My first everything.
I loved this house.
I had myself half convinced I was going to live in this house with Seth.
We were going to get married and be happy forever.
Being young and stupid is so fun, right?
I’m not in the dining room.
To my right there’s the living room and the big front door.
That door was always squeaky.
So when I had to sneak around with Seth we used the door right off the kitchen.
That’s to my left.
I shut the basement door behind me and walk to my left.
I go into the kitchen and everything is the exact same as the last time I saw the house.
The kitchen always smells like three-day-old bacon grease and fish.
So gross.
I see the door.
My next escape!
I creep across the sticky floor.
Then I hear a noise behind me.
Of course this can’t just go easily for me, right?
“Ididn’t mean to,” I blurt out as I turn.
Then I gasp.
It’s not Seth that’s standing there.
It’s his grandmother.
I can’t believe the poor woman is still alive.
She’s older, slightly hunched forward, looking at me.
Her small feet shuffle against the floor as she works her way to the fridge.
“Please don’t say anything,” I whisper.
Seth’s grandmother opens the fridge.
She pulls out a jar of pickles and places it on the counter.
Her hands shake as she wrestles to open the lid.