died and I had to move. I just really wanted to see my old house, and we didn’t think anyone was home. I apologize, and we’ll be on our way.” I took Ryder’s wrist and started down the steps.
“Wait!” the girl cried, “You can come in.” I smiled and thanked her as I walked into the foyer. Lurk followed me and so did Ryder after he stuck the bobby pin in the teenage girl’s hair. She shot me a puzzled look as she removed it and let it fall to the ground.
“That was his way of apologizing,” I shrugged. The girl nodded and closed the front door.
“So you lived here before me?” she asked as she toyed with one of her many bracelets.
“Yeah. My parents died about a year ago. I think. I haven’t really been keeping track of the time, exactly... I was living with my uncle who…nevermind.”
“You don’t have to explain. Feel free to walk around. Sorry about the mess.”
I took her up on her offer. It was a weird feeling being in the house again. In my mind it was still my house, but what I saw constantly negated that idea. The furniture wasn’t right. The smell wasn’t right. The paint on the walls wasn’t right. It didn’t feel like home to me anymore.
I could feel the threat of tears behind my eyes. I tried to keep them from falling. God, I was such a girl sometimes.
“Let’s go,” I said, quickly heading towards the front door.
“You didn’t want to see the upstairs?” the red-haired girl asked, walking after me.
“I…I guess I do…” I stuttered, hesitantly walking up the flight of stairs that I knew the exact rhythm of.
My room was to the left, my parents’ to the right. The bathroom was right across from the edge of the stairs. I glanced in. Everything looked the same as when I had lived here. The same pale green walls and off-white ceramic bathtub and toilet. The counter-tops were the only difference. The new family had replaced them with neutral granite that had specks of olive.
I stepped into my room next. It was the same color I had picked out when I was 13: a dark purple that gave the area a cave-like feel.
“I liked the color that was already in here. Was this your room?” asked the girl. I nodded, speechless and suddenly filled with nostalgia for my old life.
“I guess it’s sort of weird meeting the girl had this room before me. Oh, I’m Lilly by the way. Guess I forgot to introduce myself.”
I think I temporarily lost all social skills, because I let silence hang in the air awkwardly. I peered through the blinds of one of the two windows in the room. Yep, same view I had always known. I let one tear slowly roll down my cheek, but hurriedly wiped it away with my sleeve.
“Oh, I think I have something you might want!” exclaimed Lilly as she ran into my parents’ old room. She emerged with a tattered book.
“It was here when we moved in. The people who moved your furniture must have missed it. Does it look familiar?”
I took it from her and carefully opened the front cover. It didn’t have a title printed on the front. My father’s name was signed on the top right-hand corner of the first page.
“I think it was my dad’s,” I said, “is it okay if I keep it?”
“All yours,” she smiled, “and I hate to rush you but my parents are probably going to be home soon. And I’m not sure I want to explain why I let three strangers in.”
I thanked her for letting us in and walked down the concrete steps for the last time. Ryder was right, I did need closure. When my parents died, things changed so fast I didn’t get time to mourn them.
I looked down at my father’s book: History of Vampires: Volume I.