Page 68 of Demise

I met with a realtor and placed the home on the market. I refunded my plane ticket and started driving around Postings snapping photos of the old buildings and of people I’d seen walking the south side since I was a girl.

I snapped photos of the alleyway where Danny informed me of Samuel’s impending proposal. The one where Danny asked me to marry him, even though he was doing it for the wrong reason. The one we ran to as kids and busted out windows together because I was a scared, dejected little girl.

I took photos of the old Laundromat and the corner store where we all used to purchase candy. Danny’s bar. The bar he’s owned since our breakup. There were so much more—the bums on the side of the street, tent city. And the river and shipyard.

This town may be run-down, and violent acts have taken place here, but this is where we grew up. We were raised on the rougher side of Postings. We’re south side kids and nothing can change that.

I found myself driving down the old neighborhood, and I took some shots of the fire hydrant that caused me to have this scar on my jaw. And then I parked the car and knocked on Ma’s door.

She hugged me tightly, and we spent a few hours together enjoying one another’s company. She even played a hand of cards with me. It was a good day. I haven’t told Danny about it, yet, but of course, he’s been busy.

Trying to frame Moretti has proven to be a challenge, but the man hasn’t gotten away with all the crooked shit he’s done this many years for nothing. He’s clearly good at keeping his hands clean.

I just hope Danny can find a way soon, and we can try to live a somewhat normal life together.

I have often wondered, though, what will he do when he is no longer in this lifestyle? Danny is not a nine-to-five man, and he never will be.

Yes, he still has the bar, but can we live in this town after he helps the feds take down a man as powerful in the organized crime world as Moretti?

I don’t think so. Not safely anyway.

Where will we go?

I sit up when we turn down a very familiar drive, realizing I haven’t been paying attention to where we were headed, too caught up in my thoughts.

I place my hand over my mouth. “Oh my God.”

Danny looks over at me. “It’s been a while, right?”

Nostalgia slams into me. “Everything still looks the same.” I gaze out the window at the lake and trees. It’s beautiful, but it always was. My mind plays memories like a projector. I see us as teens out on the lake in a boat.

I see the dock and I see a carefree girl running down it before she cannonballs into the water. So many memories. And they’re just ours. No one else was ever here. Not even Johnny.

“Does Johnny know about this place?” I ask, wondering if that changed after I was no longer in the picture.

Danny shakes his head. “No. It was always our little secret.” He winks.

Ours.

We pull up to the lake house and my eyes grow wide. It’s been remodeled. The boards on the front of the house have been replaced and the porch has been rebuilt. It’s beautiful.

“Wow. It’s like a different house,” I say. “Do you come here often?”

“It’s been a while,” he says, killing the engine.

“Right,” I say. Now I’m wondering who did the work. We both exit the car. The snow crunches beneath our feet. My cheeks burn from the breeze drifting from the lake. I pull my coat tighter around me. Danny steps onto the porch first with his bag in one hand and mine in the other.

He drops the bags, pulls a key out of his pocket, and unlocks the door. He has to knock the door with his shoulder for it to open.

The smell of fresh paint drifts in the air. He’s pulled the dirt-stained carpet up and replaced it with hardwood floor. I look toward the kitchen, noticing new cabinets and appliances. The sliding glass door is now French doors. I roam my eyes over the place. It appears as if an adult actually stays here from time to time instead of a young man hardly out of his teens.

It’s still hard to believe someone as young as he was back then purchased a lake side home. It wasn’t in good shape, but it was our special place.

“Where are we?” I ask.

He puts the car in park. “This is my place.”

“What? Your place?” I look back at the house. It’s older, needs some work, but it’s nice. It’s out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees with a lake view. I wonder what it looks like during the day. It’s too dark to see every detail.

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