Page 19 of Found in Obscurity
His mother’s things. His father’s things.
It was such a small home to hold so much.
“It’s yours.”
Lorin couldn’t look at her. “It’s not.”
“It calls for you, not me,” his grandma said, taking his hand and placing a large brass key between his numb fingers. “It’s yours. It remembers you.”
Lorin closed his fist around the key, feeling the faint hum even through his gloves. The feeling was like an excited hello.
The fox sniffed around his hand like it could feel it too, trying to poke its snout between his fingers to investigate.
Lorin closed his eyes and took a steadying breath before pushing the car door open.
The fox gave up its investigation and instead hopped out of the car, the arch of its body graceful, its tail flicking Lorin under the nose. He followed the fox on shaky legs, only getting as far as the very edge of the property before pausing.
The stone pathway leading up to the five stone steps was clear, green with age and slick with melted snow and rain. Soon it would build again, and the steadily dropping temperature would make sure all the surviving greenery was blanketed.
The fox roamed around, investigating, ears pricking with every sound. Lorin watched it dive out of sight before reappearing, pristine white fur dirty.
It often looked back at Lorin, as if making sure he was still there or coaxing him closer. Lorin couldn’t properly tell, his head too clouded and heart too sore to be an accurate measure of anything.
The way the fox darted up the stone steps to paw at the door was a clear sign, though. It sat down and looked back, creating a perfect tableau of everything Lorin hadn’t wanted in his life.
His familiar. His old house. Confronting ghosts and memories, no longer able to hide from them. Unable to wrap himself in the protective cloak of solitude. And yet there was a compulsion in him that urged his feet forward. Toward the fox. Toward his parents’ house. Toward the secrets it held.
He put the key into the lock and turned the heavy bolt, taking a shuddering breath before turning the handle. The door swung inward without needing to be pushed, like the house couldn’t wait. The fox slipped inside as soon as the gap was big enough, and Lorin frowned, feeling worry build as soon as it was out of sight.
He could hear the gentle tap of the fox’s feet against the worn wooden floors, and he went after it, following the patter carefully. His heart urged him to look around, to take in everything he could and just hold it all inside.
But his mind forced him to keep his eyes forward. Focused.
There was an echo of a past him in the walls. There was an essence of him inside that cabin, and he knew, he could just feel that he was once happy there. Cared for and loved and protected. He’d had a home there.
He walked farther in on shaky legs, looking around the open space of the bottom floor. A small living room was crammed full of oversized, cushy furniture, a kitchen tucked at the other end of the room. Both the furniture and the cabinets in the kitchen were made of dark wood that almost matched the floors, but while the wood matched, nothing else seemed to.
The upholstery on the furniture ranged from dark, mossy green velvet on a large armchair, through a muted beige on a long sofa, to a very bright, loud floral pattern on a little love seat tucked into one corner. The kitchen cabinet doors matched the mismatch. They were all painted a different shade of green, yellow, or orange, making the entire place look like an extension of the woods seen through large windows at the back of the house.
The room seemed to take up most of the space on the bottom floor, with doors leading into what Lorin assumed were most likely a bathroom and a bedroom.
And finally there was a wooden spiral staircase leading to the top floor.
The fox was trotting down the stairs just as Lorin paid them attention, leaving tiny paw prints in the layer of dust on the floor like a signature, imprinting itself on something else Lorin now owned.
As if it wanted to make himself a part of every little bit of Lorin’s life.
He felt a nudge against his calf and looked down to see the fox pushing its nose into it, nudging Lorin to take a step forward.
He didn’t want to.
He didn’t want to merge himself with the place. Every second spent inside made him feel like he was giving in. Like he was turning his back on what he had decided long ago and allowing the shadows of past him to become more solid than the him he had become over the years.
He didn’t think he was ready for that to happen. Didn’t know if he ever would be.
He’d just turned around, ready to head out, when he heard a car engine start and the rumble of it as it drove away from him. He rushed to the open door and found himself looking at the cloud of dust his grandma left in the wake of pushing her barely working car to the very limits as she hightailed it out of there. Leaving Lorin alone with his familiar in his childhood home.
His bag had been left by the half-fence separating the house from the rest of the woods, as well as a bag filled with groceries and another with some blankets and a pillow tucked inside. He walked out and picked it all up, carrying it inside and dropping it next to the door.