The House

Chapter 2: Addie

The tapping of my fingers on the top of the steering wheel keeps time with the left blinker and the faint beat coming from the radio. Glancing up I see the red light, mocking me.

I'm not in any hurry, but I still feel that the stop light hanging over a completely empty intersection is laughing at me.

I'm not the patient type.

Reaching into the center console I fumble around for my phone, my hand bumping into granola bar wrappers and crumpled up, coffee stained notes covered in addresses and words written in illegible handwriting. Most of the addresses are for coffee shops around or near the campus of my university.

The day I moved into my dorm I bought my first cup of college coffee from this tiny hole in the wall shop across the street.

It was terrible. Ever since that I vowed to find the perfect cup of coffee. Let's just say the people of my college town do not know how to make coffee. I had slowly been going further and further away from the campus trying to find a place that could make a decent cup.

Actually, that's not entirely fair. I had found quite a few good coffee shops, but I think it had just become such a part of my life, going out every weekend and dragging a friend with me to a new place, that it became hard to give up.

It was also a way for me to escape the stress of papers being due and studying off of notes that were covered in mediocre doodles. If I felt like I was about to go crazy I would just get in my crappy-old-I-don't-know-what-model car or jump on a bus and go and get a cup of coffee.

I stare down at the notes for a while and think about how I should throw them away, since there's no need for them now. It's summer and I'm back home in the little town where I grew up. And might I mention there is only one place to get coffee.

My thumb slides across the screen of my phone quickly as I send a quick text to Raleigh saying I'm almost there.

I reach out and turn up the music a bit, getting more creative with my finger tapping. I leave half of my fingers on the wheel and lift up the other, then alternate fingers. Then I completely lose track of the music and I'm not even on the beat anymore. I'm a poor excuse for any kind for dancer, even one that only uses her fingers.

Raleigh and his grandfather would always make fun of the fact that I don't have one rhythmic bone in my body. I feel a small smile creep onto my face as I think about how they found it extra hilarious because I took dance classes for the first ten years of my life. But it seems that when I hit puberty my sense coordination left, never to return.

I hear a loud sound behind me, calling me out of my thoughts. Looking around I realize that the sound is coming from the horn of the car behind me. My head snaps forward and I quickly see that the red light has changed to the most beautiful color an impatient person could see: green.

I step on the gas and make my turn down the familiar tree lined road. The woods on the left side break away as the road curves around a hill and turns next to the ocean.

Peering out of my window in desperate need of a wash, I take my eyes off the road. The white caps out on the dark water catch my eye and I see the rain coming down in sheets further out. It will hit any minute now.

I think that's what I missed most about this town, the feeling the storms have. They feel so raw, never touching land before and only touching sea. The clouds slam into the coast with as much power as they have to give and the air sounds like it's being torn.

The road turns back inland and I have to leave the water behind for now.

I've been on this road too many times to count, but driving down it now feels different. Like everything has changed, and I guess it has. The last time I passed these trees I was going to see someone that I'll never see again. Thinking that, I feel the now familiar twinge of loss pinching at the back of mind. It's so dull now, or maybe I'm too numb, that I don't focus on it like I used to. But it's still there.

I remember when my phone vibrated in the middle of the night on the bedside table. As the screen came to life announcing the caller, my small dorm room lit up as the harsh blue light was cast around the walls creating sharp shadows. I couldn't fall asleep that night so I welcomed the distraction the phone call brought.

Checking the name on the screen I saw that it was my parents and began to get confused. They only called once a week and that phone call never came in the middle of night. I slid the unlock button and answered. Bringing the phone to my ear I whispered, "Hello." to keep from waking my roommate.

My mother answered with a voice filled with sadness. I don't remember her words but I remember the message that they carried: Raleigh's grandpa had passed away. I was hit with the reality of the situation immediately, the fact that I would never see him again. He was my grandfather too, just not by blood.

I shake myself out of the flashback. I don't want to get all depressed right before I'm about to see Raleigh because he will be able to tell that something's off. I always loved and hated that about him; I could never keep anything to myself.

I see the familiar opening in the trees coming up on the left and turn my car onto the crushed shell drive. Pulling up to the house with its chipped blue-grey paint and the sun bleached curtains hanging in the window. I'm so happy. I haven't been to this place in so long, and I was starting to really miss it.

I turn off the car and just stare at the place where all my best memories took place before getting out and walking up to the door.