Page 15 of Organized Chaos
All from one damn smile.
What the hell was happening here?
“There it is.” I pointed in the distance ahead.
The seemingly endless road closed in on our destination. We watched the cottage grow larger with our impending approach, a stone pathway leading us into the house.
Unruly trees and branches hovered over to add a tropical ambiance though I had presumed Dad would have changed the landscape by now.
I parked on the paved driveway, then grabbed my duffel and Maya’s suitcase. She scrounged for the grocery bags, following me to the front door.
After a momentary pause, I punched a sequence of numbers into the lock pad. The door opened, shocking me. I was prepared to call my family lawyer for the new combination, but it turned out that Dad had never changed the code either—my birthday.
James Cooper was a good father before his mid-life crisis. One day, he unceremoniously dumped my mother after knocking up a woman half his age. He started drifting into the background of my life until the day I found myself searching for Dad’s face during my basketball games.The way he faded out of our lives, I never expected such a sentimental gesture.
More peculiar was the interior of the home. It took several minutes to process the surroundings, a house preserved in time.
The open floor plan revealed textured wood cabinets in the kitchen with a granite countertop island. Log walls covered the living room with a chandelier dropping down the middle. The bedrooms were adorned with similar decorations, my handiwork.
My Dad’s family was tremendously wealthy. I was an entitled prick with a blasé attitude, deferring to the family money to sail through life.However, Dad was adamant in training me the skill sets he deemed necessary for every man. He turned the house into a family project, teaching me to fix it up with my own hands. Our craftsmanship reflected Mom’s taste—rustic mixed with modern elegance.
Dad never changed the renovations that summed up our family.
“It’s beautiful,” Maya offered, placing the grocery bags on the kitchen island.
Hit by the sudden nostalgia, I distractedly nodded, dropping the duffel bag and suitcase on the floor. “Mom picked out everything in this house, but I assumed my stepmother would have changed it by now.”
Carmen had erased all traces of my mother, redesigning every property Dad owned. How in the hell did this place survive?
“I guess your father didn’t let her.”
“No, he didn’t,” I acknowledged.
Dad preserved this place to conserve his former life, even leaving the combination code untouched. The small piece of reassurance brought me an astonishing amount of peace. For so long, I had assumed we were nothing to Dad except his forgotten family, that I couldn’t stop myself from reveling in the consolation.
Dad and I both moved on with our lives. Yet, we remained connected through this home in a parallel time and space. This cottage brought him solace, the way it did for me—a common denominator allowing us to reminisce and remember each other fondly.
“Dad left me this house,” I said absentmindedly. “Actually, he left me with almost everything. The lawyer sent me his will, along with a letter to explain. I haven’t even opened it.”
“That’s understandable. You had a complicated relationship with your father,” she assessed, eyes full of compassion. I wondered if she’d show me such sympathy upon learning the whole truth.
I restlessly paced the living room. “We should go spread the ashes,” I briskly muttered, overwhelmed by the new development. The weight in my heart dragged me heavily toward the center of the earth.
Maya paled at my abrupt tone, though she didn’t contradict me. “Sure. Where do you want to do it?”
“There is a beach nearby,” I garbled. “It was our favorite place.” Until I unburdened myself of Dad’s remnants, I wouldn’t be myself again. I had to scatter those damn ashes, then shut down all emotionally taxing feelings.
I needed to run away.
