Chapter Three

It’s funny what kind of security a person can get from an inanimate object. John finds himself sitting in Elisabeth’s old bedroom often, much the same as he is right now, holding Abby doll in his hands. He vividly remembers that moment when Elisabeth skinned her knee and chose him over her mother. That moment was the best of the best of times for the family. At least how he remembers it.

Elisabeth’s room looks much the same way as she left it, although a little cleaner. He smiles as he remembers how Elisabeth always had clothes strewn about the floor or compacted tightly into her hamper. Other than that, she was very neat and tidy. The same can’t be said for the rest of the house, however.

John walks through the house and looks around. Dust has accumulated on everything. Thick layers of dust. The house appears as if it hasn’t been cared for at all. He looks at the corners where the walls meet the ceiling and he sees cobwebs. He looks at the furniture and he sees imprints of the same few spots that he sits most nights and the fabric has become worn. He looks at the floor and sees tiny speckles of dirt and filth. He becomes curious and moves the coffee table to a new spot in the room to find the carpet that it covered is at least six shades brighter.

“How have I not noticed this before?” He thinks to himself.

He walks to the kitchen and sees piles of dishes in his sink, and he remembers how he always just washes what he needs when he uses it and then throws it back in the sink. He can’t remember the last time he ran the dishwasher. Trash is piled across the counter because the garbage can by the fridge is full, and he hasn’t taken time to take it out. Most times he forgets when trash day is and it piles for several weeks before he takes five or six bags to the curb. He heads for the garage and finds exactly that. Six bags of trash are sitting in the corner waiting to be placed on the curb yet they have clearly sat there for weeks.

“What day is trash day again?”

He pushes the button for the garage door and the chain slowly pulls it up to the top squeaking the entire time. He walks out to the end of the driveway and looks at the house. It’s nothing like he remembers. The siding is faded to a dingy brown, and the roof has pieces of shingles curling and removed. The shrubs on each side of the house are overgrown, so overgrown that the sidewalk around to the back of the house is inaccessible. The grass is long and patching, big chunks of light putrid yellow. The maple tree in the center of the yard looks half dead. Many of the limbs are no longer bearing leaves and much of the bark is missing. What really shakes him is the garden and the swing that he remembers so vividly from that day. The once beautiful swing that Chelsea used to love to sit and read in during the Fall is rusted and half resting on the ground. One of the links rusted through. The pad that sat on the swing which should have been stored during inclimate weather, now sits on the swing covered in mildew. And the garden…oh the beautiful garden. What used to be covered with colorful flowers and green plants is now a wasteland of weeds. Ugly, hideous weeds had sprouted everywhere throughout and some grew tall to his waist. Many of the rocks that surrounded the garden are gone. Even the one that Elisabeth scraped her knee on so many years ago is no longer there.

A fire begins to burn inside of him and he wonders how he could have let things get so bad? He curses himself for not seeing it before. And what about the neighbors? How have they been able to tolerate this atrocity? He assumes because of what his family had been through that they let him be. He thinks hard to himself standing there in front of the garden and can’t even recall if the same neighbors are even still his neighbors? It doesn’t matter now. He decided a few days ago when he wrote that letter to Elisabeth that he was going to clean up his act, and the fact that she responded, as hurtful as it was, he wasn’t going to let this stop him now. He gathers his thoughts and heads back for the garage when he spots from the corner of his eye a familiar car coming down the road. He hasn’t seen this car in years, but here it comes. Is this coincidence? He turns around back towards the road and stands there as the car pulls into the driveway. Abby gets out.

She shuts her car door and walks up within a few feet of him while neither of them speaks a word and Abby sighs a loud. They stand there looking at each other for a few seconds before Abby speaks.

“Hi, John,” She says.

“How are you, Abby? You look good.”

“Thanks, I’m fine. I wish I could say the same for you.” Abby had always spoken her mind to John. He still isn’t sure if he likes that about her, but she does look good, and he knows she’s right about him. Abby wasn’t quite as beautiful as Chelsea, at least to John, but she was still a pretty woman. She has many of the same features as Chelsea, but more understated. Brown hair, slender body, nice eyes, and she always dressed well. She stood in front of John now with her hands crossed on her chest waiting for him to say something back.

“I know I don’t look that great,” he finally states back to her. “But I’m making a change. I’m trying, Abby.”

“I can see that,” she sarcastically shoots back at him.

“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at work?”

“It’s Saturday, John. I don’t work on the weekends. I’m a nine-to-fiver and I have been for a long time. I stopped by to see how you’re doing. I haven’t heard from you for a long time and I was worried about you, ok?” John feels like a putz, and he realizes that now he’s even started to forget what day it is. What a mess.

“I’m sorry.”

“John, it’s noon. You’re still in your pajamas. What’s the matter…”

“Enough! What are you, my mother? I told you I’m trying to make some changes, but I’m just starting. I’m feeling better about things. I know how this all looks. It will be better soon, ok?” Abby stares at him for a moment and then looks at her shoes. Then back at him.

“Ok. I’ll stop worrying about you. I just hope you mean it, John. I hate seeing you like this.” She pauses for a moment, deeply thinking about what to say next. “Why don’t you clean yourself up? Take a shower. Shave. Put on some real clothes. Come have dinner with Kevin and me tonight. It might do you some good to get out of the house for a change.” She knows the answer before he even responds.

“I’ll think about it. I have a lot of work to do around here.”

“I’ll say” she thinks to herself. “Do what you want, but you know it’s a standing offer. Anytime you’re interested.”

“Thanks.”

“Ok. Bye then, John. And…take care of yourself.”

“Bye.”

Abby turns away from John and starts walking back to her car. She opens her door and with one leg in the car John yells out to her.

“I wrote Elisabeth a letter, Abby. I found her.”

Abby freezes. She looks at John in disbelief and tries to say something. Nothing comes out of her mouth.