Vacant

by S. Graham

  I nod. Mitch passes me Tylenol and a glass of water. I swallow it and shake my head. "I could have been really hurt, Mitch!"

  "Yes, you could have been. I'm going to go back up and check on the boys."

  "Did you fix the dresser?"

  "Yeah, I just lifted it when I realized you weren't behind me. Let's avoid crazy medical bills before we leave back to Canada."

  "You booked it, right?"

  "Yeah, the second I got the confirmation the bang happened upstairs. I've had way too much Red Bull for this kind of stuff."

  I watch Mitch leave the room, and a minute later, I hear him upstairs with the kids.

  Something deep down inside is telling me that Mitch may be now starting to believe me.

  I think the boy wanted to inflict serious pain on me. I could feel his anger with that violent shove that made me plummet down the stairs; so powerful.

  Closing my eyes, I feel the throbbing of my shoulder slowly start to subside—just a couple of more weeks, not even.

  Chapter 17

  The next morning, I walk back into the house. I feel conquered, sore, and completely finished. I'm now in a sling and have been told to take it easy. Nothing was broken, thank God, but there was some severe bruising.

  "Look, Logan, Mom has one arm now!" Connor points, and Logan stares at me, shocked as I close the front door.

  Mitch smiles and shakes his head. "You poor thing!" He chuckles. "Thankfully we are almost all packed now because you would have a problem. I've done all these boxes while you were at the doctors. We should be set now."

  Looking over to the wall, he now has a dozen boxes packed stacked on top of each other. The house is starting to look empty again.

  "I booked a hotel for next week. The house is almost ready to go, and the movers will come and load all of our boxes storing them in a container until we are ready to leave. We can spend the last couple weeks in a hotel and get this house cleaned and ready to go."

  I was so happy, almost choking up, letting out a smile of relief. "Really? So how many more days here?"

  "Just a couple I think. I'm going to run out and grab some things. Why don't you take the kids over to the waterpark with Carol? She came over looking for you and I told her about your arm."

  "Good idea!" I pick up the phone and call Carol. Playdate it is.

  "Hello boys!" Carol waves from the grassy spot inside the waterpark. The boys run over to her and give her a big hug. "The kids are over there with the water guns, and I have two more super soakers ready and loaded for you." She hands them over, and they run off with big grins chasing their friends.

  "Hi," I say, hugging her.

  "Hi darling, how's that arm? I couldn't believe it when Mitch told me this morning. Thank Goodness you are okay. You know it could have been way worse? People die falling down stairs."

  "Yeah. I could have broken my neck!"

  "Come sit down over here with the ladies."

  "Ladies?" I say. I had no idea anyone else was coming. She's leading me over to a cute setup of coolers, lawn chairs, blankets, and a picnic for all the children. She always thinks of everything. "How cute." Dropping my bag full of sunscreen, I look over and see a lot of familiar faces. All the ladies from my street. "Hello everyone!" I say with a wave.

  "Hi, Becca, we heard about your arm. You poor thing. Come sit."

  I grab a lawn chair, relieved to have a spot in the shade.

  "We are sure going to miss you, Becca. Are you all packed now?"

  "Yes, we are. The house is almost entirely packed now thanks to Mitch finishing it off since I'm kind if useless now. We plan on leaving the house the day after tomorrow and then stay in a hotel while we get the house cleaned."

  "Don't you dare leave without saying goodbye." Carol points at me.

  "Not a chance. We will be in and out all the time."

  "It's sad. It was so nice to see that house with a family in it."

  I frown. "That house?"

  I watch Carol put her hand on the lady's arm as to say, "No, not now."

  "It was a nice house and a shame we couldn't stay. It's nice to be heading back home to Canada near our family. We have never lived close to our family the last 15 years. The kids are at that age where they love to be close to the grandparents. My best memories were living so close to my family and heading to their house almost every day."

  "Oh, for sure!" Carol agrees. "It makes sense and I bet your mom is over the moon."

  "Yes." I beam. "For sure!"

  I look over at the boys running through the water park; they will surely miss this too. Living here was great, other than the house.

