Follies of Youth

Homecoming (Part II)

Arthur entered his bedroom, a tired sigh escaping his lips. The weeks dealing with the funeral arrangements and Sylvia's grieving were exhausting, to say the least. Closing the door behind him, he allowed himself to collapse on the comforts of the soft mattress, a relieved sigh escaping his lips as he closed his eyes to catch up on much-needed sleep. But sleep seemed to be out of his grasp as thousands of thoughts clouded his head, buzzing and screeching for his attention.

'What if I'm making a mistake?' he spoke out to himself. His mind continued to wander; 'I shouldn't have brought her back. What if he comes back for her?'

The thoughts were alarming and distressing, Arthur avoided giving much thought to his worries - Sylvia's return might bring her more harm. He remained sprawled on his bed, eyes drawn to the ceiling of his bedroom. His mind kept wandering to his niece, his worrying thoughts continuously picking him apart as the nothingness wrapped him in a taunting isolation. The silence was suddenly disturbing, the empty room held a strange presence to it, one he was far too familiar with. He didn't address it, he will never address it - not again. The stillness and emptiness became more pronounced, more distracting, more terrifying but he refused to bow to it.

The sharp sound of the doorbell shattered the hold of the ominous presence in his room, he felt like he could breathe again. Arthur hurriedly sat up and rushed to his front door, stumbling and almost tripping on his way there. Quickly opening the front door, Arthur greeted two young men who were both wearing a hideous grey uniform with a striking red logo that read "Red Ant Movers" etched on the upper left of their chests and a smile across their faces.

"I assume that's all the stuff from the house?" He asked cheerfully as he smiled at them.

One of them nodded and stepped aside, gesturing to Arthur to follow him. "Yes, also the front door is a bit too small for the piano..." the young man trailed off, a sheepish smile on his face. Arthur nodded, stepping aside from the door, he motioned towards the sliding doors just past the living room.

"Please come around the back, I'll open the sliding doors for you." He replied with a smile.

 "Thank you, sir." one of them replied as they returned to their truck, unlocking and sliding the metal door up to open.

Arthur left the front door open and crossed the room to the sliding doors. Fishing the keys that he left in his pocket, Arthur unlocked the sliding doors with a distinct 'click' and slid it open as wide as it could go. A few minutes later, the two young men waddled in his sight, carrying a heavy black grand piano. An amused snort escaped his lips as he watched them struggle to carry the object, they were like ants awkwardly trying to carry their food back in their hill. Seeing that he had left them to struggle enough, Arthur exited through the sliding doors and helped them carry the piano inside. Getting it through the sliding doors still proved quite a challenge for them, having to awkwardly position the piano in their arms to get it inside and then waddle to a preferred spot where it wouldn't cause an interruption. After a couple of trial and error, they had finally placed the piano adjacent to the wall of Damien's room at an angle to allow room for movement.

The movers had finally finished placing down the last of the boxes left in Sylvia's old house, most of them containing mementoes of her grandmother and some of her other personal belongings. Arthur had thanked them and paid for their service, he watched them get in their truck and leave while bidding him one last wave before they drove away. Silence veiled the house again like a thick blanket of wool, suffocating the cheerful and bright atmosphere present mere seconds ago. With a weary sigh, Arthur shut the front door while lingering before it for a few seconds, his mind reeling with thoughts. Another heavy breath escaped his lips, there was no use standing in front of his front door and so he pulled away and made his way to his living room where about six boxes or more piled over one another. He eyed the boxes, he might as well unpack them seeing that sleep seems to evade him, always slipping pass his fingers as he tried to grasp it desperately.