The Mad House

Back When The House Was Alive

"John, do you not hear the baby!" came his wife's whining voice, appearing in the living room with curlers in her hair. It was sometime after nine, and certainly Mary was getting ready for bed when she was interrupted by the constant cry of that loud child.
"Yes, I hear her. How could I not?" John groaned.
"That's not the point, it was rhetorical!" Mary protested. "I'm asking you why you're not doing anything to stop it! Rosie's not my sole responsibility you know? This is our shared burden!"
"And I'm doing my part! Come on, she's only been at it since..."
"Since I went upstairs. Twenty minutes ago. You've been sitting there for like...twenty minutes, ignoring our child." Mary groaned, scooping the baby out of her little playpen and cradling her in her arms protectively. Rosie kept on crying, yet as Mary rocked her slowly she seemed to calm down, and steadily her wails turned instead into soft cooing.
"Well I've been preoccupied." John protested. "Besides, that's all she wanted. Attention."
"Which you're actually able to provide her with!" Mary defended, yet all the same once Rosie's crying died down, her anger seemed to fade away as well. She was just tired, John could see it in her heavy eyes, and she didn't have the energy to be mad at her husband right now. "Oh I'm sorry John, I'm just exhausted. I'm not in my right mind." Mary said finally, shaking her head and walking over to sit next to John on the couch. He had the slightest urge to hide his drawing from her, to tuck it away where she couldn't see it, however he was too late. Just as soon as he got the idea that Mary shouldn't see the man's face she made a little noise of confusion, craning her neck to get a better look at the face that was drawn.
"Who's that?" she asked, with some curiosity and some interrogation. John sighed heavily, tucking the drawing away from Mary's eyes and shrugging his shoulders.
"Not sure, really. Just a sketch." He lied quickly. Mary hummed, obviously not convinced, yet went back to bouncing the baby on her knee. Rosie was smiling now, dressed in her little striped pajamas.
"I didn't know you liked to draw." Mary mumbled.
"Well I don't, really. I just sort of had a piece of paper, and drew it on a whim. It's rubbish anyway, I'm a bad artist." John managed with a little chuckle.
"Well, as with all things you can improve." Mary shrugged. "With drawing, and with fatherhood." John looked towards her immediately, so as to read her face for the emotions that went along with such a statement. Thankfully there was a teasing smile on her face, rather than the scowl he had been expecting, and so he knew with a breath of relief that she was joking. Well of course John could improve his fatherhood skills, yet all the same it really wasn't Mary's place to judge.
"I suppose you're right, on both fronts." John agreed. "I've just been so distracted, by that house I...I don't know why it's got me so obsessed."
"Well you're just interested in it, who wouldn't be? It's a great big house, beautiful thing really." Mary assured.
"Ya I know, it's gorgeous. But what are we even going to do with it? What can we do with it? This is our home, we can't just move into that old thing. We can't rent it." John grumbled. "But now we're responsible for it! And it'll be on my conscience if I let it fall to dust."
"Why can't we rent it? I'm sure there will be people out there who would love to rent a room! So they'd have to share a kitchen, but it's got enough space for all of those bedrooms to be filled with comfortable, happy occupants. I think that'll be a great way to get some more money." Mary offered excitedly. Yet the idea of renting that place out to strangers, who would leave their messes, and disrespect the house...well in fact the very idea of other people inside of the house left John nauseated. For whatever reason he felt defensive of the thing, as if the structure itself was one of his oldest, most exclusive friends. Certainly he couldn't invite people to live inside of it, no, the house wouldn't allow it either.
"I don't think I could let myself do that either." John grumbled. "I feel like that house is...well it's mine. I don't like the idea of other people inside of it."
"That's a strangely obsessive view point for you, John. You didn't even care about the house yesterday." Mary pointed out with a frown.
"Well, it's not yesterday anymore, is it Mary?" John snapped, getting to his feet rather angrily and snatching up his drawing once more. Mary gave a great sigh, as if she really was sick of her husband's childishness in situations like these.
"Oh come on John, don't make me out to be the bad guy. I'm just brainstorming." Mary defended, following John to her feet and clutching onto Rosie carefully. John nodded, pausing next to the stairwell and taking a deep breath, staring down into the eyes of this pencil creation, staring into the eyes and seeing real eyes staring back at him. Seeing this face but on a body, a body on a bed. His bed.
"I know, I'm sorry. Like I said I'm just...I'm preoccupied." John admitted finally, and with that he ascended the stairs to his bedroom, hoping to leave the conversation of the house behind him.