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‘A recently renovated three bedroom, three bath open concept cape-cod walk up with attached two car garage, green house, in ground pool, and scenic view of the bay.’ the listing had begun, a tempting offer to be sure ‘close to schools, shopping and on major transit lines, perfect for the urban professional, or family seeking a fresh start…’
she stood before the home together looking up at it. The realtor talking to her husband laying out the final details of the sale. They had gotten the property for half a song from a foreclosure auction, the remnants of the housing crunch. Apparently the chance to move further into the city had been too much for Kurt to pass up. Sometimes she hated his overt practicality. But there were instances, such as this new, beautiful home, that Lisa could allow such a quality to fall to the side. They had purchased the home sight unseen and now as the three moved up the stairs to the front door she felt a strange chill about her. Perhaps it was the October air, the leaves around them beginning to burn a motley orange red and gold, or the excitement of finally saying the house was theirs, none the less as they crossed the threshold she could feel something vague about the home, as if the building itself were holding it‘s breath.
The tour seemed a passing dream as each room opened upon the other with a natural ease. From the grand master suite, to the fully finished basement the home had been perfect, even the colouring of the home seemed to suit the family. Jennifer’s room was a fairy-princess pink, Rory’s a sage green. The office area for Kurt was a topaz brown, and her favourite option the green house was still in full bloom. Whoever had kept it before Lisa certainly knew their way around a garden.
“Here’s to the first of many changes.” Kurt said standing in the front hall with Lisa, he leaned in and kissed her lovingly.
The move in process had been easy, their geometric modern furniture suited this new home far better it seemed to the cramped-yet-cozy bungalow they had left behind in the addled mire of suburbia. In this new home the family could spread themselves out, yet there was no sense of isolation. A perfect balance that Lisa grew to love over the next few days.
She stood in the mirror checking herself over as she curled her blonde hair in the morning. She had a meeting with a client to discuss the latest marketing campaign for a new line of soft drinks. She spoke the new slogan aloud to herself testing once again how it sounded “Carlsbad Cola; Fall into the Flavour Hole.” that was the slogan the client had liked best. And although there was plenty of room for parody, she would do nothing to stop the client from their decision. Sometimes people had to make their own mistakes.
She slid the iron out from the coiled hair checking how it dangled near her eyes, they were a heady green flaked with brown. She reached for her glasses, and instead fumbled with the curling iron almost dropping the hot rod onto the floor. She reached out to catch the falling item as a reaction and for her trouble burned her hand.
“Ow! Holy F-uh!” biting back the swear she dropped the item again plunging her hand under the nozzle of the sink running cold water over it. This wasn’t the first time she had done that, she scolded herself mentally. And doubted it would be the last.
Kurt opened the bathroom door and poked his head in “Hun? Are you okay?” he asked slipping in
“I dropped the curling iron again. You’d think I’d learn by now.” she pouted holding her hand up for him to kiss.
He gently brushed his lips over her hand the tickle of his dark moustache making the burn feel all the more alien. He was a handsome man, mature looking with his dark hair going grey at thirty, the silvered hair waging a war from his temples and spreading upwards. He picked up her glasses and held them to his own brown eyes and teased “Maybe wearing these would help cut down on that.” he slid them onto her face with careful ease. “Otherwise people will start to think I beat ya.” he kissed the side of her neck.
“I doubt you’d stand the chance.” she was a blue belt in judo having taken up the sport in university both as self defence and to break up the monotony of business lectures. Kurt on the other hand had been attending on a rugby scholarship, until an injury to his back had taken him permanently out of the athletic field. He worked as a sports reporter, and his athletic body had begun to melt into that of a couch potato around the time of their second child, Rory’s birth.
Outside the dog began to bark at the back door wanting to come back inside. Kurt removed his arms from around her and headed down through the house to let the dog in. Roscoe was a Border collie, Newfoundland cross that gave him the exact same proportions of a couch Jennifer would joke. He was seven years old. And quite active loving nothing more than games of fetch and laying in the sun. the dog moved to their bowl and seeing that it was empty turned his eyes to Kurt hopefully.
Into the Kitchen burst Jennifer; twelve years old and bursting with energy for the day. She was wearing her soccer uniform, ready for the morning practice before classes. Like a one-girl plague of locusts she descended upon the table with the morning offering; eggs and pancakes of Kurt’s making. Then like a flash she was gone out the door her braided dark hair whipping behind to catch the bus.
Rory entered more tentatively, dragging a ratty security blanket behind him his three year old thumb in his mouth. He approached his father and lifted his arms asking for Ups. He had had a dry night before, which had been a relief for all involved. Kurt carried him about the kitchen for a moment before seating the boy at the table to help him get ready for the day at the neighbours for babysitting.
Lisa descended the stairs now dressed in her favorite business suit, she was still nursing her burnt hand. She stopped on her way to the coffee maker to kiss her son on the head and check with Kurt on the days plans. He had a meeting of his own with the editor to talk about getting his own column instead of just ghost-writing the scores under his supervisor’s title. It would be about time she had agreed.
