Welcome Home

My landlord almost blew a gasket when he came by with the lease renewal forms and saw the stacks of ‘donate’ boxes behind me, but I’d rather sacrifice my first unborn child than live in this place another year. Sewage bubbled up through my sink disposal at least once a week, the kids next door never stopped fighting over the remote, and the rotting floors threatened to buckle. 

   It would be different if my neighbors bothered to learn my name, but they pretended to look for their keys in the urine-scented halls as I waved like a madwoman. Those were the decent ones. The others often strolled by like I wasn’t there.

   I tried to convince myself that it didn’t matter anymore because, in less than twelve hours, everything was going to change. I’d be living where the birds sang all day and the bugs took over at night, where the food grew in the garden and was on the table by sunset, a place where the pines would come to know me by name.

   The hours passed like seconds, but it was probably because I slept through most of it thanks to the quiet train car. I’ve only been to Mallard once for a matcha festival, but it's always felt more like home than any city I’ve visited. The station was filled with older couples in starched pants and sweatshirts asking what brought me here. Their kind smiles and inquisitive nature overrode Sam’s warning: The townspeople just don’t get what we’re doing; they don’t see the vision. After the sixth person talked to me while waiting for Sam, I told them I was staying at Blackvine Acres for a while.

‘Those hippies?’ 

‘What the hell you going there for?’ 

‘Sweetie, you oughta get back on that train.’

  Sam was right, they just didn’t get it. I should’ve tuned them out after an older woman called me a yankee, but their comments couldn’t take away from this moment. Oak trees lined the streets and wispy, Spanish moss hung from their thick branches as sunbeams peeked through the cracks. A white pickup truck pulled up to the curb and I caught a glimpse of that familiar smile through the windshield.

   After an awkward hug, he tossed my stuff in the backseat and the ride changed from Spanish moss and oak trees to towering pines and decaying buildings. The sight of the distant hills burned away some of the negativity the older couples tried to plant. I’d probably feel even better if Sam could do anything other than respond to my comments with grunts. We’ve talked every day for months and he never wanted to say goodbye, but now the hum of the air conditioner dominated our conversation.

   Maybe there was nothing to discuss. We discussed what was expected of me several times: mostly plant harvesting because I have a green thumb, occasionally gathering firewood, and I was already added to the cleaning rotation. Lola went to the grocery store on Saturdays and whatever requests may or may not be filled, but since I was new, they’d honor all of mine for a bit. Breakfast was prepped for the week on Sunday and dinner was served every day right after sunset. Everything was family-oriented and I loved it. 

   Kyan’s lanky body and stringy hair emerged from a small brick hut beside the large iron gate. He welcomed me and they spoke briefly before he ushered us through. Kyan returned to his booth and the vibrant foliage lining the curved driveway welcomed us. The sprawling estate I'd only seen in photos came into view and the almost black vines enveloped the gray brick, giving it that stately look only achieved by years of neglect.

   Sam gave me a quick run-down of where everything was and showed me the rooms with beds and cots littering the floors. He said they were lax about sleeping arrangements, but told me where everyone usually slept. Elsie, Abby, Tommy, Gio, Lola, and Kyan. I'd spoken to all of them for a few moments over video chat when I first found Sam on social media. They begged me to visit on each call, but as time passed, I just loved their energy and how they felt like a family. I jokingly asked if I could stay with them for a bit, not expecting a yes, but they were more than excited to have a new face.

“Where’s everyone?”

“Waiting for you. Do you need to freshen up or anything?”

“Sure.”

   He pointed me toward an open door where the bright red wallpaper glowed and went off to get me some water. Dust surrounded a huge square in the wall in a mirror’s place. There were large bottles of the basics, towels, and nothing else. Maybe it’d be good for my self-esteem. 

A thousand products and mirrors were overrated and it seemed decorations were as well as Sam led me through the sparse house, but each sip of water made me feel more at ease. The space where he’d video chat me from was spotless with its sole table and a single picture of vines. It looked like the only place they didn’t rearrange; varying sizes of dust spots on the floors and walls where furniture and frames once clung to the carpet and wallpaper. 

“This way.” He grabbed my hand, pulling me through the kitchen. “They’re in the garden.”

  Large hedges blocked the view from the window, but pink smoke plumes raced toward the skies. It surrounded me and raged in my lungs as everyone stood around the dancing flames, looking just as they had on the screen, but their robes dragged through the dirt, stained with soot. They welcomed me with hums and open arms enveloping me in the smell of roses despite the brown, sunburnt petals that clung to the hedges.

“What is—” 

  They shushed me and placed a heavy cloak around my shoulders, its weight almost brought me to my knees. They hummed and swayed as they tossed rose petals into the fire. Elsie retrieved some from her pockets and dropped them into my hands. Their soft red flesh turned my palms pink as I rubbed them between my fingers. She guided me to the dancing flames and Sam stood beside me with his hand resting on my shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he said, tossing his petals into the fire. “It’s just tradition.” 

The smoke assaulted my lungs, but I tossed the petals into the flames to appease them as I tried to hold back a coughing fit. 

“I’m not feeling too good.”

   He smoothed my hair and pressed his ear against my lip, his arms anchored me to him like chains. “Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon.”

My heart thrashed against my ribcage as I tried to think of a way out. Tears bubbled to the surface and those warnings I swept under the rug raced to the front of my mind. 

“No, I think I need to go home,” I said, but my voice faded with each word as my eyes and limbs grew heavy. 

He wiped my tears with a rose petal and tossed it in the flames. “This is home, now.”