Gravel crunched under the tires. The sound of home on Cape Cod. Amy came to a stop at the back of the house and cut the engine. She looked out of the bug-spattered windshield at the neglected house looming before her. Weeds poked through the drive. She glimpsed more weeds from the rear view mirror; the entire drive was being taken over.
Amy didnโt want to get out of the car. The temperature was in the mid-90s. Thick grey clouds hung in the sky collecting water from the ocean. They would burst open in a downpour that still left the air oppressive afterwards.
She opened the car door and breathed in thick air. Of all the times of year to be doing this, she thought as she walked onto the deck. But it was the only time her older brother, Tom, would agree to. August was quiet at his work so August it was. Amy stuck the key in the lock and twisted it around a few times. Perspiration sprung onto her forehead as she wondered why she didnโt come down here on her own in April or May. Because she wanted it to involve both her brothers so that everyone had a say about the house.
The lock finally relented and Amy pushed the door open. Hot, dank air hit her nostrils and she recoiled back into the scorching outside air. She stepped into the family room and grimaced at the worn acrylic pile carpet that always smelled damp and earthy. Her parents had refused to get rid of or change it in their later years. Stains glared up at her, exposed after some of the furniture had been moved out when they put her mother into a nursing home.
In the kitchen, she threw open the sliding glass doors that led out to the patio and pool area to the side of the house. The only thing opening the doors would achieve would be an exchange of hot air but she hoped it would get rid of the stale, unlived in smell.
She drifted through the dining room and formal living room through the laundry room and into her parentโs bedroom and bathroom. Years of being a home had been dismantled to accommodate her motherโs move into the nursing home near Amy in Vermont. The bed was stripped bare. Dresser drawers were half open. Amy remembered hurriedly packing clothes back in February, not thinking any further than what she had to do right then. Everything else in the house could come later. And here it was โ later.
She wandered back to the family room and spotted her fatherโs reading glasses on top of an unfinished book. She ran a finger over the glasses and frowned as sadness hit her chest.
Her fatherโs accident had happened at the end of January. He had been driving to church when heโd had a heart attack that caused him to veer off an icy road into a ditch. Her mother had suffered a broken leg but on top of that had dementia so couldnโt be left alone. The heart attack had killed her father. The suddenness and shock of it all set Amy on auto-pilot. Hospital visits, funeral arrangements, then the decision to move her mother closer to where she lived so she could oversee her care and be able to visit while her mother recuperated.
Amy glanced at her watch โ nearly 4.30pm. She needed to pick up her brother, Tate, from the airport. There was still no sign of her older brother, Tom, who had promised to arrive early afternoon.
Tom was sitting on a chair on the deck by the time Amy returned from the airport with Tate. He thumbed at his BlackBerry and gave an off-hand wave. He loomed larger than the last time Amy had seen him. He bent his head back down to look at his phone and she could see his hair receding at the top of his head.
โWhoa, who got old, fat and bald?โ Tate said before they got out of the car.
โAll of us?โ Amy glanced at Tate.
โNot you.โ
โFlatterer. Iโve been plucking grey hairs out of my head for months now.โ
Tate sighed. โLetโs go see big brother.โ
They got out of the car and headed up to the deck.
Tom glanced up. โIโm trying to find a couple realtorsโ numbers. Iโll call them now and get them to come value the place tomorrow.โ
โHi, Tom. Great to see you,โ Tate said cheerfully.
Tom eyed him. โI waved. Do you want me to organize a welcome party?โ
โIf we decide to sell.โ Amy returned to his original greeting.
โWe have to sell, Amy. Who will live here? Who will look after the place? It isnโt practical.โ Tom flicked through his BlackBerry and sighed in disgust. โYou can never get a signal down here.โ
โMaybe Tate or one of the kidsโฆโ
Tate shook his head. โIโm California-bound, baby. Iโm not living back here in the cold winter with snow piled up to my neck.โ
โNone of the kids want this place. None of them are old enough to settle here. Then there is the money issue. Youโve got your head in the clouds if you think we can keep this place. Are you going to live here?โ Tom raised his hands and shrugged, his eyes narrowing.