She picked up the coffee mug ready to drink when a small headache overtook her. Lisa pushed her wrist against left eye out of habit as if it would cure the pain, and it passed as soon as it had kicked up. Relieved she raised her mug again and took a sip. Then lowering the mug she looked inside; It wasn’t her usual brew of Coffee with milk and sugar that she had been so looking forward to, instead it was green tea, sweetened with honey.
“Are we out of coffee?” she asked over her shoulder to Kurt, he looked back at her.
“Isn’t that what I poured, or did you grab mine instead?” he asked helping Rory to finish his meal.
“This would be tea.” she swirled her mug.
“Then that would be mine.” He looked up at the clock. “And we have got to go.” he scooped up the boy making him squeal. Rushing out of the kitchen to the neighbours the men left Lisa alone in the home.
She set to work cleaning up breakfast finishing off the meal before she noticed something was off. She couldn’t place why but it felt as though something were different. Collecting the cereal bowls she stacked them in the dishwasher the last of the oatmeal clinging to the sides.
The meeting had gone swimmingly. With a last few tweaks to the presentation they had gotten the final green light on the advertising campaign, soon the country would be awash in radio, print, television, and banner ads bombarding the audience for the soda. Personally Lisa thought it tasted of refurbished factory run-off of a competitors brand, but the pay-check ruled her more mercantile needs. She had a family to look after, and every drop in the bucket helped. Even if the task today had given her another tense headache.
Walking out to her parking space she noticed something off. Not only was her sable gone from her personalized spot, but someone had parked a jeep in there. Taking a breath she assumed the valet had made a mistake and thumbed the lock button on her keys twice. The jeeps lights blinked and the horn tooted once. She looked around and tried again getting the same result. The sound certainly wasn’t helping her aching head. She looked around for the car and in time spotted it. The trusty jeep waiting in her personalized space. She unlocked it and drove home.
When she arrived home there stood Kurt with two flutes of champagne he held one out when she climbed the front stairs “Do I say congratulations, or better luck next time?” he asked clinking the glasses.
“Tomorrow, at 4:15 we go to air.” she clinked his glass back. “And what did the editor say?”
“As of next Monday you’ll be sleeping with a fully fledged column journalist.” he grinned proudly.
“Oh? So what’s his name?” she joked moving past him into the house. He playfully swatted her rump with the paper.
After a dinner of Stir-fry and egg noodles, her favourite Lisa took to the greenhouse to tend to the plants. The air smelled so fresh and humid in the small space, and what she liked best was that from this room she had a full view of the back yard where Jennifer and Rory were playing with the dog. As the dog bounded after the ball and pranced back she began to wonder about what the next job would be. And hoped that she hadn’t burned herself out on the soda campaign. Maybe that’s what the headaches were trying to tell her.
That had always been her worry, both professionally and through her schooling, what if she burned out and that was all. She had drive and passion, but with it came the nagging insecurity. Next! Bigger! More! Next! Bigger! More! It made her sick, it made her crave another wonderful smoke. Though Kurt made her promise when she had found out she was pregnant the first time to give up the habit. There was that damn practicality again.
She took a deep breath and drank from her Mojito. The delicate mix of mint and lime felt soothing. Kurt could certainly mix a brew when he wasn’t in the kitchen. She returned her focus to the children in the yard, watching Rory try to throw the slobbered tennis ball while keeping a firm grip on his security blanket. Surrendering the smokes had had it’s advantages.
She opened the door and walked outside, Kurt was doing laps in the pool while supervising the children; the one bit of exercise he both enjoyed and didn’t strain his trick back. When he did so he used his arms letting his legs trail behind to put in minimal work. She took a seat on a lounger near him. Putting her hand to her forehead when the sun stung her eyes. “Kurt, Who’s that dog?” she asked looking across the lawn as a Terrier picked up Roscoe’s ball to join in the children’s game. The larger dog was nowhere in sight.
Bellying up to the poolside he too looked. “That’s Roscoe hun. I think you’ve had quite enough of this,” he stole her drink taking a deep drag of it himself.
“Roscoe’s bigger.” she asserted, getting ready to stand up. “He’s not one a terrier.”
“Hun, I brought roscoe home. He’s always been that size. You told me you didn’t want a big dog because of Rory.” he sounded worried as she got to her feet. he pushed himself out of the water and tried to catch her hand again. Lisa was already calling for the children to come away from the animal and get them inside. Kurt looked at her worried.
That night when Lisa had gone to bed Kurt called a local doctor worried about the incident. Though it came as little relief when the doctor assumed it was stress, but an appointment was made for Monday to get a proper examination done. He looked through the glass doors out at Roscoe, the small dog pawed and whimpered wanting inside. They licked their nose little puffs of steam rising into the night air. Kurt put his finger to his lips and brought the dog inside. Roscoe curled up on the couch ready to sleep.
