Prologue
I already like this house. We pulled up to the LA victorian and my heart was already pounding.There is something about this home that radiates from the inside. A feeling...a soul? As if the house has long awaited the touch of a person.
To have a live, warm body run their fingers down the banisters and along the walls. Longing to hear the sweet words of another. As if someone was sitting in there, waiting for me to step inside. I brought my eyes up to the stained glass windows and saw a distorted, but noticeable, figure of a person pushing away the curtains.
"Philip?"
I turned and looked at my mother who was staring at me with a disconcerted look, "Are you alright, honey?"
I looked back at the window, the sun illuminating the glass pane. There was no one there, "Yeah, I'm fine." That window held my gaze for a long, quiet minute, "Just fine."
The moving van brought all of our belongings one by one and I gave myself a grand tour of the abode. Just walking into the door was a grand view. Real Tiffany fixtures and windows that were stained brilliant colors. There was a spiraling staircase and I felt chills as I walked past the second story chandelier that hung gracefully in the center of the enormous staircase. "Mom, I am going to find myself a room."
I was presented with no answer so I just went along. I ran into a couple bathrooms and other endless hallways. At the end of one hallway, however, was a room. I brought myself to the eerie space and slowly pushed the door open as it creaked on it's dusty hinges. The room was a blank white space and one wall was a blackboard. I walked up to the middle of the room and a dingy, pale yellow string hit me in the eye.
"What the what?" I pulled it and dust came down with a small square from the ceiling. "Is this the attic?" I took my time to walk around to the front of it and pulled down the rest of what appeared to be a ladder. "Well this is interesting." I got a couple bars up the ladder before my mother called me to dinner. I looked up into the darkness of the attic, "I'll deal with you later."
As I descended the ladder, I felt a cool wind brush against my cheek and stay there. A still cool, just sitting on my skin. My neck hairs stood on end. The feeling made me descend the ladder faster.
~~~
"So, how is the new house for you, Phil?" Dad smiled at me from the other side of the table. I looked at mom, her black hair with a couple of contrasting grays fell from her shoulder. I smiled.
"I'm liking it, actually. But, isn't this kind of big for three people?"
Dad smiled, "Well, that is kind of what we were going to talk about, why we moved here." He looked at mom and she had a tired look on her face. Dad squeezed her hand and I instantly knew what was going on. "You see, your mother is pregnant again."
I looked them both in the eye and stayed quiet. I had to gather my nerves. I inhaled and closed my eyes, thinking about this for a second. "Mother. Do you know what happens to most women who have a child over the age of forty? You're fifty-two."
She smiled and looked at me, "Well, I know it was unexpected, but Philip. This is a fresh start. For the both of us. For all of us. I know that your father has made some mistakes in the past, but this is a way for us to...start a new life. For all of us."
"You know what. I am tired of you two corrupting my mind with this idea, so distant, that you call love. How mom? I think you are so strong, staying with him even though you can count how many times he has hurt you on your fingers. Call me back when the baby is the child of a husband and wife, not strangers who just had sex and then a child. I'm not hungry." I cleared my throat and looked both of them in the eye, "Now, if you would gladly excuse me, I have some unpacking to do."
I got up from the table and when I did, I didn't even feel like letting a tear fall from my eyes, no. Instead, I just got highly pissed off and ran up the stairs faster.
~
I decided to put all of my miscellaneous things in the attic part, like my bean bag chair, TV, game consoles and all. Every time I went up, the trip felt harder and much more impossible to bear. Fuck, why did I leave the television last to be brought up?
I hiked it up in my arms and slowly started to walk. The ladder creaked a little louder than it has before, and I'm starting to break a sweat. Not looking back to where I step, I miss my step and feel myself start to fall over. But once I started to lose my balance, I felt the television get lighter in my arms. It was in an upright position and it felt as if somebody was helping me.
Nobody was there, however.
Okay, who is doing this? Am I on that American TV show "PUNK'D" because very funny guys.
But I simply brushed it off and kept going up the steps. Once I got to the flooring of the attic, I set the television down near the inner wall. I scurried around looking for an outlet, when I realized that this house was built in the 18th century. They didn't have power outlets. I think.
Feeling that the attic was the only untouched room in the house, I knew there had to be an outlet somewhere else. So I hung my head out of the little slit of ceiling and paraded my eyes around, looking for a decent plug. My eyes continue to wander when I suddenly look left, next to the light, and there was a very small power outlet, with only room for one plug to get in. Yet, I know I am going to have problems. The ceiling fan is on, and the outlet is right in the middle of the circling blades that, when off, don't look dangerous. But this fan was on.
I should probably get down to turn it off.
But that's so much work.
I looked back behind me to see if I could grab on to anything, and all I could hold on to was the flooring of the attic. So I gripped as hard as I could, my fingers bundling up, curling around one another. I leaned forward, and then to my left. It keeps getting farther and farther away as I get closer to the outlet.
"Come on, come on..." I grunt as my hand is almost there, hovering not even an inch above the spinning blades. This is a really fast fan. I jerk up to insert the plug, but when I do, my hand gives way and in slow motion, I watch my hand get so close to the blade. But then it stops. And my hand is back at my side. I feel a cool wind in front of me as I an pushed back up and thrown into the attic, hitting the complete other side wall of the attic.
"Phil. Are you okay?" I heard my mother yell at me. All I can do is sit there and breathe, very hard. I'm hyperventilating. "What the hell?"
What pushed me in the attic? I swear I was gonna die.
But the thoughts left my mind as the tv turned on. Static, at first. But then it flashed through about twenty channels before settling on an American football game. "And the Seahawks are at the five yard line with..." My mind zoned that out. Because behind the tv, I could have sworn that there was someone standing right there.
~~~
The next day, I got home from the new school and didn't bother saying hi or greeting my parents. I just ran straight up to my room as they both exited the main door, "Bye, Phil. Do your homework." Mom smiled at me.
I just grunted and continued up the stairs until I got to the top and ran to my room. I reached my hand into my pocket and got out my old generation iPod nano. The headphone buds felt good in my ear, their cool plastic squishing. I've always loved that feeling. After deciding on some old folks music, I looked at the attic. I have no idea why, but right now, I feel like it's calling me. Just begging for my presence.
So I decided to satisfy it's needs. After pulling down the ladder, I marched myself up the creaky boards and I looked to my right, looking at the fan, and right next to it was the outlet that was now occupied by my TV plug. How did that thing got plugged in. Continuing up, I shrugged it off. Finally, I sat on the wood, my behind making the floor squeal a little.
I flung my backpack around to the front to me and pulled out my trig binder and got to work. But I couldn't work for long. There was a chill behind my neck that made all of my hairs stand on end.
A voice spoke clearly in my ear.
"That is not how you expand a binomial."