โWell, since Iโm the only one who regularly visits Mom and sheโs up near me, no. Maybe she and I could move back down.โ
โYou canโt take care of her on your own. Dad used to say crime was getting worse. Someone tried to break in a couple years ago. Itโs just like any other place now. Itโs no haven anymore.โ
Tate changed the subject. โIโm starving. Letโs go get something to eat. Some classic Cape seafood. Then weโll all feel better.โ
โSomewhere with air conditioning and Wi-Fi.โ Tom suggested. โWe should stay in a hotel. It stinks inside.โ
โItโll be fine,โ Amy said, already tired of Tomโs griping.
โThe upstairs is a wall of heat. None of the air con units work.โ
โWe can sleep downstairs. Itโll be cooler. The air conditioning in Mom and Dadโs room is okay.โ
โItโs leaking,โ Tom grumbled.
They locked up the house and got into Tomโs car.
โWhere to?โ Tom started the car.
โItโs got to be Kreme โn Kone, best local seafood on the Cape.โ Tate rubbed his hands together. โI havenโt had one of their clam plates in forever.โ
โClams sound good to me.โ Amy agreed.
โDo they even have Wi-Fi?โ Tom asked.
โThen letโs do McDonalds.โ Tate sneered. โYouโll get your AC, Wi-Fi and dead atmosphere all in one place.โ
โIโm pretty sure Kreme โn Kone have Wi-Fi now.โ Amy tried to placate everyone. She wondered whether it was possible to have a meal together without worrying about the repercussions of no Wi-Fi or email. My god they might have to spend an hour interacting with each other rather than a phone or an invisible electronic entourage.
โIt better,โ Tom muttered as they pulled out of the driveway.
They found a table toward the back of the restaurant and slid into their seats. The table cloth was a plastic red gingham pattern and the wooden chairs captain style. Tom checked his phone as the beep, beep of emails arriving sounded.
Tate put a fried clam in his mouth and looked at Amy. โOh my god, I have missed this so much!โ
โDelicious.โ Amy dipped her clam in tartar sauce and savoured the texture of the deep fried batter and the briny ocean taste of fresh seafood.
โA benefit of the east coast, for sure.โ Tate rolled his eyes as if he was in heaven. He motioned his chin toward Tom. โYouโre the only one in the place eating a hamburger. This is a seafood joint.โ
Tom glanced up from his phone. โItโs what I always have.โ He sneered between Amy and Tateโs plates. โThe two of you are going to have stomach aches all night long.โ
โItโll be worth it.โ Tate crunched on the golden coating of the clam and beamed a smile at Tom, who already had his eyes back on his phone.
โLetโs just eat and get back. There is a lot of packing to do. With all the crap I saw when I walked through the house before you got back from the airport we arenโt going to finish it all on this trip.โ Tom set down his phone.
Amy dropped her fork and looked up at Tom. โYou canโt call their stuff โcrap.โ She thought of all the cookbooks, books, photos, CDs and knick-knacks that filled the rooms.
He waved her comment away. โWhatever. It needs to get packed up and there is a lot of it.โ
โWe need to stop at Four Seas and get an ice cream on the way home,โ Tate said between mouthfuls of clams.
โThe line on a Friday night will be ridiculous,โ Tom said.
Tate grabbed Amyโs arm. โA triple scoop peanut butter chip chocolate cone. Huh? Are you in?โ
Amy laughed. โI think my guts might burst.โ
โCโmon, we have to make the most of what makes this place great and the seafood and ice cream are two. If we go to the beach and eat the cone then itโs a trifecta. Weโll stop off at CVS and get some Pepto-Bismol. We can do this!โ
โWe need to deal with the house not swan around the Cape like weโre tourists.โ Tom devoured his hamburger in four bites.
Amy caught Tateโs look and they both sat back to enjoy the rest of their clam platter.
