Belong (Seven Year Itch #3)(11)

The door creaked open as I entered. The light switch to the room was easy to locate. I remember being too small to reach it without getting on my tippy toes. Now it seemed low and out of place. I headed over to her vanity, still filled with pictures of me as a small child. I tugged one out of the seam of wooden trim and held it closer. My parents, so young and full of life, were both looking down at me. I was holding a toy car and smiling with my two front teeth missing. The next picture I pulled from the mirror was one of me and my grandparents. Seeing my grandfather younger and healthy was difficult. He’d withered away until there was nothing left. His body had deteriorated from the inside, much like my mother’s had.

I couldn’t imagine watching my child suffer and die before me. The anguish my grandparents must have gone through seemed heart wrenching and unbearable. I didn’t want to think it could ever happen to Harper. I wanted her to live a long and healthy life. I wanted to watch her grow old, and hope she was around to take care of me when I was unable to do it for myself.

She would always be the most important person in my life. I needed to keep reminding myself of that. She was my home. My home would be wherever she was.

Something my grandfather said to me popped up in my mind.

He’d said happy and home. It made no sense to me. What had he meant? Did he expect me to come home, back to Washington D.C.? Did he think this was where I belonged? I couldn’t uproot my family. We had a life in California, potential for a successful future.

When I couldn’t shake it from my mind, I headed out of my mother’s room, closing the door behind me to protect it’s purpose like everyone had always seemed to do. My grandfather’s quarters were at the opposite end of the large home. I recalled running up and down the hallways, even riding skateboards and bicycles when I was a bigger kid.

I passed by more photos, getting rattled as each reminded me how alone I’d become. Once I turned the corner, I knew I was getting close. I ran my fingers over the wainscoting as I approached the closed double doors. When my hands were on the knobs I had to take a deep breath before entering.

The first thing I noticed before turning on the lights was the smell of eucalyptus rub. He must have been going through a ton of it for the whole room to carry the fragrance. The room illuminated as I flicked on the switch, taking in the surroundings. There weren’t many changes. His large king-sized bed was at the far end. Two nightstands were next to either side, and on them sat lamps he’d had imported from France. It was obvious to tell which side of the bed he’d been sleeping in from the vast amount of medications filling the small surface. There was a chaise at the foot of the bed, and two chairs to the left, under a large bay window. The drapes were too fancy for my tastes, but a definite reflection of my grandparent’s style. They were old fashioned, and it was obvious when one entered their spectacular home that they’d traveled all over the world.

Once inside the room, I sat down on one of the chairs, placing my hands on both arms. I coasted the area, thinking of all the times I’d come blasting in the room full of energy and excitement. As professional as my grandfather had seemed on the outside, he was quite a character behind closed doors. His sense of humor would be remembered by everyone who once knew and loved him.

I felt a tear fall down my cheek. I wasn’t one to cry, but the past twenty-four hours had taken a toll on my sanity. I was tormented and torn, a victim of my own anguish. For the life of me I couldn’t find comfort in anything.

I closed my eyes to try to calm myself down. His words popped in my head again. Happy and home. What did he mean by it? I knew he wasn’t talking about California, and wondered if it had to do with this house, which I knew was now all mine. What would I do with such a large piece of property? Did I have the heart to let it go; to sell it to the highest bidder? The thought of it being the last place my family was, left me thinking I couldn’t. This would always be my home, no matter where I was actually living.

My mind carried back to a particular night years ago.

It was the same evening I had decided to let go of Rachel; to walk away from the woman I was completely in love with. My selfless act left me feeling vulnerable. I headed home in hopes to drink away the sorrow, but found the memories of her being there were too hard to fathom. Unable to flee from my own pain, I headed to the mansion. It was late, and I assumed everyone would be asleep already. I walked in and found my grandfather in the parlor. He was having a nightcap while watching the end of a ballgame. He saw me enter the room and poured me a glass. “You look like you could use one of these.”

I picked up the glass and admired the design before downing the strong liquor it contained. “Can I have another?”

“That bad, son?” He’d called me that my whole life. In many ways he was the only father I could remember.

“Pretty much. I don’t think it can get worse.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really. You’ll probably tell me I’m an idiot and I’ll feel worse.”

He cleared his throat loudly. “Let me ask you this. Do you feel like you made the right choice?”

“I’m struggling with that question, Granddad. I know in my heart she’s better off, but it’s ripping me a new ass. That’s for sure.”

He chuckled. “That’s when you know you’ve got it bad. Have you considered telling her how you really feel?”