The Chronicles of Us

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The minute
we walked
into the house,
it felt
like a slap to the face.
Like something renewed,
something reborn.
Of course
I loved it,
not only because of the
spiral staircase,
the mile of private beach,
or the fact that
I had my own third floor;
but Martha
(the real estate woman who sold it to us)
said that
there
were
two
people
killed
in
there.
I mean,
I was totally for buying a house filled with
bad memories;
the house was
gorgeous.
It even smelt
amazing,
of oil and leather.
It had everything mom wanted: columns,
a huge bathtub,
an enormous kitchen,
a walk in closet,
etc.
(It also cost almost half its value do to all of the death and all of the stories on the news)
Simple to say,
it was the one
and we both knew it.
"What exactly happened in the house, Martha?" My mother asked.
"The, um---son---was beaten to death in the upstairs room. The father---killed himself in the master bathroom."
"Everything has been replaced, though. Right?"
"Yes. Everything has been replaced. The shower, the bath tiles, the carpets---"
Then
my mother
and
I
both exchanged smiles,
and my mother said,
"We'll take it."
My room
was pretty great.
It had a huge closet
and there was a bathroom connected.
I really liked the windows,
too.
They took up almost the whole back wall
and the sunlight seemed to
swallow
the room whole.
We moved into the house three days after the
"For Sale"
sign came down.
I fell asleep
writing in my journal
the first night.
When I woke up, I
couldn't help
but feel
that someone
was watching me.
I was freaked,
but I closed the notebook
and rolled over,
and
fell back asleep.
The next morning,
my mother was
in the kitchen
making me
breakfast.
I spoke
nothing
of my
strange
experience.
My mother
twirled
her auburn
hair in her fingers.
Sometimes
I envied my mother.
She was so lucky
to be beautiful.
Her perfect waves,
slim figure,
long eyelashes.
Jesus,
why couldn't
I have looked
more like her?
I took the looks of my father.
I didn't remember him,
of course,
he left me
before I could ever
get a
good look
at him.
I helped my mom
unpack the things that were still boxed up.
It was mainly our clothes
and some kitchen utensils.
"Do you think starting over was a good idea?"
She asked.
"Yeah, mom,
everyone needs a second chance of renewal."
She smiled
through her hair.
It just so happened
that my mother
forgot to bring
shampoo.
So after worrying
about my safety
and me reassuring her,
she told me she'd
be back from the store
in forty-five minutes
because
she wanted to get
the supplies
for dinner as well.
I put my box of books on my bed
and began to
unpack them.
I wiped the
dust
off of one of my old book covers.
It was "Catcher In The Rye".
I scanned through a few pages
and found a dog eared one. Highlighted,
it said,
"Who wants a flower when you're dead? Nobody."
I sighed.
Then,
I heard something.
I turned.
There
was
a
boy
standing
by
my
door.
I was terrified.
I backed up,
but I only had my bed,
so I crawled backwards
until my back
hit the wall.
"Sorry,"
He sighed,
"I've been rude."
He sincerely
looked
ashamed.
He bent down,
and to my surprise
he grabbed the book
I dropped.
I didn't even
realize it left my hand.
He stepped forward
and handed it me.
As his hand
touched mine,
his eyes
focused
on my face.
I was sort of shocked.
I didn't notice
until then
that he was the most
alluring
thing
I had ever seen.
He was around my age,
with hair
that was as
dark as night,
eyes the color of emeralds.
His skin was like
porcelain.
"With great beauty comes great danger"
rang in my ears
like a siren.
"I knocked,"
He explained,
"I wanted to meet you. You didnt answer so---I guess I wasn't thinking."
"No, you weren't..."
I looked around on my bed
for something to
bash his face in with.
Luckily for me,
I had "The Great Gatsby"
in hardback.
"Well, I'm Hayes Graymark."
He ran his
fingers
through his
dark hair.
"What was your name?"
It was probably the
creepiest
situation
I had ever encountered:
me
alone in my three story house,
the one
two people
died in
one year before,
and all of a sudden
some
beautiful
boy
comes
barging
in my room without me
noticing.
How screwed up was that?
But the most screwed up thing
was that
I wasn't really
scared of him.
I mean,
I was scared to
death
of this scenario,
but
Hayes Graymark
seemed
incapable
of
hurting
a
fly.
He had a look
of innocence.
Honestly,
he seemed more
frightened of me
than I was of him.
I don't think
he was necessarily
scared of what
I was capable of,
he could
take me down easily.
(He had a good six inches on me, plus about a ninety pound weight difference)
I think he was scared
of my reaction
to his appearance.
I don't think he wanted me
to not like him.
And I didn't not like him,
not really.
"My name is Lena Carlisle."
I said.
"It was probably a bad idea for me to barge in here wasn't it?"
He turned
to walk away.
Instinctively,
I had to make sure
he'd leave
rather than
roaming
around my house.
"I will walk you out."
I popped
up on my heels
and began to
follow him.
He was in front of me
and maneuvered
through all of the hallways
and rooms
perfectly
without my assistance.
"You seem to know this place pretty well."
I said quietly.
It seemed to be
the only sound
through the house
other than our
shuffling feet.
Without looking back over at me behind him,
he said,
"I used to know the people here. I came here a lot."
"Where do you live?" I asked.
"A few houses down. I think that's why I forgot my manners. I was here all of the time, so it still feels the same."
I nodded,
even though he couldn't see.
We reached the front door
and he opened it.
"Would it be bad if I came back to see you?"
He stopped at the doorway
and looked at me
thoughtfully,
"Would you be angry?"
I considered my options.
I could shove
him out of the door
and call him a
freak,
I could politely
turn him down,
or---
"I'd be a bit mad if you didn't knock---but I don't think my parents would mind too much."
"Could I see you tomorrow?"
I bit my lip.
"Maybe if you knock."
And then I shut the door.
Involuntarily,
A smile
appeared
upon
my
face.