  "Carol says you had some crazy things happen in that house while you were there. We would love to hear about it. I totally believe in that stuff!" I look over at the lady, startled. I've only met her one other time, and she's all about what's going on in my life at the moment, especially the house. "Oh… nothing really. Only a few odd things here and there." I wave my hand to downplay the fact and hopefully guide the subject in another direction.

  Carol pipes up. "Not really, Becca. You need to tell these ladies."

  I look over at Carol, annoyed. Why? Why do I need to sit and tell these ladies?

  "It was really nothing. Just a feeling and some odd things like lights and sounds."

  "Sounds? What kinds of sounds?" They are intrigued now.

  "Sometimes it was doors shutting, someone calling out for Mom, giggling, laughing and running upstairs. It was such a strange house and I'm glad to be moving on now."

  They are just staring at me. Silently.

  "What are you hens chatting about?" A man is walking up to us.

  Carol stands up. "Mike, this is Becca."

  "Nice to meet you, Becca!" He extends his hand for a shake.

  "What are you doing here, Mike? Coming to cool down with the kids?"

  "Me? No!" He Laughs. "Richie forgot his sunscreen so I just wanted to run it down. Teenagers nowadays. Can't remember a thing sometimes, I swear!"

  "Becca is moving back to Canada in a couple days. She lived right next door to Carol. She was just telling us some crazy things that went on in her house."

  I look over at the lady. That's such a stupid thing to say. Why would he care, and how dare you put me on the spot?

  "It's nothing, really," I reiterate again, feeling everyone's eyes on me. I'm starting to feel set up.

  "I always knew there would be sounds and things going on in that house," Mike pipes up.

  I turn my head and look up at him, glaring. "Why is that, may I ask?"

  "It was a pity of that little boy who died in that house so young some time back. It doesn't surprise me that the house is unsettled."

  The air is getting sucked right out of me, and my stomach tightens.

  "What boy? When? My house?"

  Carol has panic in her eyes. She grabs my hand. "Don't worry about it, Becca. It's nothing and I was so happy to see the house with a family in it. I was so happy to see you and those beautiful boys."

  I pull my hand from Carol's. "You knew? This whole time I was scared and terrified sharing my nightmares with you, and you knew about a death of a child, in my home!" I could feel the anger building up in me like a kettle.

  "Everyone knew, Becca," says Mike. "The house was vacant forever after. The whole community knew. I write for the local paper and even have an article at home somewhere about the death of that boy."

  I feel almost betrayed and lied to. "Everyone knew and didn't say anything to me? You don't think that's something I would want to know?" I stand up. Suddenly, I want to leave.

  "Becca, we didn't want you to leave. We couldn't stand to see that house vacant another day."

  One of the ladies stands up and reaches for some vegetables on the snack platter. The smell of ranch dip makes me sick, and tunnel vision is taking over my body. I hear the ladies yap back and forth about "the house", my home. "That house always gave me the creeps. I remember when I was walking the dogs and look
ed up to the second floor I swear I saw someone in the upstairs window."

  "Here, Becca, sit down. Let's talk about the house. We can tell you everything."

  "No!" I say firmly. "I've had about enough of listening to this shit and honestly… what kind of friends are you to keep this from me? I've got to get the kids home anyways."

  I push past Carol. "Becca, please."

  "She was bound to find out eventually, Carol. We kept it from her for a long time, I'm surprised it has only just come up."

  "Becca!" calls Mike. "Listen, I'm sorry. I thought you knew. I feel terrible."

  "It's fine. Mike. I'm out in two days anyways."

  "Well, all the best to you and your family" He nods.

  I force a smile and see the boys. "Boys… let's cool down at a movie theater. Does that sound good?"

  The boys look at each other. "Yeah!!"

  I would say anything at this point to get the kids out of this water park and away from the horror that I've just heard. I could use a cool dark place to think all of this through. A movie to distract the boys is just what I need. Good thing I packed a change of clothes in my bag. We hustle to the truck and open the door to a heatwave pouring out of the cab.

