It’s been 20 years since I last communicated with my parents.
It’s been 20 years since they kicked me out for getting pregnant.
I recall my father’s voice, the fury practically chilling me to my bones.
“If you leave with him, Megan, don’t bother coming back!” he yelled. “I don’t want to see you again! You’re a mess, and instead of choosing to be better, you’re choosing self-destruction.”
I left anyway.
That same night, my mother stood silently at the entrance, arms wrapped around herself, watching me leave. She said nothing; she simply let me walk out into the cold.
Instead of saying anything, she simply stepped inside and locked the door.
They never forgave me.
But here I am, 20 years later. I am thirty-eight years old, with three lovely children and a guy who has been by my side through it all. Evan and I were high school sweethearts, and when I became pregnant, I worried that he would abandon me.
“What about your football scholarship to college? You’d give that up?” I asked.
“Of course, I would,” he said. “Let’s do this, Meg. You, me, and the baby!”\
Despite everything, we created a life. A really good life. And let me tell you, I have absolutely no regrets. Evan works hard, and our children, Ella, Maya, and Ben, are all I ever hoped for.
But, here we are.
Happy.
My last visit to my parent’s place was five years ago. They went missing while climbing in the mountains. It was going to be a quick trip, presumably.
Only a weekend.
But they never returned.
“They went hiking, Megan. You know, the usual long weekend trips that they make? They left the keys here for me to feed the dog. But at the end of the weekend, they didn’t return.”
“When they didn’t come back, I reported it to the police, and a search party was sent out. The officers said that all they found were their abandoned backpacks on a cliff,” he sighed.
“No… bodies?” I asked, my voice threatening to break.
“No, sweetheart,” Mr. Smith said. “No bodies, no footprints, nothing. They were just gone. They vanished without a trace.”
The next step was to get the house signed off to me. I didn’t want to do anything with it; I just wanted to leave it there. I went to the police station, and the detective signed
off the file as a cold case.
For five years, the house stood empty. I never had the confidence to sell it, though. Something about letting go didn’t feel right.
Until tonight.
It was Christmas Eve. For reasons I couldn’t understand, I ended myself traveling to the old place rather than purchasing the additional butter Evan and I needed for the turkey the next day.
The house had been abandoned for five years.
When I pulled into the driveway, my chest clenched as I saw the house.
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It was decorated.
My heart raced as I got out of the automobile. How can this be?
The decorations were just the way my father used to do them. The same lights, same configuration. A lump formed in my throat. It felt like returning to my childhood as if time had rewinded itself.
The inside of the house smelt of dust and memories, but the main room…
The living room stole my breath away.
A Christmas tree stood by the fireplace, precisely like the ones I remembered from my childhood. Then I saw him.
“Dad?” I called.
It wasn’t my dad.
It was a young man in his mid-thirties, I believe. His brown hair was unkempt, and his face was clouded with tiredness. He wore a threadbare coat and his cheeks were flushed from the cold.
But the moment I saw him, I knew who he was.
“Max?” I whispered.
He used to be the small boy who lived next door, with unkempt hair and a toothy smile. However, he couldn’t have been older than me.
“I’ve been staying here. Just for the winters, Megan,” he admitted. “It’s the second year now.”
“I don’t really have anywhere else to go,” he said, holding his head.
“Max, are you homeless?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “My adoptive parents, the Smiths? They kicked me out, actually. It was after you came around about ten years ago, and my dad told you about your parents. I’ve had some rotten luck, and I guess they just didn’t want to care for me anymore. It’s hard, you know? Finding work. I was between friends for a while… but even they got tired.”
We both remained quiet for a bit.
“Why didn’t you get rid of the place?” he asked me.
“I don’t have any good answers,” I said. “I just wanted to keep it the way it was.”
Max nodded.
“Come home with me,” I said. “Nobody should spend Christmas alone. And anyway, I have three kids who will need distracting from the pile of Christmas presents at home.”
Evan and I have saved some money. It could be enough to adequately decorate the house. Max can move in once it is rectified. If he needs extra money, he can rent out a few rooms to boarders. It’s not much, but it’s a start, and I’m confident it will help him get back on his feet.
I’m not sure if my parents will approve of the plan, but it doesn’t matter. That house is no longer part of their memories. It’s time to give it a fresh purpose.
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