but it takes more away from you.
― Veronica Roth
White Picket Fence
This house isn't my childhood home anymore.
My parents are gone, nor are they in the cemetery―that's just their physical remains. I'm now alone in what once was my family home.
It was fear that kept me from coming back here, that, and maybe the ghosts of what had been.
But my fears were unfounded because my memories were corrupted. I'm not even sure I really understood my parents or what made me rebel against them.
In running from them I lacked their wisdom and guidance and ended up bringing shame upon them. That's the guilt I deal with―those are the ghosts that haunt me, but rather than face it, I blamed them.
I'm sitting in the den trembling and not because I'm chilled. I light a fire anyway because it calms me to stare into the flames.
My mind goes back to the day of my arrest. I had been drinking with Mace Wells and the boys when he suggested we go for a joyride in the countryside.
We stopped by a farm and they told me to keep watch while they had some fun. I had no idea what that meant.
But I also saw flames that day―they torched someone's farm house.
Two hours later I was sitting in an OPP cell arrested on charges of arson.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, I upbraid myself, but it's useless reliving the past because it's written in stone...
like the tombstones of my parents' graves, or the dark recesses of this hearth, giving light but no warmth.
Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned...but there's no real reparation when what is done is done and the ones you harmed are gone.
The doorbell chimes and startles me out of my dark funk.
I get up to answer and see a young Asian man smiling on my doorstep.
"You must be Jonas," he says with a friendly grin, "I'm Tak-kwong Yin, but my friends call me Tech. I changed the locks on your door and your wife asked me to do an estimate for installing a security system. Did you get my email?"
"Uh no," I say dazed, "I've been out all day and haven't checked my email."
"Oh, I should have waited―I was in the area and thought I'd drop by―I can come back."
"No, no, you're here―c'mon in."
"You have a nice house," he says approvingly. "I love older homes―they have character."
"Thank you. I was going to make coffee―you interested?"
"That would be cool―I've been busy myself today and am dying for a caffeine fix."
"Well, you'll like my brew―it's Starbucks and I tend to make it strong."
"The stronger, the better," he laughs.
"So what do you suggest we need to make the house secure?" I ask as I make coffee.
"You should have a video doorbell, an intruder alarm system, motion lights, motion detectors and of course, cameras with night vision capability."
"Sounds daunting―how long would it take to install?"
"A couple of hours. I could do it right now and walk you through how to use it. With the system I have in mind, you can get push notifications on your cell phone and you can also pay a small fee for 24 hour monitoring."
"Sounds like a plan―let's do it," I smile.
It's after six by the time Tech has finished the install and walked me through how to use everything. I opt for the 24 hour monitoring service, so I will be well protected regardless of my competency in operating the system.
I order in pizza, light another fire and feed Frizzy. Afterwards, we both curl up on the couch and are soon fast asleep.
Strangely, I dream of Isabel and me living in the house and planning a family. When I awake, I'm chagrined to think of how my subconscious has been busy in the background planning out my future.
It is funny though that Tech had assumed we were married. I hadn't bothered to correct him.
Truth was, I liked the idea.
As you have posted like this without any community, it sees like (in #writing), how can I post in such (in writing) kindly tell me the way.
I hear you @swagatoroy, it's hard being on your own. I just add the writing topic to my edited copy and push post. It's not easy for content creators...