Tate balanced his ice cream cone in one hand and pulled the radio on the kitchen counter toward him. โLook at this! An actual radio with an antenna. This is old school awesomeness.โ He turned it on and it crackled. โI bet itโs on AM. Mom and Dad were totally AM.โ He studied the buttons on top of the radio and flicked it over to FM. He twiddled the dial until music came blaring out. He turned to Amy and laughed. โHey, how โbout that!โ
โI feel like Iโve been warped back to the 70โs. This kitchen, that music.โ
โHey, donโt fight it. Any station that still plays Pink Floyd has got to be worth listening to. Forget all that canned garbage on the airwaves these days.โ He handed her his cone and started playing air guitar.
Amy swayed back and forth with the cone held in the air like a lighter.
Tom lumbered into the kitchen, wiping sweat from his forehead. โI packed most of the clothes in suitcases. They can all go to the Salvation Army. Itโs stifling upstairs even with the windows open.โ
Tate carried on jamming on thin air.
โIโm glad this is a goddamn game to you two. There hasnโt been much packing going on in here.โ Tom motioned around the kitchen.
โWe only just started,โ Amy replied defensively. โWeโve been clearing the cupboards in the dining room.โ
โGet packing. Weโre not here for a good time.โ
Tate stopped playing guitar. โWith you around thatโs for sure.โ
Tom turned and pointed a finger into Tateโs chest. โMaybe if you took things seriously and got down to some hard work for a change. All this hippy, dope smoking bullshit youโve always pulled. Disappearing to California to be some rock star and what are you – some crappy sound engineer. How do you even make a living out of that?โ
โOh, so I shouldโve followed in your footsteps and become some Walter Mitty travelling salesman all around New York. Thatโs a better living – selling insurance. Least Iโm true to myself.โ
โYouโre full of shit.โ
โNo, you are. Always telling people what to do.โ
โLetโs get back to packing.โ Amy tried to intervene.
โYes, letโs just pretend weโre one big happy family, Amy. Letโs keep up the fairy tale of this place and our family.โ Tom took a bottle of Coke out of the fridge, took a long drink then belched. Sweat trickled down his face.
โLay off her. Sheโs done more for Mom and Dad than both of us and you live closer. New York isnโt a million miles from the Cape.โ
โOh, so youโre in the clear because you live in California. Distance doesnโt absolve you from responsibility.โ
โLetโs just drop this,โ Amy mumbled. She looked at the counter and noticed the Formica peeling away from the edge exposing the chipboard underneath.
โNo, letโs have this out.โ Tom stood like a mountain in front of them, immovable, implacable, just like when they played tag football as kids. He would never relent or play nice then either.
โYouโre never around. When was the last time you saw Mom? When did you last see Dad before the accident?โ Amy rounded on Tom.
โOh, here we go. Weโre done with this place. Weโre selling and Iโm not going to listen to your pie-in-the-sky reasons for keeping it.โ Tom turned to walk out of the kitchen. โThe sooner I can get the hell away from you two the better.โ
Amy and Tate looked at each other in silence, eyebrows arched. The radio blasted from its tinny speakers Starship singing about how they built their city on rock and roll.
Amy shook her head and stepped out onto the patio. The slate was still warm under her bare feet. The sun-bleached pool cover bobbed forlornly. She dreaded to think what the water looked like covered over for as long as it had been. Their parents had given up on the pool three years ago but never drained it.
