Rules of Escape

Chapter 21 - Jesse

Jesse runs his finger along the top of the grand piano and wipes the dust off on his pants. He sits down at the piano and pushes the key board cover up, runs his fingers along the keys. Amazingly, it is still in tune, after all these years.

What was the last song he had played that Christmas so many years ago? Some Mozart piece. There was a fast section, and a slow section. He had enjoyed playing the slow section. How did it go? He pokes a few keys to see if he can remember. Slowly his fingers find their way across the keys, recalling their once familiar path. He can almost smell the hot chocolate everyone had sipped while watching his performance.

Jesse stands up. The piano is in good shape, worth a lot. It will have to be moved. No telling what Evan will do to it. It is of no use to Evan.

Jesse walks through all the rooms of the house. It is hard to keep focused. His goal is to determine if the house is habitable, but every room is crowded with memories making it difficult for him to see past the dust, to look for moisture or pest problems.

Jesse sits down at the kitchen table, wiping sweat from his brow. Barely even summer, and the house exudes heat. He breathes deeply, trying to catch his breath and calm himself. There is lots of work to do here.

He takes out a sheet of paper and starts writing a list of things that need to be done. Why can't Evan just stay put? Why move here of all places? Everything Evan does, means more work for Jesse. More stress. More sleepless nights. And for what? Jesse gets nothing out of it except perhaps a mild, fleeting feeling of doing the right thing. Why does he do it? To fill his parents shoes because they either can't or won't? He has his own kids, for God's sake. They should be his priority. He should be at home teaching them about life and helping them become good responsible adults.

"Jesse!" Joe calls. "Jesse! Where are you?!"

"In the kitchen," Jesse calls back. He realizes with a sinking feeling, that he doesn't even have energy to get up and meet his grandpa and instead waits for him to gradually make his way to the kitchen.

"You look terrible," Joe says, entering the kitchen. "Get up. We're going to see Gladys."

"I need to finish the list."

"Like hell you do. Stand up. I have something for you, but first we need to find it."

"Let me guess, it's at Gladys's. So who's Gladys, anyways?"

"A lovely woman, who's hopefully still alive."

"Have I ever met her?"

"Probably not. She's crazy as a road lizard."

"A what?"

"She's nuts, OK? Let's go."

Jesse mops his forehead again. His shirt clings to his back. The house is cooking him alive, like a crab put in a warm pot of water and set to boil. Outside, the temperature is slightly cooler, but still, the idea of a walk to God-knew-where, was not appealing.

"I'll drive," Jesse says. "I'll put the top up and the air conditioning on."

"Don't be ridiculous. It's not far."

Half an hour later, Joe stands peering at a house far back from the road. "I think this is it," he says.

"You're shitting me right? I thought you knew where we were going," Jesse says. His heart races and he knows his blood pressure must be through the roof.

Evan stands close to Joe. "This is it. I'm pretty sure," Joe says. Evan helps Joe walk down the unpaved, grassy driveway to the little house.

At the front door, Joe knocks twice, hard. There is no sound from inside the house. The curtains are drawn. Joe knocks again, this time on the window.