The next morning under Kurt’s advice Lisa stayed home from work. ‘A well earned rest’ he had called it, deciding to down-play the incident from the day before. She sat in her housecoat and night gown on the couch armed with coffee to stay awake and Tylenol for her headaches one of which was in full swing. She kept watch over Rory as he sat at the coffee table drawing pictures in crayon. He picked up his cup of juice and took a deep drink. Apparently drawing pictures of cats was thirsty work. She smiled at the boy and stood hearing the toaster pop.
Making her way into the kitchen she took out the four slices and coated them all in thick raspberry jam. Turning to take the food back into the living room she froze. The way to the room had been walled off completely it was as if the house itself had swallowed up the wide archway.
“Rory?!” she screamed dropping the plates and ran into the living room. To her horror she found the room neatly organized. Gone were the crayons splayed about with youthful energy, the half-drawn picture of cat was replaced with a stack of home-décor magazines, it was as If the home had folded over itself and consumed the child. She screamed for him again running through the home but found no trace, the pool was empty, the back yard devoid of life except for the terrier, she ran upstairs to his room, instead of the child’s mess the room was filled with Kurt’s office furniture. Rushing to the phone she called for the police.
Was called from work he came home in a hurry to find his wife once again talking to the officers as she gave out yet another physical description of the small boy, she was sobbing, and he moved to comfort her. He held back when answering questions as not to upset her further. But when he was taken aside by the officer he explained.
“She’s been rather stressed the past few days. She didn’t even recognize our dog last night. We’ve made an appointment for Monday to get her checked out.” he explained though he seemed worried.
“Still, we’re going to keep looking.” the officer flipped through the pad and made a few more notes. Missing children was something they always took seriously. And at the moment it seemed suspicious that the mother was so upset, and the father was claiming her to be having a mental health issue.
Eventually after checking and double checking her story the police left. She had moved from the Living room to the dining room table where she sat shivering. How had it happened? The sudden appearance of the wall, and the subtraction of their child. She looked up at the offending architecture with an incomplete portrait of the family. The sincere faces sneering at her, only three people and that little shitty dog.
Sitting at the table her husband spoke to Lisa quietly. “Honey, I think you need help we never had a son we-”
“Shove it Kurt.” She snapped. “I would ******** well know if I had another god-damn child!” she slammed her hands on the table screaming at him hot tears coursing down her face. “We have a son! His name is Rory!” the man drew back and asked.
“Then what happened to him.
“The house!” she sobbed from between her hands. “It’s the house! It took him!”
“Where?” he shouted back getting angry with her. Grabbing her wrists firmly in his hands he pulled them away from her face. She stared at him bug-eyed for a moment and fled running to their bedroom feeling frustrated that she wasn’t believed.
That night he didn’t come to bed. She lay awake waiting for him, wishing for his comforting body to lay against her own. She tired to remember how it was in their old home. Sure it had been too small for the three of them. No. four of them ‘Keep your head in the game Lisa’ she scolded herself. ‘Focus!’ the red bungalow with the clapboard sides, where they had spent twelve years and raised a beautiful daughter and -son-. She emphasised the word in her own head. Through Christmases, birthdays, fights, groundings the four of them had been together. Sure the house had been cramped, but it had also been cozy. They could always know where each other was. She tried to picture the last movie night of the four of them in the little living room. Jennifer on the floor, Kurt next to her, Where had Rory sat? she couldn’t remember and the lack of detail sickened her. The one absence spiralled out and blurred the rest of the memory. She began to cry again.
The door opened eventually. It was Jennifer. The young girl climbed into bed with her mother cuddling into the woman when she rolled over to embrace her child. In the dark she clung to the girl as if by letting go all of reality would be pulled out from under her. In the sickly pale morning light she opened her eyes looking down at her daughter in the bed next to her she bolted from the bed. Instead of the golden haired twelve year old lay the sprawled out body of a sixteen year old. Her purple and black hair covering most of her face. When disturbed from slumber by the absence of the woman’s warmth the girl sat up.
“Mom? What’s wrong?” she asked watching the terrified woman withdraw from the bedside raise her hands to her mouth in silent horror and flee the room.
Another stranger met Lisa on the stairs, a handsome man, his dark skin paired quizzically with dyed blonde hair for a beach-babe look. He caught her in his arms as she nearly stumbled down the stairs. “Honey? What’s wrong?”
“Who the hell are you?! Where’s Kurt!” she tried to push the man away but he held strong.
“Madeline? Who’s Kurt? What’s the matter?” the man asked worried about his wife.
“My name is not Madeline! It’s Lisa!” she Kicked out from his hold, nearly going with him as the man tumbled down the stairs. She ran past him towards the door, but found only a solid wall where she had thought it to be. Frightened, confused, and upset Lisa withdrew into the bathroom, the window was open, she’d leap out into the garden if she had to, locking the door after her she clawed over the washing machine, and pushed aside the screen.
The man pushed himself from the floor his body hurt but he could still move. He made his way through the house and pulling open the unlocked bathroom door poked his head in.
“Madeline? Are you ready?” he asked looking at the dark haired woman as she finished with the mirror her green eyes highlighted with dark red eye shadow.
She turned to him and smiled. “Ready. You have the concert tickets right?”
Toli Bera Community Member 
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