โHey.โ Tate stood next to her and handed her a beer. โDonโt listen to him. Heโs an ass.โ
Amy motioned to the house, lights glowing from all the windows. โThis place could be something again. It could be a great summer place for the family.โ
Tate nodded and sighed. โIt could. It could also be great for a new family.โ
โYou think we should sell too?โ
Tate shrugged and took a swig of his beer. โI think we all had our time here and now itโs time to let someone else breathe new life into it or โsink their life savings into this money pitโ, as Dad termed it.โ
โBut he didnโt mean it.โ
โHe kind of did. Itโs an old beast, Amy. The plumbing, the heating, the septic tank, the kitchen โ it all needs to get ripped out and redone. Dad knew but itโs a huge cost. Thatโs why he never did it. He wouldnโt want us to carry that burden. โ
โDid he talk to you about all this?โ
โSometimes. He would huff and puff about all the work the place needed but how he wanted to travel more, come out to California with Mom and visit for the winter. He talked about renting a place out there.โ
โI never knew that. I thought they loved it here.โ
โItโs changed a lot since they first moved down here – more tourists, more traffic, more noise. He wasnโt too hot on all the Brazilians moving up here, either. That stuck in his craw. He blamed them for me moving to Cali, if you can believe it. Like me not getting a summer job on the ferries because of Brazilian cheap labour was my reason for moving to the west coast.โ He motioned to the main road on the other side of the fence. โListen to the traffic. Itโs endless day and night during the summer.โ
โItโs a beautiful place, though. Iโve always thought that.โ
โItโs a last century idyll thatโs being paved over by highways and malls. The New England charm is pretty faded if you really look at what the Cape is becoming.โ
โI always had this vision of lining the outside of the house with twinkling lights and sitting here on a summer night, a glass of wine, family, conversation.โ
โItโs a nice vision.โ Tate leaned into her. โBut you know Dad would have hated twinkling lights.โ
โWe donโt have to take Tomโs ranting decision as final. Weโre all executors of the Trust.โ
โNo, but we better get back in there and start packing up the kitchen. I just saw him glaring out the window at us.โ
Amy opened her eyes and glanced at her watch โ 7.18am.
Tom barrelled through the downstairs waking her where she was sleeping in the family room and Tate in the living room. โWake up. I have coffee and donuts. We need to clean up and get ready for the realtors.โ
She heard Tate swear as Tom turned on the radio full blast in the kitchen.
By mid-morning Amy and Tate had packed up endless books, CDs and photo albums and thrown out magazines and newspapers by the stack full while Tom showed the realtors around.
Tomโs voice boomed out extolling the virtues of a house he didnโt believe in.
Tate glanced at Amy. โItโs good weโre at least getting a realtorโs opinion and then we know what our options are.โ
โTypical salesman.โ Amy piled books into boxes wondering what would happen to them. She envisaged her barn back in Vermont reconstituted as her parentsโ house; all their house contents accumulating until the space finally exploded at not being able to contain anymore.
โLet him do what heโs good at โ bullshitting. We can talk about it over dinner once we know more.โ
Amy and Tate stopped off at the penny candy store after delivering boxes of clothes, books, and saucepans to the local church. The penny candy store was a favourite place of their childhood. Hours had been spent picking out hot tamale cinnamon balls, Swedish fish, jaw breakers, salt water taffy, candy necklaces and more. The aroma of candy and cranberry scented candles and potpourri mixed with the new textile smell of Cape Cod sweatshirts and the old wood of the 1856 Country Store intoxicated Amy. โThis place.โ She smiled as she breathed it in.
โLetโs hit the sugar high.โ The unfinished wooden floorboards creaked as Tate headed to the back of the store where row after row of multi-coloured candy was displayed in old fashioned glass canisters. They grabbed wicker baskets and started picking.
When they returned Tom was sitting outside on the deck. Tate popped a Swedish fish in his mouth and murmured, โBusted.โ
โWhile you two have been gallivanting around I decided on a realtor. Theyโll put up a sign on Monday.โ
Amy dropped her brown bag of candy. โYou have no right to do that. Call them back and tell them we havenโt reached a decision. Itโs a decision for all of us, not just you. Not just the one person who doesnโt give a fuck about anybody.โ Amy picked up her bag of candy and threw a jaw breaker at him as she stormed inside. โAsshole.โ
They grilled steaks on their fatherโs Weber grill for dinner. They all sat outside at the patio table and ate in silence.
โCanโt beat a steak grilled on an outside grill.โ Tate tried to make conversation.
Amy smiled but it didnโt reach her eyes.
Tom dabbed a paper towel against his forehead. Amy wondered when he would have his first heart attack. Anyone that full of impotent ire was bound to drop one day. She wondered whether it would be behind the wheel the way their father had gone. She looked back down at her plate knowing the look on her face was filled with disdain and that he would call her on it if he caught it.
