"You know, you could have told us," my mother scolded me once I was out of the attorney's office and back in her car.
"Yeah. But I didn't want either of you to influence my decision," I replied.
She sighed deeply before she took off. Not back home, but to my grandparents' house. The drive over here had been long, and after I had told her not to check into any hotels, I couldn't avoid telling her why she shouldn't. So I had told her everything. Two seconds before I got out of the car, so as not to give her time to talk sense into me.
"Well, I guess it's a good thing. Maybe that's what you need. Change of scenery, a little financial padding, a place to stay…"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Your father and I were talking, and you know… He's losing his patience. We said he'll give you an ultimatum. Either find a job by the end of the week or he kicks you out."
"You would let him?"
"Darling… You know I love you, but he's right, you know? You're locked up in your room most of the time, you barely go outside, you dropped out of college, you have no job… I can't shelter you forever."
"No, but you could support me in finding help," I mumbled. Same old story, over and over again.
"Eli… There is nothing wrong with you. You just need motivation." She smiled at me.
I sighed and decided to drop it. She wouldn't help me. Sure, I didn't doubt she loved me, but she didn't take my struggles seriously. So what could I do? In her eyes, a little prayer, enough sunlight, and a job would heal me right back up to a perfectly functioning human.
If it were that easy.
The rest of the ride, we didn't speak at all. Only once my mom pulled into the driveway of the little suburban house did she speak back up. "It hasn't changed at all."
For a moment, we just sat in the car, looking at this house that seemed so old it felt unreal.
"How old is this house exactly?" I asked.
My mom shrugged. "Ma used to tell me it's over 300 years old and had a big makeover in the Victorian era. She was always proud to say that it was 'the first house ever built in this town'."
"Sounds like her," I chuckled.
"It does, doesn't it? Even when I was still a child, this place felt like something out of a fairytale. Something that shouldn't be here, but persisted anyway."
I looked at her, and for the first time, I could see the grief on her face. She tried to smile through it, reminiscing in memories, but there it was. That subtle sadness. The realization that nothing would ever be the way it used to be.
"The garden always seemed bigger than it was. Ma used to complain a lot about how more and more houses were built around them, and how they lost acres of land because of it. But whenever I stepped into the garden, I felt like there was nothing around me. Just… green scenery."
I smiled faintly. She was going through some memories, and I let her. Since my parents went no contact with my grandparents, she hasn't talked about them at all. So now that she did, I let her.
"Though it also felt isolating at times. Especially when I was your age, I felt trapped. There was nothing to do here – no clubs, no discos, not even a bar to visit. I moved out for college and never came back. I think… She blamed me for it for the longest time. Probably even up to her last breath."
She furrowed her eyebrows before she shook her head and opened the door. "Come on, it's not getting any earlier. Let's see if the electricity and water are still running."
I wanted to ask her, but I didn't. Instead, I nodded and got out of the car myself. I had a backpack with me for the night, while my mom had everything she needed in her bag.
It felt weird holding the keychain to this place in my hands, knowing it was mine now. I hesitated once we reached the front door. This was real, but what was even more real was that no one would greet us once I opened the door.
My grandma wouldn't greet me; my grandpa wouldn't hop down the stairs like he used to. It would just be silence. And I needed a moment to prepare for it. And still, once I turned the key and opened the door, that devastating silence hit me hard. And it hit my mom even more.
I heard her sniffle next to me, and when I stole a glance at her, I could see how she was fighting back tears. She pressed her lips together before she took a deep breath and entered the house. The floor creaked under our feet, the curtains rustled in the wind sweeping through the open door, and dried flowers filled the air with the smell of yarrow.
There was a hint of life in this abandoned place, and I couldn't really tell why. Though the places looked rundown. Not as badly as one might assume, but my grandparents were old, they probably couldn't find the energy anymore to upkeep the place in the past years.
"I must admit, everything does kind of seem old." I finally broke my silence… Our silence.
"Yeah. I don't know if 300-years-old but even if my ma was over exaggerating, I don't doubt this house is older than the average house. Come. I show you around. The house has a generator, and I bet the water is turned off."
And that's exactly what she did. She showed me where to turn on the water and where the generator was located. It was not what I was expecting. I was expecting a small, red generator, as they are usually shown in movies. But this was a huge ass tank, most of which was buried with only the most important things above ground, located in its own little shed.
"It's still pretty full," Mom said while she showed me the gauge to check the propane level. "This is the switch." She pointed at the switch, which was currently pointing to OFF. "If you turn it to AUTO, the generator will automatically start if the power fails for whatever reason. If it's OFF, it won't start at all. If you ever leave for a longer time, you should turn it OFF or else it could turn on and burn through the fuel for no reason."
She switched it to AUTO, and the whole thing came to life – loudly so. No wonder. My parents had requested that the company shut off the electricity after my grandparents had died.
"Once the electricity is back up and running, try not to use the generator too often. Electricity bills are cheaper than refilling the tank."
"How do I refill it, though?" I asked and was searching for anything that looked like it was meant to be opened or something similar.
"You call the company. They'll come over and refill it. Back in the days, it was ProMason, but I don't know if that company is still around. I'm sure Ma kept some notes somewhere. And if not, you can always check the phonebook."
I just nodded and let her show me the essentials. There was even a small bunker in the basement. I wasn't too familiar with this region, but Mom told me that her parents often feared floods and tornadoes. Though nothing had ever struck as far as she could remember.
The pantry of the kitchen was empty, but the bunker was fully stocked. Gallons of water, shelves full of toilet paper, stockpiled canned food, bedrolls, emergency clothes, flashlights, batteries, boxes of candles, an array of tools that have never been used – everything. And there was still enough room to house 10 people effortlessly, with bunk beds and a functioning little bathroom.
It felt like my grandparents were terrified of something far worse than just a flood or tornadoes. This whole bunker felt like they were afraid of something world-ending. And maybe they were.
Mom had gone awfully quiet while we were down there, just taking it all in before she checked the canned food and grabbed something that could be turned into food for tonight. And that's how we spent our evening. Barely talking, in the silence of the house, before we retreated to the guestroom.
We made the two beds before we both fell asleep. Neither of us wanted to address what was hanging heavily over our heads.
And maybe… Maybe that was for the better.