  "Mom, it's so hot."

  "I know, Connor. Let's get in and crank that air."

  The boys climb in, and I walk around to my door. Carol is running towards me from the community exit calling out my name. Starting the truck, I pop it in reverse right away. I hit the gas, not waiting for her to make it to the truck to tell me a single thing, especially in front of my kids. The nerve of her! She gets smaller and smaller in my rearview mirror as I leave her standing alone in the parking lot. This was my life, my nightmare, and she knew the entire time, clearly using our conversations as topics in her book club meetings.

  Chapter 18

  “What? That's crazy, Becca. The realtor would have told us!" Mitch snaps. He's not taking the news very well. "Everyone knew? Why the hell didn't they tell us?"

  "I don't know, Mitch, but shhh… please, don't wake the boys."

  "I'm pissed!"

  "I know. It says right here." I read off what my search on the computer brought up.

  "In Texas, a seller or agent has no duty to release information related to a death by natural causes, suicide or accident unrelated to the condition of the property." I look up at him.

  "So, what the hell does that mean? There could be a massive murder in this house, and no one needs to tell us? What happened to this boy? Becca, I would have never moved in here if I knew a child died in this house. A child!"

  "I know. I know. I honestly don't know the details, Mitch. I left as soon as they told me. I didn't really want to hear another thing about it. This really freaked me out."

  "Freaked you out? This is freaking me out. We have two more days in this house. How the hell am I supposed to sleep here knowing this now? Becca, I'm so sorry I didn't listen to you from the beginning about this. Why did they have to tell us now and not wait till we are out?"

  "It's okay babe, we can get through this."

  I'm looking up at him, agreeing with everything he's saying. This is really getting to him as he's pacing around the kitchen. Finally, everything has clicked for him, and now there is a build-up of concern in his eyes.

  "Okay, I don't want to talk about this until we are out of this house. Promise me, Becca. No talk of this until we are completely out."

  I nod. "Yes. I can do that."

  "Alright. I'm going to go for a nice evening swim, and I would love for you to join me. We won't have a pool for much longer and a swim and a soak sound like something we can enjoy right about now."

  "Sure. I'll meet you out there in a sec."

  Mitch grabs his swimsuit and heads outside after he changes.

  I look at the laptop screen in front of me. I type in the Google search engine:

  Death at 1220 Greenway Close Texas—Nothing comes up.

  Child dies in house at Greenway Close—Nothing comes up.

  Why can't I pull anything up? Just then, there's a small knock at the door. Looking up from the laptop, I stare at the front door. Pushing my chair from the table, I debate on ignoring the door or going to open it. I'll just answer it. Walking towards the door, I put my hand on the doorknob, and I look through the peephole. I see no one.

  I turn the door handle, opening the door slowly. No one is there, only the sound of the night bugs buzzing. Stepping out, I look around the yard, then the street, not seeing a single person. When I turn around to go back into the house, something bumps my feet. As I look down, there's a cut-up piece of paper under a rock. It's an article. The bold words on the top of the article read: CHILD DIES IN HOME IN OUR SMALL COMMUNITY.

  I sit on the front step of our porch with the article in my hand. The cool evening breeze gently touches me, giving off a refreshing boost of cool air in my lungs. It's all real now. The article in my hand reads:

  Jane Savannah, a mother of a young 7-year-old, found her son unresponsive a little after midnight last night. An ambulance was called to the 1200 block of Greenway Close, where a boy was taken to the hospital in cardiac arrest. He was pronounced dead later at SVH, where he died at 3:39 am. It's not known why the boy went into cardiac arrest and was unresponsive. An investigation is currently underway. Autopsy to be done later this week to determine the cause of death. At this time mother is not a suspect.

  That's it? This gives me nothing. I fold up the news article and take a deep breath releasing it as a sigh of loss and sadness. The pain that mother would have endured and the sorrow this house has felt… my eyes sting, glazing over with tears. What should I do? Two days left here; maybe I should just stop and push through. Just then, a branch snaps to my left. Startled, I looked over, trying to adjust to the darkness. There is a tall figure emerging from the yard.

