The House at the End of Magpie Drive (Aug 2020)

Part 3

When I awoke, my dresser and night table were assembled, and my patched bean bag was in the corner. Sunlight was streaming in the window, and an unfamiliar tabby cat lay on a warm patch on the rug. I rolled out of bed, feeling more rested than I ever had in my adult life, and walked to the cat. It faded out, like someone edited it out on a computer, and the patch of carpet was empty.

My clothing boxes were stacked in the closet with a post-it note stuck to one of them. In handsome penmanship the note read: "My name is Julia."

I got dressed and went downstairs. A bowl of hot cereal sat on the table. On the tabletop, written in pencil, were the words "I'll be back for dinner, your night."

I ate quickly, washed the dishes, and wiped the pencil off the table. Time was ticking and I had an uneasy feeling. Rummaging through my pockets, I produced a pencil and began to write on the table. "

You got it." Something in the air didn't feel right. Letters formed under my note, but there was no pencil moving.

"Stay out of the attic, Tomey."

"Okay!" I yelped, surprised at myself again for speaking out loud. The atmosphere seemed to smile in a mildly menacing manner. I sped out of the kitchen, through the living room, and straight to my van. I had shopping to do and I wasn't sure about my roommate.

When I returned, I set about cleaning the living room first. It needed dusting and steam cleaning. When I finished in the living room, I moved through the rest of the rooms in the house. For some reason, the doorknob of the guest bedroom was burning hot, so I didn't get around to cleaning it.

I didn't have the materials to repair the chandelier, and I assumed that the pieces in the attic had to stay there. I sketched some new crystal designs on my notepad. The original had a pattern of round glass beads in strings, and there were teardrop-shaped pendants. My idea was to keep the round glass beads, but to change the pendants. A pretty star and moon pattern would do nicely, and I knew someone who made beautiful glasswork. I went into the kitchen and wrote a question on the kitchen table for when Julia got back.

"Would you mind if I fixed up the chandelier? I have a friend who can make new pendants. Here's my design idea:" I neatly drew the chandelier and closeups of the pendants on the table.

That night, while the noodles were cooking, more writing appeared on the table.

"Yes, if you leave the pendants on the dining room table overnight before assembling the chandelier." I figured that was fair enough, and continued cooking.

When the pendants arrived the following Thursday, I left them on the table overnight as instructed. The next morning, all the pendants were dusty. I touched a star and the dust floated up. Dust doesn't normally float off of glass at one touch, but I was not allowed to question it. I carefully assembled the chandelier and rewired it, all of which took the better part of Saturday. It was beautiful when it was finished. Although the sun had already set, I sat right down and painted the chandelier. It felt silly to have a painting of the chandelier in my- our home, so I uploaded it to my social media to advertise. Maybe someone would want a painting of a chandelier. I ate the plate of food left on the dining room table, washed the dishes, and headed up to bed.

I didn't have much to do on a Sunday, so I took my paints out to the forest. When I returned for lunch, my phone buzzed. I checked it, hoping it was a friend. It was a message from my business page, from someone who wanted to buy my chandelier painting. No one had ever bought my paintings this fast. This painting didn't seem that remarkable to me, but I was glad that someone wanted to buy it. I messaged them back.

The following weekend, the person who was interested in my painting arrived at the house. His name was Reza, and he turned out to be an fascinating guy. In only one week, he had my number and we started talking. Reza loved ghosts, and that's why he loved my painting.

I was quite tired from the day's work of wiring tiny glass pieces to the frame while painting the chandelier, and I never looked at it after that night. Reza pointed out that I had painted a misty figure on the left. There were no discernible features, but he insisted that it was a ghost. I told him about the ghost in my house and what she was like. He teased me for liking her, which I don't. I don't like women, and even if I did, Julia is more of a maternal figure to me.

"Good morning!" I shouted from the front porch as Reza's small commuter car pulled into the drive. Reza was taller than I expected.

"Morning!" He called back. We went inside, and I gave him the painting. He had already sent me the money online because he was so eager about this one painting. Of course, I showed him the chandelier. I made tea in the kitchen and we sat and talked.

"Why did you not introduce me?" The handsome penmanship swirled onto the table. I jumped, not at all expecting Julia to write. Reza's eyes sparkled.

"Hello, Julia. I'm Reza." Reza wrote on the table. I forgot that I always left a pencil on the kitchen table these days. The air seemed to smile.

"Pleasure to meet you, Reza." Julia and Reza had a full conversation on the table, and I added a few notes here and there. Hours passed and the shadows of the trees started to shade the kitchen window as the sun set.

"Please come visit again, Reza." Julia wrote on the table.

"I'd love to." Reza replied.

"Who's taking Julia now?" I asked out loud. Reza was my guest, but I suppose he did want to talk to Julia in the first place. Writing immediately curled over the tabletop.

"Oh hell no, romantic and/or sexual relationships are gross, regardless of my lack of physical presence."

Reza and I exploded, our laugher filling every corner of the kitchen, making it feel more cozy. That's when I realised how much I missed having a roommate, or even just a friend nearby.

Reza did come back, once a month. It was a bit of a drive for him, but we looked forward to each visit. We had picnics and painted in the forest until it snowed, then we would spend the mornings sledding or cross-country skiing. Reza wasn't a great painter, but he loved to sketch leaves and moss. In the evenings, he wrote on the table with Julia while I cooked. I must admit that I felt a little jealous.

Finally, March rolled around and the forest thawed slightly. We planned to hike in the forest, maybe paint together. But this time was special because Reza was staying overnight. Yes, that sounds suspicious but it wasn't like that. I didn't know if he liked me. Besides, I was sleeping on the cot that night.