They spent the evening in different rooms packing what they could with the few empty boxes that remained. Amy had resolved to come down again in September when the air was cooler and pack the rest.
Tom appeared in the family room carrying a box. โIโll go to the Salvation Army and drop this stuff off at the back door. Itโll save us going in the morning before we leave.โ
โI havenโt decided what Iโm doing with some of this stuff,โ Amy said tersely.
He let the box he was holding thud into their fatherโs leather recliner. โWeโre doing the right thing. This place is so out of the way now. It would be difficult for any of us to just drop what weโre doing and come down here to sort anything out. And Boston is getting worse to drive through.โ
โYouโve made the decision. Letโs just go with it.โ
โIf we left the house empty for us to use and something went wrong we wouldnโt know who to call down here to fix it. If we rented it out, weโre all too far away to keep our eye on the place. Iโm just trying to make a reasonable decision for all of us.โ
โI know.โ Amy picked up a mouldy Christmas wreath from where the logs for the fireplace were stored and stuck it in a trash bag.
โAnd yet youโre still pissed off.โ Tom sighed.
โI donโt have anything to go to the Salvation Army. You can go now.โ
Tom heaved the box up. โYouโll thank me for this one day. With all the shitty decisions youโve made in your life, Iโve saved you from one. Youโre welcome.โ
Amy whipped around to face him but he was already on his way out the door. Anger exploded in her chest and flashed into her brain. She picked up her fatherโs slipper that was tucked under the recliner and threw it at the door. It hit with a heavy thud and smacked onto the floor.
Early the next morning, as Tom silently packed his car with the few things he wanted to keep, Amy walked along the grass in the backyard, overgrown weeds poked through, brown in places, scorched from the sun and lack of water. Her father had diligently tended the grass. It had been a rich, dark green carpet, soft and tickly underneath bare feet.
Amy turned and looked back at the house. The fence, once stained grey to fit in with the Cape colour scheme, was now rough and weather beaten, cracked and splintered from too many freezing winters and blistering summers. The paint on the eaves of the house was split and peeling and in dire need of a sand down and fresh coat of white paint. She wondered when it had last been painted. She couldnโt get over the signs of age and wear that she had never noticed before. Now that the house was lifeless and devoid of her parents presence it was all she could see.
After their curt goodbyes, Tomโs car crunched resolutely out of the driveway and disappeared around the corner.
โWell, that was a happy reunion!โ Tate half-laughed.
โI wish it wasnโt like that.โ
โItโs his problem. Heโs grumpy and unhappy and whatever. He always has been. Forget him.โ
Amy looked back at the house, sealed up again, devoid of human care. โAre we doing the right thing?โ
โCโmon, letโs stop at the beach before you drop me off at the airport.โ
Amy started the car and pulled away. She swallowed hard against tears. Now wasnโt the time. The house receded; the weeds waved her off.
They pulled into the parking lot at the beach. Tate hopped out and headed onto the sand. He plopped down, facing the sea, his back to her. Amy followed and sat down next to him. Seagulls squawked overhead, looming low, waiting for food.
โThe beaches are like this in Cali. You need to come out and visit me.โ He leaned into her in that conspiratorial way he had.
โYouโd get sick of me.โ
โNot my big sister. Weโd have fun. Weโd get drunk and get Cape Codโs premier rock station from the 70s on the internet and sing all night.โ
โIโd like that.โ
โYouโre it, you know.โ
She looked at him quizzically.
โYouโre home now. Your place. Mom nearby. Weโll all come to you for holidays. Weโll even invite Tom and his family.โ He covered his mouth with his hand and said, โand hope they donโt come.โ
โYou think?โ
โI know. Home is the people, not the house.โ
Amy spotted two young parents with two young kids building a castle in the sand and laughing as one side disintegrated. It was their time now. For her, it was time to go home.
(4064 Words)
Comments
One response to “You Are Home”
I really enjoyed this story, Liz – thanks for sharing.
Does Tom have *any* redeeming features at all?!
And what were the ‘bad decisions’ that Amy made in the past?
Loved the final conclusion that home is about the people rather than the place – very true ๐