2:56 :: h.s

un

12:32

"Well, this is . . . nice." My mom says as she walks in the small living room.

The floors are dark wood and the walls are cream white.
There is nothing in the room yet because we have to wait for the moving truck to get here, but I have a feeling the room will be much smaller when everything is in its place.

"Why don't you go to your room? I'm sure it's cozy. I'm going to call the movers." My mom instructs.

I walk down the small hallway and open the door at the end.
This room is tiny.
I could lay down and have my feet be a foot away from the opposite wall.
Not even to mention the low ceiling.

This house is so different compared to my old one.

My father is a CEO of a cooperation, so my house was quite . . . intense.
You could scream from one end and it would be inaudible on the other.
If I remotely whispered my mother could hear me from the kitchen.
The ceilings in my old house were at least twelve feet high.
The floors were made of oak, not laminate.
This is going to take some getting used to.

"Well," my mother walks in and takes in my expression. She sighs, "the truck will be here around six. In the meantime, do you want to grab something to eat?"

I look around the room, then back at her. "Yeah, sure."

"Okay, I'll grab my keys and we'll get going."

My mother walks out of the room and I sit down on the bed already in the room.
I rest my elbows on my knees and hold my head in my hands.
I don't want to deal with this.
I can't deal with this.

"Fuck!" I shout and stand up.

If my dad wasn't such a prick this wouldn't even be happening.

"Harry." My mother calls shortly after my small outburst and her voice cracks when she does.

You have to be put together.
You have to make her feel better.

I walk into the living room and my mother is standing by the door with tears on her cheeks.

"Mom," I start.

She holds up her hand, "I'm okay."

I sigh and wrap my arms around her shoulders.
Her body rakes with sobs and gasps for air.

"It'll be okay. I promise." I tell her.

"I'm trying, honey. I'm trying so hard." She cries.

"I know, Mom."

She takes a deep breath after a minute and pulls away.
She wipes her eyes and heads for the front door.
I follow.

::

13:06

We find a Panera and decide to eat there.
Tastes just like it did in Nevada.
If not better.

"So," my mom says then takes a sip, "I talked to the realtor about the house."

I pick at my salad and take a bite, "yeah?"

She scolds me for talking with my mouth full but I shake it off.

"Anyway, they're required to tell any interested buyers of any deaths that occurred in the house within the past three years."

I stop chewing.

"And last year, a girl who was seventeen, I think, com-"

"Why would you buy a house someone died in?" I interrupt.

"Let me finish."

I nod, feeling guilty for my cocky attitude.

"She committed suicide in the garage and was found almost immediately after. Her father tried to get her down but by the time he did she was gone. It's tragic."

"What happened to her parents?" I ask, putting butter on my baguette.

"They got divorced five months later and moved away. I met with her mother to discuss the house."

"Why would you buy the house if someone died in it though? Especially if it was a suicide."

"I was apprehensive at first but after her mother and I had lunch, I knew I had to buy it. Her ex-husband and her continued looking for buyers, but whenever someone heard about their daughter, they would never call back."

"What's her name?"

"The mother's?"

"Yeah."

"Hayley Jones."

I nod and place my napkin in my bowl.
My mom takes a sip of her coffee.

"Anyway, Ms. Jones said her daughter was a very happy girl. She doesn't know why she did it but she can't help but feel like it was her fault."

"I'm sorry, Mom, but could we please stop talking about this? I'm starting to feel sick."

"I'm sorry, honey. I just think it's important to know whose past you're moving into."

She's not wrong, but something isn't sitting right.