The Resident

It’s the first summer without Great-Grandpa, and coming back to his house creates a lump inside Elijah’s chest. After unlocking the chain link fence that leads to the backyard, a part of him hopes Great-Grandpa would come staggering out and gives them tight hugs, but no one comes out.

Three boxes greets the boys; the first two are sitting in the Living Room, and the last one in the middle of the foyer. Without pictures and miniature statues on the shelves, the house feel and look bigger.

“Too bad we couldn’t keep his chair,” Kenneth says, standing over a square furniture dent on the off-white carpet.

“I know, but I think it’s best the bugs keep it,” Elijah replies, scrunching up his face in disgust.

It’s not a joke either; apparently, there were hundreds of bed bugs hiding in the crevices of the leather rocking chair.

“Coming home with absolutely no bed bugs clinging to us had to have been God’s doing,” Kenneth states in awe, “I mean we sat in that chair wearing board shorts and short sleeved shirts. Our skin was exposed, yet not one bug was on us.”

Elijah shudders at the memory; it really was an act of God.

“Oh, Lord, don’t make me think about anymore,” he calmly begs.

Kenneth chuckles, then picks up the box closest to his feet.

“Don’t be standing there all day,” He says in a strained voice.

Unfortunately, after Kenneth leaves, Elijah does the exact thing he said not to do. for a moment, he hopes Great-Grandpa will walk out the bedroom, thank him and Kenneth for helping him move his things to the car, and says goodbye to the house he lived in for sixty years. In Elijah’s mind, Great-Grandpa is going to an assisted living place, not hospice.

A small tear streams down his cheek.

“Fool, what did I just say about you standing there!” Kenneth asks irritably, as he marches through the kitchen.

Elijah quickly wipes a tear. “Sorry, I was distracted.”

“Whatever, man,” Kenneth scoffs as he brushes past Elijah and carries the second box out.

Elijah speed walks to the last box in the foyer. When he bends down to lift it, he spots an old dirty footprint on the carpet. He remembers Dad talking about squatters roaming around this house two months ago, so he ignores it and carries the box out the back door.

He watches Kenneth go back inside the house while he pushes the last box into the trunk. After that, he just stands there. The urge to wail is so strong that it hurts his face; it’s almost like he’s a dam about to burst.

Kenneth In the kitchen, Kenneth paces around the room with his hands on his hips and nostrils flaring. The silence and stillness of the house plugs up Kenneth’s ears like he’s in an airplane. The silence means he’ll have no choice but to listen to his thoughts. Thoughts of Great-Grandpa dying, and not being able to say goodbye.

“Come on, come on,” he quietly scolds himself as he drags his hands over his thick hair.

Then, the sound of glass shattering echoes from the basement. The basement is the only part of the house the boys have never been in because they were afraid; Kenneth remembers Great-Grandpa trying to help the boys conquer their fears by telling them that he has a Winchester rifle mounted on the wall right next to the deer he hunted. He thought telling the boys about the cool stuff he had would convince them to go down. Clearly that didn’t work.

Kenneth cautiously walks to the top step and leans close to the intense darkness, hoping to hear a panicked bird trying to find its way out.

Another shatter echoes from the basement, causing Kenneth to flinch.

“Ok…” he grumbles. The idea of going down there to check things out makes his chest feel like it’s shrinking. Shrinking to the point of cutting off his breathing.

“E-Elijah!” Kenneth calls out hesitantly; there could be some valuable things down there and Dad did instruct the boys to get Great-Grandpa’s stuff from the house. So, it’s safe to assume that Dad didn’t mean just the first floor.

Elijah dashes into the kitchen.

“What’s up?” he asks as he cautiously approaches Kenneth.

“Uh, I need you to come with me to see what’s going on down there.” Kenneth nervously rubs his hands against his jeans.

Elijah raises his eyebrows. “Down there? For real?”

Kenneth rolls his eyes. “Yes, Fool, more of Great-Grandpa’s stuff is down there, and Dad said to get all of it.”

“Rock, paper, scissors for who goes down first.”

After two ties, Elijah loses and descends into the darkness. A pungent mixture of moth balls and old water nearly burns his sinuses.

“Whew, it stinks. What exactly is going on down here?” Elijah asks, covering his nose with the back of his hand.

“ I keep hearing glass break.”

“Why didn’t you just go down and check it out?”

“Heck no, I wasn’t about to go down by myself,” Kenneth replies curtly.

His hot, cinnamon breath tickles Elijah’s ear.

“Seriously?! Aren’t you, like, almost thirty?”

“I don’t recall you volunteering to go down.”

Before Elijah could say anything, another thing breaks, then bare feet scampering.

“Oh, Lord, it’s a raccoon!” he cries as he nearly knocks Kenneth onto his back.

The scampering get feet gets louder and heavier. Heavier than any forest animal. Elijah frantically tries to follow the sound with his flashlight, until the running abruptly stop.

“I think it’s gone,” Kenneth says, smiling.

“I was about to say,” Elijah replies, still moving around with the light, until it reveals a pair of feet.

Elijah gasps as he slowly moves the light from the feet, to the legs, and up to the chin; it’s a boy about the same age as them in old dirty jeans and a faded black hoodie.

For what feels like forever, the three boys stare at each other in silent shock.

“So, is nobody going to say it?” the boy finally asks.