There were bags inside the car and Nash took them out. He told me not to help him, I mostly think he wants to be alone. I take the opportunity to walk into the house.
It's just as big as I remember. All modern and luxurious. Looking back at everything when I was a kid, I thought it was so bland. The walls all black and ash grey, I thought it was boring. There was nothing bright and fruitful to me that sparked my interest.
Growing up, I've outgrown that dislike of the decor. I find it simple and neat now. But although I didn't like the way it looked when I was young, I miss this place. The memories are still fresh in my mind.
Every single room holds value to me. Being here for a will makes me seem kind of like a gold digger, I know but that's not the intention. The intention is to keep this house within the family. It can't go anywhere as far as I'm concerned.
It means more than the world to me to uphold it. My family thinks saving the house is a waste of time. They only paid for it when my grandmother lived here and couldn't make money herself. Seems heartless but it comes from place of common sense. Why pay rent for a house that no one's living in?
A little sniffle comes from my nose as I imagine my little grandmother walking around this house all alone. I do regret not seeing her as much but I can't change the past. Family photos hang around the house and there's only a matter of time before someone comes to grab them. I sigh, leaning on the door frame of the balcony, overlooking the beach and 3 o clock sun.
"It's like a breath of fresh air isn't it?" Nash's voice sounds in my ear. I look back at him momentarily and he steps up beside me, leaning on the other side of the door frame.
"More like a tsunami of passed moments." I speak lightly. The feeling of his eyes on me doesn't faze me but it lets me know he's here for me. It's good to have that kind of reassurance with me for this.
I look over to him and smile cheekily. The aura of this house isn't depressing nor is it morbid, so I'm not going to sit around and mope. There's more good in this house than bad.
"Well, we all have our ways to cope." He starts to walk away with a ghost of a smile on his face and a piece of gum between his teeth. I follow behind him and we end up in a guest room. I guess you can call it his room. He was here a lot of our childhood like a member of the family.
"Like yours?" I ask flopping on the bed next to him. He looks at me curiously popping his gum. I laugh. Kind of a weird topic to have a laugh at. The ways that we cope with deaths. His sister, my Nana.
"The gum." He makes a funny face at me and then laughs. There's a kind of dullness in his eyes, like there's not much humor in what I just said as he's making it seem.
"Yeah..." Nash's laughter dies down and I start to feel sort of bad. "Like mine."
