Our Home Now

I tugged my luggage carefully behind me, my muscles aching immensely. I turn to my husband, James who had merely advanced behind me, three suitcases propped in his hands. His olive complexion turned into many shades of red, lines of veins continued to bulge from his skin.

“Where is this house you were so excited for?” I muttered out of breath, eyeing my husband carefully. I could feel my heart thumping in my chest. James laughed quietly behind me, the sound of his footsteps cut off abruptly.

“Just a little while longer,” he explained, his voice calm and composed. I looked in front of me to the many rows of nearly identical houses. They were all painted the same grim colour of grey, with four square-shaped windows scattered across the front. 

I pushed myself further along the road, turning my gaze to the houses as we advanced further down the street. There were no cars in sight, apart from our old, rusty Mustang. After a few moments, I stopped in front of a two-story home at the very edge of the street, facing the intersection. It had the same grey exterior, except the windows were completely shattered. The coats of paint on the garage was falling off, rolls lying close beside.

“What did you buy James?” I exclaimed, pushing my hands on the sides of my torso. The house looked like a disaster, completely beyond repair. I pushed a strand of my dark hair behind my ear, letting the tenseness in my shoulders relieve itself.

“It was very cheap when I bought it,” he reassured, walking closer towards me, “it can’t be so bad inside.”

“Don’t estimate your luck.”

I reached for the luggage once more, trudging across the large lawn, mainly covered in dry, dead grass. The house looked horrific compared to its surrounding counterparts. I pushed the broken door with my foot, revealing the interior.

The foyer was completely wrecked; the handrails on the stairwell bending at an extremely worrying angle. The floral wallpaper was rolled on the floor, spreading across the polished, scratched floors. The stench of metal and oil-filled my nose as I advanced further down into the foyer. 

The rest of the home was not as promising. The kitchen seemed to be missing a refrigerator and a sink. The fireplace placed in the center of the living room was destroyed, bricks scattered across the carpeted floors. I could barely grasp the idea of tears before I felt the stream of wetness rolling down my cold cheeks. James walked closely behind me, reaching his hands onto my shoulder, gripping them tightly.

“It’s not so bad, it seems homier than I thought,” he laughed gently, pulling me closer towards him. I could barely look at the destructed home, the scent too strong for me. 

“I hate it here,” I admitted, sobbing into my husband’s chest. My throbbing pain in my arms seemed to increase as I continued to let tears exit from the corners of my eyes.

“Don’t worry, I have a little surprise,” James began, letting go of his grip around me. He disappeared into the dark corridors of the home, the sound of his footsteps becoming increasingly fainter by the moment. I walked into the living area, letting my body rest on the wall. The sound of crumbling drywall echoed from somewhere nearby.

James ran through the corridor, holding out a small box in front of him. His large strides seemed to glide on the wood as he stumbled in front of me, his large white teeth glittering.

“I found this in the attic,” he explained, pushing the box forward towards me. I eyed it suspiciously. It looked to be extremely old, the sides of the cardboard deteriorating and crumbling. The tape which sealed the box shut peeled from each corner, revealing dark brown spots in place. 

“What is this?” I asked, taking the box gently in my hands. It was lighter than I had anticipated, my hands began to graze the sides of it. I shook it gently, the contents inside rattling slightly.

“Open it to find out.”

I tugged on one side of the tape, pulling it across the front of the box, the folds jolting upwards. I pulled one side of the fold upwards, revealing a rectangular shaped object lying on the bottom of it. It was completely wrapped in gift wrap, the drawing of Santa Claus and his reindeer covering the entire surface. Christmas wrap.

I reached for the rectangular object, pulling off the old gift wrap carefully. Clouds of smoke rose from inside, entering my airway. I struggled to mask my desire to cough. Underneath the wrapping was a frame; the image of a boy and a girl smiling reflected on the light shimmering from above. 

I examined the boy and woman carefully, the structure of their faces are familiar. The woman had an olive complexion and her hair tightly tucked into a neat bun. The sides of her mouth jerked upwards into a grin as she held the boy tightly into a hug. The boy resembled the woman greatly, sharing the same skin tone and eye shape. I smiled as I ran my finger around the outline of the frame.

“James, is this you?” I asked, pointing to the boy. He smiled, taking the picture frame in his hands.

“This used to be my home years ago,” he explained, looking around the destructed home, “and I want it to be ours now.”

“But it’s destroyed,” I explained, pointing to the piles of drywall layering up near the doorway. 

“We can always fix it,” he said calmly, approaching the archway of the fireplace. He placed the picture frame gently on the top, resting it on the red brick, “it’s our home now.”

I smiled at the photo, knowing the significance this house had on him. I felt a sense of warmness looking around, knowing the memories James had made here. I felt ready to make our own.

“Well, let’s get started!” he said excitedly, extending his hand towards mine. I couldn’t help but smile. This home didn't seem bad after all.