Letters in the Attic

by Talea Botha

  A car pulled up beside us a while later, and asked us if we needed help. We managed to catch a ride back to the gas station where we’d filled up before, and Ian filled the container the driver had in his car with enough gas to get us back to the same station. When we finally got back to our car, we thanked the man.

  Two hours later, the skyline of San Diego appeared in the distance, and I felt excited about finally getting home. I loved travelling, and finding out about Nicolo wasn’t so bad after all. I stole a glance at Ian, who looked out of the window looking worried. It must be about his brother, I understood now. He was suddenly attractive, like someone I’d never seen before, and I tried not to look like I was staring. But something inside of me had changed toward him, and when we finally turned down my street I realized I didn’t want him to go home, I wanted to spend more time with this man I’d suddenly discovered.

  I frowned as we pulled up to my house. There was a van on the lawn, and two young guys were smoking outside, while a third was closing the back doors of the van. Ian swore under his breath and jumped out of the car before I’d come to a full stop. He ran over the lawn and grabbed the taller guy by his collar, shaking him. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the other two jumped in the van and drove away, leaving their comrade behind. Slowly I opened the door and stepped out, staying next to the car. I didn’t know what was going on, but something told me there was more to it that I didn’t understand.

  “…and since when have you been smoking?” Ian’s voice echoed through the street.

  “Look, I’m sorry okay, I tried. They’re gone now, its’ all gone, we got it done.” The kid was wailing and Ian stopped shaking. He rubbed his face with one hand, his other on his hip.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, stepping forward. They both looked at me, and I was startled to see that Ian looked guiltier than the kid did.

  With a subdued tone he introduced the kid to me as his brother, Will, and he explained to me what they were doing there. I looked from Ian to the kid and noticed the family resemblance. As it started to dawn on me, I was at first shocked, and then I became angry. I thought of him appearing like he was sent, on my pavement the morning we left. He was worried and distracted the whole trip, but he made the effort to be there for me and help me out, and it was just a cover, all of it was a lie, so that his brother could steal and get away with it. He’ used me, used my house, he didn’t care about me or what happened to me at all. I felt betrayed. Betrayed, and furious.

  “You’re just as bad as them!” I shouted at him, tears streaming down my cheeks.

  “No, Serena, please, it’s not the same—“

  “You lie just the same, and it makes you no better. Get off my lawn, get out of my sight!”

  Ian tried to explain but I turned away, my anger threatening to take over my body. He stopped trying, and I heard them walk away. When I turned a moment later, they were almost out of sight.

  “If I find anything out of place,” I shouted after them, “I’m calling the police!”

  But I knew I wouldn’t. I couldn’t, after what Ian had told me.

  I was angry. I was so angry, I worked. I worked on that house, until it sparkled and gleamed. The rooms were transformed almost overnight as I tackled them one by one, and didn’t stop until they were finished, or until I was.

  I fought with myself every time his face popped into my mind. I fought with him, saying a million things to him in my mind, giving him a piece of what he deserved, telling him what a low life he was. I put the letters back in the attic, where they belonged, heavy with added pain, and I shut the attic door, knowing I wouldn’t ever open it again. It was a tomb for lost love, just as Cathy and Elsa had intended.

  Then, slowly, my anger started to subside. Other things crept in instead. I found, to my despair, that I couldn’t stop thinking of Ian, and sometimes when I did I wasn’t as angry as I was trying to be. I thought back to the time we spent together in Phoenix. I could picture his square shoulders as he asked someone for directions, his neat, almost proper manner even when he was stretched out on a bed, his collected calm even when his whole world was threatening to collapse around him. I saw the way his mouth curled when he was amused at something I said, I saw the way his eyes rolled when the drama became too much for his monochromatic heart to bear. I felt the stability that emanated from him. I wanted that, the stability that defined him. I could still recall how it felt in the car, even when we’d run out of gas in the middle of nowhere; he’d been so collected it was impossible to be scared. He was such a pillar. And his hands… soft and warm on my cheek and the small of my back that night when hes somehow read my mind and kissed me.

  What would I have done, if I were in his shoes? How would I have handled it? I didn’t have any siblings, I didn’t understand what it was like to want to protect them at all cost. But I knew how I felt about Reggie, and I knew what it would do to me if I’d lost my parents. Was that almost the same? Had I been too hard on him for something anyone would do?

  I picked up the phone, and called Reggie.

  “How did you know Gerald was what you wanted?” I asked, hoping she would understand what I meant. Gerald was the opposite of everything Reggie had always wanted in a man, in the same way Ian was to me.

  “I don’t know, I just knew, I guess. He was frightfully regular, wasn’t he? It all seems crazy, but that’s what I needed in the end. Our lives tend to be a little chaotic, doesn’t it? He just ended up being a steady foundation, and I couldn’t let him move on to be someone else’s strength instead of mine. I regret loving him, sometimes, but I can’t stop. Why do you ask?”

  “I was just trying to decide how much color my life really needed,” I said, and hung up. Then, still scolding myself, I dialed the number to the real estate offices.

  ‘’Ian? Hey… it’s me. Do you… would you like to come over? For dinner, maybe?” I hesitated, “I miss you.”

  I heard him sigh on the other end of the line, like he’d finally let go of all the tension he’d held inside. There was a moment of silence on the other end, and I imagined him closing his eyes, the way he did when he tried to deal with something deep going on inside of him. I smiled at the thought, and bit my lip. Finally he spoke.

  “I’d love to.”