Vanilla Scented Candles

Two - The Middle

I stare at the letter in my palms, I start going through all the possible reason that this could be a trap. I mean, he has sent me all this stuff and money but for what? My happiness? My well-being? I am overthinking it now. I found it creepy at first getting money, but I warmed up to all this furniture and clothes that are conveniently in my size almost right away. You don't ask questions after being so poor for years.

I open the envelope. This is the first time I've gotten only a letter. I am scared. I am scared of a piece of paper. I'm overthinking because of a piece of paper. Breathing deeply, I unfold the letter and read it. 'That apartment seems a little small for such a bright mind. You need an upgrade. How about a house?' then followed by an address. I reread it over and over again. I can accept money and other thing, but a house? The cheapest one for miles around is at least 280,000. I couldn't make that in ten years.

 Although the unsettling feeling rattling up inside me, I decide to at least inspect the house. If it's a trap, I should be able to tell right away, right? I grab my keys and head out the door towards my tan, '04 Chevy impala, and sit in the front seat. "What am I getting myself into?" 

After an hour, I finally find the place, and holy is it a work of art. It's extremely creepy considering it looked almost exactly like my dream home. Right away, I notice a paint bucket or two still sitting on the porch. They painted the house the exact color I wanted. This Dutch revamp is painted a beautiful baby blue with white trim and fence around the front porch. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. "How the hell do they know all this?" I say to myself. I know that I made this house recently in my Architectural Studies, but to bring it to life is more than I could imagine. It's crazy. 

I know that whoever has been giving me these gifts has looked my up, but this much? He would have to have looked at my files on the computer at school, considering I haven't turned it in as an assignment or anything. The thought makes me a little nauseous, but I am also tingling with excitement.

I don't think twice before stepping out of my car and running inside to see more. The rooms aren't the exact same, sadly, but the walls are trimmed perfectly to my plan and the floors are a beautiful chestnut. The kitchen had a marble counter top, chestnut wood cupboards and stone flooring. All the appliances were brand spanking new. "Jesus," my eyes sit upon a backdoor at the end of my kitchen, "I have a yard?"

Stepping out into the backyard was like heaven. A hammock sits on the patio with a few benches and tables. The yard was lined with a wooden fence and flowering bushes and in the middle was a newly planted willow tree surrounded by white rocks. Everything back here wasn't built or planned by me, but it was still perfection. I couldn't stop the sudden tears from flowing down my face. I almost keel over from crying when I hear a few knocks. 

I stand up straight, tears still rushing down. I reenter the house and open the front door. A man in what looked like a silk black suit stands there, hands in his pockets and looking at the floor. His hair curled all around his head, dark brown, almost like my floor. When I let in a huff of air I lost when crying violently in the backyard, the man looks up at me with brown eyes. His Brooklyn accent is clear, "Doll, why you crying? Is something wrong with the house?"

 I don't know what takes over me, but I yank him in for a hung, almost screaming out 'thank you'. It's weird. I was so uncomfortable with this just earlier today, but now it's like a dream and I can't stop from being happy. "Ha, I'm gland you like the place. My boys and I worked hard on painting it and working on the backyard," he chuckles.

 I pull away from the hug, only to ask, "Why did you do all this?" 

Again, he laughs. "That's a story for another time, doll." I blink rapidly. A story for another time? He has given me so many gifts that I feel like I need an explanation now. How am I supposed to explain to the college that I now live at a house? Oh no, the college. They'll notice everything.

"I'm so sorry, I can't accept it. I need my financial aid for college still. No matter how much you give me, it's not enough to pay for all the classes and books," I state. He smiles at me, his eyes looking at me with nothing but pure amusement.

"Actually. I had a 'talk' with some of the officials at the school. It looks to me like you are already moved into this house and still have financial aid. Oh, and don't worry about finding a moving company. My boys started to pack up your house as soon as you stepped out of it." If my jaw could it the floor, it would be. I probably look like a deer in headlights.

I shake off the look and focus, "How can I repay you?"