  "Becca? It's me, Carol."

  Oh great, please, not now. She's walking right towards me, and I hate confrontation. If I get up, she'll just stop me anyways.

  "Becca, I feel like complete crap. I'm so sorry and completely understand if you don't want to talk to me," There's silence. I'm not answering because I'm not sure if I even want to listen either. "Just hear me out, give me five minutes."

  "Carol, you have five minutes and I have to go in." Carol sits down slowly next to me. Something is weighing heavy on her heart. She was such a great friend, and I will miss her, but she really did hurt me. I trusted her.

  "Becca, I moved into my house a year after Stephanie, the original home owner, did. She had a wonderful little boy and a great husband. Years past and eventually the husband left her. I didn't know why, but she was completely distraught. She withdrew from all of us and hid in this house. I would wave when I saw her and Ryan, her son, but she would smile and go straight in the house. I got it. She wanted her own space.”

  I look over at Carol and can see her eyes full of emotion. "One night, I was awakened by flashing red lights in my window. I looked out and saw the ambulance outside her house. I ran out as they were rushing Ryan out on a stretcher giving him oxygen. Stephanie was following right beside him and I asked what happened. She never said a thing and looked right through me. The next day, I didn't see anyone and tried knocking on the door many times, hoping to see both of them. We never saw them at all. Later, I found out Ryan passed away the night he was taken by ambulance and not one person knew why. I never saw Stephanie either after that. From what I understand, she was so taken over by so much grief that she stayed in the house and never left. She never returned my calls or answered the door. I'm sure she never ate, never did the lawn, never went to get groceries. It was like she vanished. We all speculated because all we heard was that Ryan died and we never knew what actually happened that night. He was such a sweet boy, but after his dad left he became angry, probably lashing out missing his father. Regardless, it was heartbreaking."

  "So… what happened? What did he die from? Most importantly why the hell didn't you say something as my
friend, Carol?" The tone in my voice is announcing the irritation.

  She sighs. "She stayed in this house until she was reported in the neighborhood for not taking care of her property. It was so dark, overgrown. Rats took over the house, the grass was dead and so high. Garbage bins left tipped over and litter on the driveway. No one knew what to do. We later heard from word of mouth that Ryan died from Long QT Syndrome, but that was never confirmed. I think it's a rare condition in which he apparently would never have any symptoms until it was too late. The house grew such a sad emptiness and carried such unresolved anger too. Eventually, I'm assuming, her family stepped in and came to get her. When they put the house up for sale and packed up her belongings, she was manic. I saw her leaving with her parents I think; she looked unrecognizable. Frail, pale, lost about 50 pounds and looked ill. She kept screaming because she didn't want to leave her house. According to her, Ryan was still in the house and he would need her. It was heartbreaking watching this."

  "That's horrible." I couldn't even imagine all her pain she felt.

  "When the house sold, we were told by the new buyers that the whole house needed to be gutted. Carpet, walls, the entire inside had rotted away and full of rodent activity and mold. One day, I was watering the flowers in my front yard and out of nowhere walked up Stephanie next door. She had no emotion on her face and walked almost zombie-like to her front steps, she must have been medicated. She couldn't get back in the house because the locks had been changed by the new home owners while the renovations were happening. I'm assuming she just wanted the house that was once hers."

  I'm staring at Carol in anticipation.

  "I walked up to her almost uneasy, not sure if she was okay. I kept calling out for her, but she completely ignored me. Stephanie smashed her hand through the window by the door and unlocked the front door herself. There was blood everywhere; I had to call 911 for help. I never went inside the house to get her, I was too scared. I just let the professionals take care of it, and clearly she need professional help. They arrived a short time after and I guess she was talking to someone in the house, but no one was there. She stepped out of the house covered in her own blood and was so angry and aggressive at everyone in the yard. She kept saying she wanted to be left alone with her son, yelling at the cops to leave. No one could get close to her because she had picked up a shard of glass from the window and would wave it at everyone who came close enough."