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by silent
Rated: E · Short Story · Family · #2186618
a girl that fights, yet discovers things about her aunt, and her mother along the way.
Some say things don't always go as planned when dealing with an average teenager life, as for me I try to make my life as simple as a soft melody playing from a piano. But my mother says I should get out more and try and make some friends, but honestly, I'm fine with just sitting on my bed in the midafternoon, reading my horror fiction books, thinking how dumb the characters can be when they go in a room they know something bad is just behind the threshold. I stare out my window on a bright sunny morning while smelling the aroma of fresh pancakes being made by my mother downstairs. I gently close my eyes for a second while sitting on my bed and think of how simple but complicated life can be, I take a deep breath in, and let it out slowly concentrating on the simpler things in life, like right now the delicious smell of pancakes! I open my eyes suddenly getting a rush of excitement to meet my mother downstairs for some breakfast. I scurry down the stairs, and head into the kitchen where I see my mom put my favorite silver plate down onto my placemat directly a crossed from hers. I sit down, smiling up at my mom as she brings me a small stack of pancakes.
Smiling back my mother asks, "sleep well?"
I just replay with a full face of pancakes as I nod happily. She chuckles softly to herself, while going back to the kitchen to get herself her portion of pancakes. She then sits down at the table with a sudden worried look on her face, making myself almost concerned what made her change her mood so quickly. It must be because she has to restock her watercolors from her art collection from her studio. She has always been cooped up there for as long as I can remember, she paints like the worlds going to end, but does it happily, but yet with such perseverance its almost magical. But I change my mind almost as sudden as she changes her face when she notices I'm staring right at her without eating. Before she could say anything, I ask abruptly, "Mom what's going on with ya?" she looks down at her plate her pancakes still untouched, then says "I wanted to make your favorite breakfast first, before I told you anything." At this point I don't want to finish the last couple bites I have left my mom normally never acts like this, so she has my full attention, so I push on further. "Mom might as well tell me now, your acting like something serious has happened" as I point my fork at her making my point. She looks back up at me with a sorrowful look, catching me off guard, she says "your aunt Margret has passed way...I received a voicemail this early morning" I just looked at her with a blank face, not knowing how to react or even how to react to this type of news! What am I supposed to do? I want to have limited emotion at this point, I don't want to upset my mother even farther, so I reach a crossed from the table and fold my mother's hand that was supposed to pick up her fork but never did. I finally decide to look down at my plate and say, "you know, I'm going to miss everything about my auntie, and I know you will miss everything about you sister...but do you want to at least talk about it?" I knew how close they were, seeing it as they had a wicked past with one another from foster care, to getting abused, to failed marriages, then for her sister meeting death at an early age. Even though me and my auntie used to do everything together it seems she was more distant over the years, like something changed in her since her last divorce with her second husband. I look up again seeing my mother in tears, tightening her grip within my hand trying hard to speak but the lump in her throat stops her. She clears her throat and finally in a whisper she manages to say, "our relatives have always had a place in our hearts whether it be cousins or uncles or aunties, but no one compares to my sister, she always seemed so strong." She pauses and leans back in her chair releasing the grip from my hand. "What I meant was, my sister should have done what she did to not feel the pain anymore, I would have been closer to her should have been there for her when she needed it most with her failed marriages..." her voice becomes soft, but almost too soft for my ears to hear as she mumbles to herself. I cut her off whatever she was trying to say realizing what my auntie did to let her pain go away for good, and feeling my very own tears flood my face, I put all aside to be there for my mother she needs me the most more then ever right now. So, I managed to say
"Mom sometimes in life its hard to carry on, and go through the thing like she has...but she made her decision and even though she isn't here any more she made her mark on the both of us and this house" she has always come to the house now and again and leave little presents here and there remained the both of us she loved us, just like a man leaving love letter for his wife to let her know she has someone that loves her. I used to listen to how her first husband used to do that, but after awhile his work to over the relationship and wasn't around but seemed to be with people from his work more on his breaks, the wrong type of people of you ask me. But I noticed the long paused the both of us had so I lean back on my chair put both hands in my lap and was curious about something. "Mom, are we going to clear her stuff at her house keep something's as well to remember her by?" my mom looked at me almost smiling determined to do the same thing. So, after she made a few phone calls she helped me clean the rest of the kitchen with me and decided to take a long road trip up to my aunties house, but a big part of me wanted to drive up there to visit not to clear out her stuff because she isn't here anymore.

