Finally, Our Year - Eddie Munson x OC

9 iii The Piggyback

My drive to the house was quiet. Not because there was no noise. But because my mind had already exhausted itself of thinking about all of the loss, that I literally couldn't anymore.

The house wasn't far from Nancy's. Maybe a 5 minute drive. But despite that, I was still seeing so many people ditching town because of what's going on. And I will never blame them for that.

I pulled in the driveway and a wave of emotion washed over me. This was the first time I've ever pulled in to this house with no fear. Tears started to warm my eyes as I approached the door.

I pulled out the spare key that my dad had given me the day I went to Nancy's for good, and shoved it in the door. It creaked open slowly, and I saw the inside. Empty, dark, and disheveled.

As I walked through, I picked up the items that fell off of shelves and walls during the earth quake. Most of my moms china and wine glasses were shattered across the floor. Those that weren't, I stacked on the counter to be donated.

I searched under the sink through the scattered and thrown around cleaning supplies to pull out garbage bags and start getting rid of the broken things.

As I walked through, picking up shards of picture frames and broken trinkets, I came across picture that I had forgotten all about. It hung in my fathers office. It was Chrissy and I when we were just 7 years old, hanging on my dads arms that he held out like monkey bars. On the back it read "always and forever, my little girls. 1975."

Tears threatened to fall again as a stared at it. My mom never hung sentimental pictures in the house. Everything had to be pristine. All photos on the walls were taken in studios by professionals. None of them held memories outside of hairspray, makeup, and attitudes over matching outfits. This one held many memories though. So I tucked it away in my pocket for safe keeping.

As I kept going, shoving the damaged away, I heard a knock at the door. "It's open!" I shouted out, and I heard them walk in.

"Hey Nick." I heard a familiar voice.

I looked over my shoulder at him. "Oh. Hey Steve." I replied.

"I... um, I have something for you." He said. "I figured you might want it." He held out Eddie's vest to me. "I washed it. I know the whole keeping his smell on it thing wouldn't be possible if I did, but he was in a lake twice and running through the woods in it. So I didn't exactly think that was a smell you would want to remember."

I took the vest from him. "Thanks Steve." I said, with a sad smile. He pulled me in for a hug and rubbed my back while I laid my head against him. Taking in the comfort.

After Steve left, I continued cleaning up. Once I finished getting the trash out, I dug old boxes out of the attic and started preparing things to be donated. I took one box through my mom's closet and nearly everything that was in it went to a donation box.

Then, I went on to Chrissy's closet. Some things I donated, others I put in a bag to keep myself. Things like clothes I liked, shoes that fit, things that reminded me of her, pictures, a stuffed animal that we had matching versions of, and old photos of her and us together.

Last was my dad's closet. I donated most nice clothes. Nearly all of his shoes and pants, belts, and socks. But I set aside a few t-shirts, hats, jackets, and his old glasses aside to keep. I also kept his pipe. Not that I would smoke it. But the smell of cherry vanilla tobacco would always bring back memories of him.

As I was finishing up going through his dresser, I opened the last drawer, only to find that it wasn't full of clothes. It had a box in it that said "Nicky Cunningham." across the top.