Someone was driving the car. He didn’t even know who it was. Just some person. Some person with some badge and some papers and a briefcase. A person who smelled like pine trees. Must have been a man.
He had come to their house on 42nd street and knocked. It was the knock that had finally stopped his parents from screaming at each other. His mom had thrown something – a plate maybe – at his dad. And he had thrown something back. That’s all he could remember. All of it.
But it wouldn’t leave his head.
And now he watched the houses flip past outside – one after another – house, house, house.
“We’re almost there,” the man said.
Cassian didn’t say anything back.
The wagon stopped in front of a two story, oldish looking house with a huge tree in the front yard. An old VolkWagen bug car sat in the driveway – red, and fading fast to dull pink. The light was on in the front window, and Cassian saw a shadow jump up and ran past.
And then the feeling hit him. A strange feeling – tingling deep inside of his stomach – twisting and twisting over.
The man got out of the car, and Cassian pulled on the door handle and stepped onto the sidewalk.
“This is it.”
The front door opened and a frumpy woman, probably not any taller than Cassian himself stood in the door frame. She had a long skirt on that went down to her ankles, and even inside the house, she was wearing big brown shoes – the super thick kind that wrapped around feet. And she had a turtleneck that went up to her chin. A pair of big round glasses sat on the end of her nose.
“Cassian?” The man pushed him forward. “Let’s get out of the rain. Come on.”
They hurried up to the door and the woman waved them inside.
The woman smiled at Cassian and then turned to look up the large staircase slammed against the wall. “Sara! He’s here! Hurry and come down!” She turned back to Cassian and held out a hand. “I’m actually your Aunt Ida. Strange isn’t it? We’ve never even gotten to meet or anything, but, well, here I am!”
The man held up his briefcase. “Ma’am, if you don’t mind, I do have some papers we should go over. And you’ll need to sign.”
“Right, right, of course. Make yourself at home, Cassian. I’ll be right back.” She held her open hand toward the living room just down the hall. “This way, Sir.”
The man went with Aunt Ida down the hallway and into the living room.
Cassian heard their footsteps echo down the wood-paneled hallway. He stepped forward and saw a wall full of pictures on his left. The pictures had all sorts of people in it, and he assumed they must be related to Aunt Ida somehow. Maybe they were even related to him – if Aunt Ida was really a relative.
“Welcome to the house.”
Cassian jumped around and saw a girl standing behind him, her hands on her hips. She looked like she was a few years older than him, and she was wearing a pink sweater and stone-washed jeans. She was even chewing bubble-gum.
“I’m Sara.” She held up her hand for a high-five.
He stared at the hand.
“Uh... okay...” Sara lowered her hand back to her hip. “So... you’re Cassian, right?”
He nodded.
“Well... do you talk... or can you not talk?” Sara tilted her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “We had one kid here once who couldn’t even talk. It drove me crazy because he was always like staring at us and everything. And if you end up being like that kid...” she shivered. “I just couldn’t handle it, okay? So please... for the love of all that is sacred in this world... say something!”
Cassian smirked. Just a little. “Okay.”
Sara sighed with relief. “Oh good. All right. Let me show you where you’re going to sleep and everything, and then Aunt Ida wants to give you food or something. You hungry?”
“Not really.”
“Well, come on then.” Sara turned and climbed up the stairs. Cassian followed right behind her, the sounds of talking in the living room fading out. There was a landing at the top of the stairs, and a railway that overlooked the entryway. A hallway curved in either direction from them, and Sara turn to the right and started walking right up to a door on the far end. She pushed it open.
Cassian stepped into a small room with a window that face the front street. Rain still pelted down outside, and now it was getting dark enough that the streetlamps could flicker on. Right next to the window sat a bed with a blue sheet over the top. A nightstand stood next to that with an old fashioned lamp with a wicker top on it.
Sara flicked on the lamp. “Yeah, it’s not much, but it’s a bed to sleep on for sure.”
“Who are you exactly?” Cassian asked.
“Sara. Remember? You don’t have amnesia or something do you?”
Cassian shook his head. “No. But who is Aunt Ida? Is she really my aunt?”
Sara twisted her lips to the side. “Um... not actually sure on that one. But if she is your aunt, then you are my cousin for sure.” She moved back over to the door. “So you wanna get something to eat or... no?”
“No thanks... I think I just wanna go to sleep.”
“It’s not even 7:00 yet... are you sure?”
Cassian nodded. “Yeah. I...” He almost thought about trying to explain everything to Sara, but then he realized just how complicated that would really be. It just wouldn’t work. “I just want to sleep.”
“All right, see you tomorrow morning, then.” Sara went out and shut the door.
Rain blasted against the window and Cassian crossed over to it and looked outside. He looked out above the tops of the houses and saw a snowy mountain in the distance. He tried to remember what it was called... but couldn’t.
His gaze drifted down to the street below and he froze. Across the street he could see a man. A man in a trench coat with a hat pulled down over his face. The man took a cigarette away from his mouth and blew out a circle of smoke. His head tilted upward and he looked straight up at Cassian’s window.
He gasped and flopped back onto the bed. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment and then closed his eyes. Why should he even be worried? It was nothing. But he couldn’t shake the twisting in his stomach: and the thought that maybe... something in this house was... wrong.
To Be Continued...
(c) 2009 -- Shaun Stevenson
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