G is for Ghosts

With this week, I'm electing to try a different approach to my blog posts. Wereas, last week, I did all nonfictional thoughts, this week, I'm going to post a story a day. I'm doing short fiction, just seeing if I can keep to a theme for a few days. Enjoy! If you hate it? GOOD! Tell me why....and I'll learn. If you prefer the nonfiction? Excellent...tell me that....



Peace!

      Lydia fidgeted with the lock and wondered if the reason the front door did not close totally was due to abuse from the movers all day or if it was jsut bad before she moved in. She used the key in the lock. The shiny gold key shone from non-use.


She was a new homeowner.


Only, it was an old house.


But new to her and her son.


Tiredness dug through her. Normally, her happiness of getting out of the rental would have appeased her more than focusing on the possibly broken deadbolt. She would be sore for days from the lifting and unpacking.


Frustration was mounting. And she did not need it.


She flicked the switch and noticed how old it truly was. The gold coloring had tarnished and did match the newly cut key. With a shrug she headed to the back of the house. She put down the keys next to her purse on the nook. She made a mental note to place key-bowl at the exact end of the long expanse of the counter, to make sure she never lost them again. Still, by the money was always a good second.


Keith had already dug out the laptop and had it switched to some annoying pop tunes on the kitchen counter. He was already bent over in the fridge, looking for food. The food was the same from the apartment, just moved in by herself not an hour before, from the cooler. He knew the contents. She did not know what could have stalled the decision making process when looking on the shelves.


"I thought you were going to use the shower? I made sure your had a shower curtain for your bathroom."


"I know, I know, but the growing man in me needed a snack."


He held up a pack of string cheese.


"There's apples over there."


"Yeah, but cheese heals, Mom. Cheese heals."


"You're silly. Get moving. Maybe I'll order us a pizza."


"No wifi yet."


"Where's teh music from?"


"Just downloads."


"Oh, okay, I can use the old fashioned method."


He looked concerned.


"Smoke signals?"


"The phone?"


"Oh. That."


"You have your father's lack of humor."


She knew she shouldn't have said it, after it had left her mouth.


Keith smirked and pulled his head back.


It had been a year since her husband had passed. But his history had not been erased from his sudden departure. She thought about him daily, usually at the most inopportune moments. She caught herself losing composure at the local supermarket. She burst into tears when his favorite songs came over the satellite radio in his little car.


She had made a promise to herself in honor of her son. Not to mention her deceased husband's name to her son during this move to the house. Not to aggravate her son any more than she had to with a new school and missing his friends. Keith was mature enough, but every little bit helped.


"Sorry, guess I had a lot on my mind, rigth?"


"Go down to your room. I'll give them a ring and get you"


"And..."


"And....I know what you like. They'll probably just repeat our usual order."



_________________________________________________________________________________

      She was too tired to be bothered. She walked to the top of the basement steps and yelled down to her teenager.

"All the drivers are busy at Tony's. I'm going to just run to the store and pick something up! What do you want?"

She could hear the drum of water from her son's old-new apartment in the basement. In fact, it was a selling point. Most of the house was from 1911, but someone put in an apartment in the basement. She doubted he would use the kitchenette, but the privacy of keeping a growing youth out of her hair worked.

It was also the only place with a working shower.

So far.

"WHAT?????"

"I'm going to run to the store and pick something up! Do you want something specific?"

"WHAT????"

The water did not turn off. She thought about spending further energy going down the steps, but knew that the eating machine that doubled as her son would probably eat whatever she could get regardless. She closed the door and headed back to the nook to get her keys and her purse.

The purse had been knocked over.

She imagined it must be her personal haze, a moment where she was so focused, she missed the details. She must have messed it up when she went for her phone.

But she thought she picked up the phone from the counter. Ten feet away.

The haze must have been pretty deep.

She fumbled up the collapsed side of the gray bag to where she did remember she placed her keys.

They were not there.

They were gone. A brief glance, coupled with a deep squat that popped both rotting knees, under the table.

Nothing.

The dog and cat where at her sister in law's house.

She looked to where the phone was.

Nothing. She heard the water turn off in the basement.

And a ping of the key chain coming to rest against the bevy of keys from her work.

The noise was louder than it should have been, as if someone purposely wanted her to her. It was not real, not like a normal sound that she encountered so much in her life. She left the kitchen with a hard right and glanced back to the front door. The sun had begun to set for the evening, a full day's work going to rest. The shadows desceded across the hall, but the only lamp had yet to be plugged in, still waiting atop drab boxes. She flicked the push button switch, another turn-of-the-century hold over and zero response was retorted. She moved to the door where her tired eyes could decypher a tan pile.

Her keys were in a heap, resting on the fold between the wooden floor and the scaled, white door.

The basement door opened slightly. Her son poked his head out. He was holding onto the door knob with one hand, his other held a large beach towel around his waist. Another mismatched towel was draped over his head, leaving the impression of a disheveled monk, arising from the basement.

"What did you say? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Hey, did you throw my keys at the door on your way down the steps?"

"No. Why would I do that?"

"Exactly. Why would you do that?" She pondered, then,"Look, going to run to the store of the deli, you want anything?"
"Anything is great-just bring home some pop."

"Soda," she stepped out the door.

"Pop."

"Soda!" She closed the door behind her. Keith went back down stairs to find his suitcase of clothes.