Page 42 of Diving In

“It’s Jack’s,” he said as he toyed with the keys. “But I’ve been taking care of it for a while. Even before Jack passed. He never could step foot in here, said it hurt too much.”

Cal began to turn the knob slowly, and my body tightened like the air was being sucked from my insides. I leaned in closer to hide behind his large frame, hoping he could curb the anxiousness, like a human shield protecting me from whatever laid beyond this door.

The door opened and my jaw dropped to the floor.

The house looked exactly as I remembered it, right down to the navy velvet pillows that were placed effortlessly in each corner of the couch, just like Mom had always kept them.

I stepped into the living room and allowed myself to savor this moment. Sure, there were shitty memories stockpiled within these walls, but this house was mychildhood. So many good times floated throughout, ones that I never wanted to forget. With one look around the room, those were the ones that flooded my head, and I couldn’t help but grin.

All our family pictures still hung on the walls in the wooden picture frames that Mom and I had picked out when we went into Charleston one day. Neatly placed around the room were photos that represented our once-put-together family. The one of Fletcher and I frolicking on the beach, the one of us in our matching Christmas outfits—the ones that Fletcher and Jack despised but tolerated because they knew how much it meant to me, and the one of all four of us on Manatee Island. We were all dressed in shades of blue, and it was the last time I remember Mom and Jack being really, truly happy.

Fletcher died three days later.

Even though Jack and I both hated those pictures simply for what they represented, Mom insisted on framing one and putting it on the mantel, so that’s exactly what she did.

Everything was placed exactly how it had been fourteen years ago, almost like we all still lived here as one big happy family. It was a bit eerie, and I couldn’t understand why Jack would’ve kept the house, or why he’d kept everything inside it just as it used to be.

Looking down at my hand still tightly gripped with Cal’s, I realized that this was easier because of his presence. I wanted him next to me, because I didn’t think I could’ve been in this house reminiscing on the past by myself. I wanted him to be here while I did this, and it wasn’t lost on me that I never wanted the same with Ian.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“For what?” He looked a little confused by my gratitude.

“For being here with me.” I squeezed his hand a little tighter.

“Always, Georgia James.”

I continued looking around the house but refused to leave the living room just yet.

“You okay?” he asked, concern written all over his face after I hadn’t said anything for a few minutes.

“Yeah. Just taking it all in, you know?” I replied. “I guess I never expected Jack to still own this house, and I definitely wouldn’t have thought he’d keep it the exact same.”

“I’m going to start the coffee while you give yourself a minute. If you need me, I’m here,” he said as he meandered into the kitchen.

Slowly walking through the living room, I made my way down the narrow hall that led to all three bedrooms. The hallway was tiny, but Mom always knew how to make things feel bigger than they were.

She’d redone the floors, a blonde wood that illuminated the space against the purest white walls that brought light to the hallway, making it feel much more open. The same worn, blue and gray rug laid beneath our feet. At the end of the hall, Mom and Jack’s room was on the left and both Fletcher’s and my room were on the right, connected by a bathroom.

I opened his door first and immediately regretted my decision. Per the rest of the house, Fletch’s room was identical to the last time he’d stepped foot in here. His navy bedding, his queen bed pushed up against the wall, and his yellow and blue surfboard in the corner between his desk and bathroom door. He had posters of every surfer he’d idolized plastered all over the walls, so much so that you could barely see the wallpaper Mom put up when we first moved in.

Reaching over, I grabbed the picture frame off his nightstand. It was him and I standing in front of The Scoop, both of us with shit-eating grins on our faces as we held our ice cream cones—his cookie monster and mine chocolate chip cookie dough.

I could feel the jealousy I had of these two young and naïve kids swimming through my veins. The only worries they had was what they were going to do with their rainy summer days. If only I could go back and prepare them for what was coming, or at least give them a heads up to enjoy it while it lasts, because shit was going to get real. But then again, life didn’t come with an instruction manual, and maybe it was best we experienced things the way we did.

I slowly strolled through the Jack and Jill bathroom, remembering the days I used to yell, “I’m a teenage girl, I need my privacy!” whenever Fletcher was pissed at me for taking entirely too long. I would purposely use all the hot water so he didn’t have any, just because I could.

Looking back, it all seemed so silly now. Especially when I would have done anything to share a bathroom with him for just one more day.

I finally walked into my room… The room in the house that I was dreading the most.

This space was everything to me at one time. My safe place when the whole world seemed to be crashing in around me. It had held me when I was upset, kept me safe while I was fast asleep, and shaped me into the woman I was today. After Fletcher died, I spent the large majority of my time in here.

My white linen duvet with GWJ precisely embroidered in light pink thread was positioned smack dab in the center of my bed. The window was dressed up with girly curtains, and taking a closer look, I noticed my push pins were still in place, holding up the black blanket that I had hung behind the curtains.

I’d always needed my sleep, and said sleep needed to take place in a pitch-black room. I swore some things really never changed.

Everything in this room belonged to me, it was allmine,and yet it felt foreign to me, as if I didn’t belong here.

---