The boy who left his mother

After hauling a suitcase up the metro steps, paying an overpriced taxi fee, and wandering around a neighborhood with no cellular connection, not that there was anyone in the country she could call for help, Lila found herself in front of a baby blue mailbox she only knew from online photos. She gave her hands a break from gripping an uncomfortable handle. A layer of grime cleared from the shiny tiles glued to the side of the wood post. 

Number 13. She smiled.

 Lila bounced on her way to the door, leaving her suitcase, “My own house, my very own house.” She thought as she drooled over constructing her very own art studio and planting flowers in the empty front plot. The trip here had felt surreal, now she could dream and plan. She paused at the door remembering she needed the keys from the owner first. Just in the adjoining house, she remembered from the online listing. She had emailed this morning, but with no service, she hadn’t told them about her early arrival. Lila took a deep breath, the excitement shifting into anticipation and rang the doorbell. 

The house rang with an actual bell, not the impersonal recording she was so used to. It was these small touches that she loved the most, the ones that would turn this house into her sanctuary in a new country. Lila pressed her ear to the door and heard footsteps moving through the house. To her surprise, a meow came from her left. Sure enough, there was a black cat nestled into a letterman’s jacket. She shushed the cat, returning to listening to the shuffling steps. Once again the cat meowed. Not a hiss, per say, but it looked at her with a gaze that could only be called suspicious.

“Ciao Bella” Lila said, leaning closer.

The cat just turned away in reply—was that a hint of annoyance? She questioned

Lila straightened as the door opened a hesitant crack.

“Who are you?” A woman called out, not visible from the porch.

“I’m Lila, the new owner of the house adjoining this one—I was told you’d have the keys.”

“I don’t know anything about that, the house is...” Lila smiled awkwardly, the woman hid behind the door. “Say something girl, how can I be sure you’re not a ghost?”

Lila moved to the crack in the door meeting the woman’s eyes.

“I’m not a ghost. I’m Lila, from the online listing.”

“Last name?”

“Excuse me.”

Something silver glinted behind the woman, Is she holding a knife? Lila gripped her useless phone tighter. And what was that shuffling? The old woman was wearing trainers, not house slippers.

“Umm, Lila Strangford... You know...maybe. Maybe...I have the wrong address...took a wrong turn...you know how it is” Lila said, her exit plan nothing more than throw the phone and start running.

The woman shrugged. “Aye, I ask Jonathan about all technology mumbo jumbo.”

Lila laughed, shaking out the adrenaline in her legs. “So, he sent the email.”

“Probably, that old house is a piece of work.” The woman leaned back, revealing the silvery object to be a metal ladle. Now that Lila was more relaxed, she could see that a delicious chocolate scent filled the house. 

“You might as well come in, he’ll be home in an hour, I’ll order pizza or something. A celebration for selling the house.”

“Thank you, that sounds lovely Ms.”

“June Heaton, I’m also human.”

Just as Giulia undid the latch, the black cat wormed its way between Lila’s legs. Lila looked down and the door slammed. 

Despite countless protests, the woman would not open the door. Lila tried to shoo the cat away thinking that was the problem, but even with it gone, the old woman was firm in her ideals, whatever they were. You can call her stubborn. Lila sighed, her protests useless.

Bored out of her mind, Lila finally ended up stealing the cat’s chair and sketching the neighboring houses. It wasn’t long before her mind wandered back to her studio. 

My desk will be by the window, for natural lighting, but I’ll box the desk in with deep bookcases on either side. I need to get a calendar and a clock. Maybe blue like the mailbox.

“It’s almost seven” Lila breathed, an hour had passed without a sound. Why’s this country so quiet?

Lila shut her sketchbook and stretched, due time to ring the doorbell again.

“Lila?” A voice called out. By the joined mailbox stood a young man in a red and checkered uniform.

“Jonathan?” She asked, walking out to meet him.

“Yep, the traffic was crazy on the way over.” He said, the street behind him empty.

“Ah, I see, it’s not a problem I met Giulia when I arrived.” 

“The neighbor? yeah, she’s nice.”

“Oh, I thought you were related, the listing said the homeowner lived next door.”

“No, I live in the city, the carpets need to be redone in that house. The last lady to live there had stray cats following her everywhere she went, and the stench when she left was awful. It’s kind of funny when the business I hired to do the estate sale arrived they said”

“Estate sale?” Lila asked.

“Ah don’t let it scare you, she didn’t die in this house and I contacted her son before clearing out the house. He left a few years back on a football scholarship and saved up for years with a job in pizza delivery only to cut ties with his mother once he was abroad. I always gave him a good tip, but I really had no choice to evict her after he stopped paying.“

“Wow, that’s eerie. The woman I just met, had a cat and a letterman’s jacket, and kept talking about ghosts.”

“Creepy for sure. Well, should I let you see your new house, I have to get back to my wife.”

“Of course, thank you.”

“If you have any problems just contact me.” Lila smiled, watching him walk back to the car and drive off. 

A glimpse of a cat was visible in the back window, the eyes as suspicious as before.