In Parched Gardens: Book 1

Chapter 12: Like a Ballerina

Sitting at the small table beside his refrigerator, Fin sipped a cup of coffee. He wasn't a big coffee drinker, but some mornings it just felt right. When he was up particularly early, early even for him, he sometimes woke feeling like he could faintly smell coffee brewing in the air. On occasion when she had made coffee in the morning, he'd dragged himself into the kitchen and sipped on it to wake himself up enough to talk with her a few minutes before she left. He'd always felt like she made it unbelievably hot and painfully strong. And she didn't believe in cream and sugar, so he sipped it black. Even now, when he had to make it himself and could put whatever he wanted in it, he couldn't help but drink it black and scalding. And in drinking it, he felt like she was almost there with him.

This morning was one of those ridiculously early mornings. In fact, most people would probably still call this nighttime. Turning his head and looking out through the window on his right, Fin saw the yard in grays and blacks. The grass swam gently in the wind and moonlight and the shrubs and flowers danced along the fence line. Beyond the dark greenery, he could see some of the twists and bars of the old wrought iron fence that surrounded the yard. Past the yard's periphery, rolling land that once belonged to the original owner of the house stretched west, toward downtown. It was mostly wild now, with shrubs and grasses carpeting the place where crops had once grown. Over the field, he looked toward Fairview Street, the only street running north out of the neighborhood. He couldn't see the street in this darkness and at this angle, but he could see the muted blur of several streetlights dotting the road periodically as it stretched north toward Ridge Road. Beyond Fairview, he could see the gray haze of more fields rolling almost seamlessly into Allbrook Cemetery. He couldn't see far enough to distinguish anything within the cemetery itself, but he knew where to look. In his mind, the shadows of mausoleums stood starkly against the backdrop of night.

Facing forward again, he took another sip of bitter coffee and looked aimlessly at the kitchen wall in front of him. Though his last house had been fairly small, it had been neatly decorated. Along many of the walls were pictures and paintings, small banners and tapestries, freestanding shelves of books, movies, wooden carvings, and metalwork. Yet the walls of this house were still relatively bare. He had most of those decorations still, in boxes throughout the house, but he hadn't done anything with them. He knew that if she were here, there would be something interesting, probably quirky and unique, on the kitchen wall in front of him. Sipping his coffee, he would be looking at an old tin sign, a colorful tapestry, a shelf with hooks hanging down from it with rustic and oddly shaped spoons dangling from it. Yet there was nothing, save the light gray of the kitchen wall in front of him.

Getting up and taking his coffee into the living room, Fin found a mindless video on his phone to watch. He stretched out on the couch covering himself partially with a small, dark blue blanket that he had had for a long time. In his last house, the couch used to be practically covered in blankets, but most of them were still in boxes now. Laying there, Fin put the phone down on the table beside his coffee and rested his head against the armrest at the end of the couch. He listened to the video as he stared up at the ceiling. He felt tired, but he knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. Instead, he figured he would wait out the rest of the eclipsing night on the couch.

He stayed there for several hours. Sometimes he sat and sometimes he laid down across the couch, sipping his coffee slowly as it cooled into the early morning. Eventually, still laying there, the sun finally risen, he thought he heard the clank of the front gate as if someone opened or closed it. Listening intently, he heard footsteps, light at first, and then distinctly as they climbed the short stairs to the porch and passed through the thin wooden door. Fin heard the door sway closed against the doorframe and sat up, turning his video off. As the steps progressed across his porch, he stood up and made his way toward the door. Someone knocked just as he walked through the foyer and he quickly peered out the door's small window to see who it was. Immediately at ease, he opened the door, somewhat surprised.