It took two houses to drive from our house to get here, but all worth it. I step out of my mom's jeep and head to the door, my mom soon then follows and opens the front door without saying a word. I almost run inside to check the place out again, its been awhile since I've been here last, so I run up to my old guest room I used to stay in when my mother and I used to visit. While running up the spiral staircase I realized I forgotten how big the house was, from this view I can see my mother walking slowly to the porch where my auntie and my mother would sit outside and talk for hours laughing. The thought of them together life that warms my heart for a brief moment when I hear creaking upstairs. The hairs on the back of my neck stands up wishing there really wasn't someone up on the second floor, and was just the old creaks of the wood...
At the top of the steps I stand there looking for any signs of a person going into a room, or something like that but I shortly notice all the bedrooms are closed, so I go to the nearest one and try to open the door, but its locked, I go and try the others but the only one that's open is my guest room. This makes me choke up remembering what my auntie has always told me "your always welcome in my house love"
Looks like she has kept her word. I walk into the room and notice something on the bed, its an old suitcase with the hatch half open, I decided to go ahead an open it curious to see what's inside. I open the lid to the dusty case, revealing men's clothing, a couple of old bow-ties and matches, I lift up the clothing out from the suitcase, and notice a note underneath, I pick it up to read it when I suddenly get an uneasy feeling again shortly after I then hear the creaking again. I look behind me and notice no one is there, I shake the feeling off, and read the letter.


"Margret I'm sorry the way things ended, you were right she wasn't worth it, but if I ask the same question nether are you, you spend so much time with your sister than me, and I wonder if we just drifted apart after what happened, I guess I can't blame you but I am. Because I told you that I was sorry, but it wasn't good enough nothing was, so I decided to leave you, and leave this house your always in, this is goodbye, don't bother coming to find me"
After reading the note I felt like I wasn't supposed to be there and immediately put everything back and ran downstairs understanding why he left, after what he did to her and still not excepting what he did and how wrong it was, I guess that was he braking point. But what still puzzled me was why the suitcase was on the bed, did he used to sleep there after they got into so many fights? I guess I wouldn't know since she isn't here anymore. As I run down the steps I find my mother in the kitchen again cooking something. "mom, what are you making?" I go up behind her looking over her shoulder. "Her favorite broccoli stew, our mother used to make it for us all the time before she died." I look up at her realizing she is telling me more about her past, and he mother opening up to me little by little as I grow older and older. "so, did you find anything that you wanted to keep?" I ask still looking over he shoulder. "yes, I did, I went to her garage and found her old arsenal cabinet she used to keep" I step back and wondered what did auntie like so much about guns? So, I asked "why did she have that for?" she turned around smiling, then said "she always was fascinated on how they worked, we used to go to the gun range now and again and really bonded over things like that" she looked down at what she was doing realizing she was cooking a meal that her sister was never going to eat. She looked at me and said, "clean this up for while I gather the rest of the stuff?" I just nodded my head and pitted the uneaten food and did what I was told. But while I was doing so I swear I heard my mom say my name, and when I called out to her there wasn't any answer from her, I began to feel uneasy and just continued cleaning.


A short while later, my mom packs everything in the car she wanted to keep, almost tearing up by how devastating all of this really was. I open the car door to only look back up at the house for a moment longer, missing the house, my auntie, but yet still wondering what's going on within that house. I get in after that and my mother and I head back to the house without saying a word.


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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2186618-The-house-of-many-memories