The Key to Everything

Returning home was always the hardest part for Sarah. Every year since she was sixteen years old she had hiked the same ten-day stretch of the Appalachian trail in the Shenandoah Valley- first with her father, and, now, with her husband. Garrett wasn’t exactly an outdoorsman, but he was a good sport and he had learned over the years how to travel in as much comfort as he could carry on his back. This year, he had even seemed to enjoy most of the trip and was in good spirits as the two of them made their way towards the trailhead they’d left their SUV at. 

“Do you think if we only take thirty minutes for lunch we’ll be able to get to the car before sundown?” he asked as they navigated a patch of dense foliage and rocks she’d wanted to get a closer look at. 

“Probably well before sundown even if we lingered a bit longer,” Sarah replied, trying not to let the disappointment show too much as she slowed her pace again. 

“We made really good time this year,” Garrett chirped, “maybe next year we can cut a day off if we train a bit in between.” 

“Maybe, but that seems like it would defeat the purpose. We come out here to escape, coming back early is like going back into the cage before you have to.” 

“Well, yeah, I guess so. It would be one less day to take off work though. Those quarterly earnings reports aren’t going to do themselves.” 

Sarah sighed, but chose not to respond. With every step closer they got to the car, her feet felt a touch heavier and her mood got a bit darker. Tonight they would get home, unpack their things and store them for next year, then they’d eat some shitty take out, probably have sex if Garrett didn’t immediately disappear to check his messages, then go to sleep to wake up for work the next morning. Sarah didn’t hate her job, exactly, but sitting in a cubicle listening to insurance claims day after day did wear on the soul after a while; and her soul felt worn. It was different out on the trail, though. The sky was infinite, the stars were bright, the air was clean. The same couldn’t be said for Waynesboro. 

“Think here’s a good spot?” Garrett’s voice shook her out of her melancholia and she smiled at him, 

“Yeah, I think so.” 

The clearing was beautiful, a small pond was rimmed with large rocks and a fallen tree big enough to sit on comfortably. They dangled their legs off as they enjoyed a few MREs they’d saved for the last day of their trek, and lapsed into a comfortable silence when they finished. Sarah leaned back and slid the chain always around her neck over her head to examine the key hanging from it. It wasn’t anything special; it wasn’t ornate or antique, just a common brass house key that opened the front door to a house no longer standing. Useless. But Sarah remembered the day her father had given it to her when she turned eleven after a series of break-ins in their quiet, suburban neighborhood had prompted him to start locking their front door in the summer of 1982. She’d used the key every day after school for the next seven years, then every visit home from college and beyond after that. The last time had been in the winter of 1998, when she’d packed up all his things and left nothing but an empty house ready to be demolished for a strip mall after he died. Such a small thing; the one thing of his she hadn’t lost. 

Garrett must have seen her brushing her fingers over it, because he reached over and squeezed her leg,

“He would love that you still do this every year for him.” 

Sarah smiled back, 

“I do it for him and for me. I feel him more out here than even at his grave. It’s like he’s walking beside me the whole time.” 

They sat for a few more minutes, then Garrett got up, stretched, and started packing up all the supplies he’d taken out to redistribute better in his pack. Sarah did the same, but much slower, taking her time and breathing in the wild air while she could. They still had a couple of hours to go, yet she knew that from here she would still feel less and less like she was in the wild with every step. As she finished zipping her pack, she didn’t notice that the chain back around her neck got caught in one of the many clips hanging from the bag, and when she swung the backpack onto her back, the chain stretched, snapped, and the key went flying into the pond. 

“Shit!” she exclaimed, throwing the bag back onto the ground, slipping off her boots and socks before traipsing into the probably disgusting pond water. 

“Sarah! What the hell, what happened?” 

“The key to dad’s house,” she threw over her shoulder, shuddering as she felt the squelching of her feet in muddy pond water, “the chain broke and it’s somewhere here.” 

“Oh no. Don’t worry, I’ll come in and help.” 

He starting shucking off his pack when relief flooded Sarah’s body,

“No need, I found it!” she triumphantly held up the muddy key she’d stepped on.

“Thank God! Now get back over here so we can dry you off.” 

Garrett found a mostly clean washcloth in his bag and helped his wife get dry enough that her feet wouldn’t soak her socks and boots. Then they laced her up and they were on their way again. 

“It’s a shame about the chain,” Sarah remarked as they hiked on, “I’d had that since he died.” 

“We will get you another one, for now keep the key in your zippered pocket and then put it on your keychain when we get to the car. That way you won’t lose it until we can replace the chain.” 

That’s exactly what Sarah did. When they finally made it back to the SUV, she dug her house keys out of her pack and while Garrett drove them the hour back into the city, she secured them safely next to the key for their modest townhome. She resolved to go to a jeweler in the next week to get a nice, new chain for it. 

“How are you doing?” Garrett reached over and took her hand, “I know the end of these trips is hard for you.” 

“I’m okay actually,” she smiled back, “It’s strange, this time it doesn’t really feel like I’m leaving him. It feels like he’s still right here with me.” 

It was the truth. That heavy feeling she normally associated with walking out of the Shenandoah park hadn’t come as they’d trekked the last several miles. It didn’t feel like she was losing her father all over again, it felt like she was getting him back. That feeling stayed with her as she returned to her normal life. 

Despite her resolve, the week following their trip got busy, and she never made it to the jeweler. The key she’d dropped in the pond stayed next to her house key undisturbed until she was walking up the path, flustered, on Friday evening, talking into her cell phone crushed between her ear and shoulder as she rummaged through her purse after a long day. 

“Garrett, I told you this morning, it’s fine,” she huffed as she dropped her wallet pulling out her keychain, rolling her eyes before bending to grab it, “I know the trip to Shenandoah threw off your end of quarter, I can eat dinner by myself it’s not a big deal.” 

