obsession

prologue

THE SUMMER OF 1988

I was surrounded by Polly Pockets, naked Barbie dolls, and broken crayons when I first noticed the house for the first time. Really noticed. Standing tall and blue, it would be the first of many times I observed the house with a fascination I couldn't understand.

We lived in an isolated part of town, surrounded by crisp green trees, and a gigantic lake that I spent most of my childhood swimming in, fish tickling my ankles; my shrieks of joy always startled my parents.

Then there was my house, which was boring brown stone, and the big blue house. That was all there was for miles.

It was a safe place. It was my home. It was something that belonged to us.

Before that day, I never really cared. I never gave the house much attention.

But today, it was raining, and I was bound to the living room carpet, just staring out the window that took up an entire wall (which, may I add, was the coolest thing in the world in my tiny eyes). I stared out at the pouring rain, and my eyes caught the house. Blue panels, white shutters, a black front door.

"Daddy."

"Yes, cookie?"

"How come nobody lives in the blue house?"

"Oh, the one across from us?" He stumbles a little bit, like he's trying to come up with something quickly. I turn and look at him, and he has this grim expression taking up half his face.

He scratches his stubbly chin. "Well, Tate, I guess nobody wants to move into it. You know how far it is from the grocery store. I guess people aren't very willing to travel as far as we do."

"Did anyone ever live in it?" I wonder aloud, looking into a window on the second floor, thinking maybe if I squinted hard enough, someone would appear.

"Oh, of course, honey. A long time ago. I'd say you were about... gosh, you were probably two years old. Can you believe that? Long time ago, huh?"

I climb up onto his recliner to sit in his lap. "Were there any babies there?"

"Oh, sure. There were three little boys. You were such a happy baby, they loved playing with you. We sure loved that family."

"Are they all grown up now?" I ask.

He just looks at me, perplexed.

"The three boys," I try to explain impatiently. "Are they big now?"

He looks distant now, like the looks he has when he gets into fights with my mom. He looks away and out at the blue house. "Well, I guess they are."

"I wish they were still here. So I could be friends with them again."

He rests his chin on top of my head, the weight of his sighs overpowering me. "Me too."