He mumbled something on the other end that sounded like another apology before he interrupted himself to call out a question to his assistant. Sarah could feel her back aching and the arch of her feet throbbing, she just wanted to get inside, throw a frozen pizza in the oven, and get out of these damned kitten heels. She continued her reassurances to her husband, fidgeting through her keychain and inserting the key into the lock, turning the handle and saying, 

“Garrett, if you apologize one more time I am going to file for divorce. It’s fine, I promise. Now go get those reports done so I don’t have to listen to you grovel for another three months.” 

She heard a smile in his voice as he conceded, told her he loved her, and hung up. She sighed a huge breath of relief and opened the door, turning to put her purse on the hook by the door like she did every day while she closed the door behind her. Except her purse thudded to the floor when she let it go and she frowned at the beige wall where the hook should have been. Wait. Beige? Her walls were gray, and she had wood floors, not tile. 

“What the fuck?” 

She looked up and immediately wondered if she had mistakenly walked into the wrong house. Except all the houses on her block were exactly the same layout, and this was clearly not a mid-sized, two-story townhouse. It was… familiar. It was… 

“Oh my god, this can’t be real.” 

Sarah pinched herself, hard, and when the pain didn’t make her jolt awake tears immediately flooded her eyes. The beige walls were almost completely covered in prints of famous paintings from every era of art, cream-colored tile extended from the front door down the hallway toward what she knew was the kitchen. Hideous brown carpet covered the floors to her left in the spacious living room and beyond, more tile that led to the three bedrooms and two bathrooms in the single-story home. Tears began to spill down her cheeks, and she heard clunking coming from the kitchen along with the smell of something delicious and a jaunty whistling that was all too familiar. She was rooted to the spot, wanting to run to the sounds and smell, but unable to get herself to move. Her blood was rushing in her head, her heart pounding, and her breaths coming quicker than before, she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Before she could fully process, she saw a figure move into the hallway, his silhouette framed by an overhead light. 

“Sarah? Is that you, Bee?” 

“Dad?” her voice was shaky and quiet, but he just laughed a full-bellied chuckle and said, 

“Well who else would it be?” 

Sure enough, when he stepped closer she was looking into eyes so similar to her own, and a face framed with hair the exact color as on her head, just streaked with more gray. It was him, but there was no way this was real. Sarah turned, grabbed her purse and threw the front door open, collapsing on her front porch and hearing the door slam behind her. She was on her knees gulping in breaths, tears streaming down her face, shivering. When she looked up, it was darker than it had been and her porch light had come on. Sarah pulled in a shaky breath and stood, going to the door and seeing that her keys were still in the lock, hanging there innocuously. When she pulled the key out, she realized it wasn't the key to her and Garrett’s townhome, it was the one to her father’s house. After a moment of thought, she put the townhome key in the door and opened it up; it looked the exact same as it had for the five years since she and Garrett bought it. Gray walls, walnut floors, a carpeted staircase leading to the second floor bedroom. No classic art on the walls, no whistling, nobody home but her. 

Sarah looked down at the keys still in her hand, she had to have imagined her father’s house. She’d had a long week, and the emotions of the trip to Shenandoah must have made her hallucinate for a moment. Still… 

“I must be crazy,” she muttered as she walked back out to the front, closed the door, and inserted her father’s key into the lock. The first clue that she wasn’t crazy was that it fit, the second was that it turned, and the third was when she swung the door open to find her childhood beyond the threshold. Same beige, art-covered walls, same ugly carpet, same whistling coming from the kitchen. This time she stepped further into the house and called out tentatively,

“Dad? I’m home.” 

“Finally!” came his voice booming from the kitchen, “Dinner’s almost ready, come set the table!” 

With each tentative step she took down the hall, her heart beat faster. She smelled garlic and the slight burning that told her the man with his back to the table had made garlic bread. He’d never once pulled bread out of the oven without a little charring. His broad frame was covered in a flannel shirt that had seen better days, faded and red over classic blue jeans. There was a towel over his shoulder and he was whistling again. The same tune she’d never had a name for sent her rocketing back to her younger days. 

“Uh, dad?” 

“Yeah, Bee?” 

He turned around and she launched herself at him, he immediately folded her into a hug and she sobbed into his shoulder like she did when she was a kid. 

“I’ve missed you so much, I can’t believe you’re here right now.” 

“I’ve missed you too, Sarah Bee. This old house seems mighty empty without you buzzin’ around it. But we can catch up over dinner,” he let her go and she did as he asked. 

When the table was set, slightly charred garlic bread and pasta on the table, they started talking about everything. Her job, the irritating lady who worked in the cubicle next to her; her husband, how much she loved him and how good he was to her; her dreams, what she wanted out of life going forward. It was the best Sarah had felt since her father had passed and she would give anything to stay in the rosy glow of his kitchen forever. Eventually, however, she knew she had to go back, but she had a key to a house no longer standing and a front door with a lock that somehow fit it. So, after the dishes were done and everything was back in its place, her father walked her to the door. 

“Maybe the next time you come around you can bring that husband of yours, he seems alright.” 

“Yeah, Dad, maybe I will. I love you.”

“I love you too, Sarah Bee. Keep that old key around, okay? Doesn’t matter what door, I’ll always be here.” 

“Cross my heart. I’ll see you soon.”

With that, she opened the door and stepped onto her porch just in time to see Garrett’s car pull in the drive. She waved at him with a smile, chest aching in the best way. Sarah put her townhouse key into the door, opening the empty house with a full heart, thinking back to a dirty pond in the middle of Shenandoah and wondering if magic was real after all.