The Boy

I have always hated moving.

Now that I think about it, I hate a lot of things, but one of the many things I hate, is moving.
The mere fact of having to keep all my things in boxes, and last about two weeks sleeping on the floor is something I do not fancy in the slightest. Perhaps, my inexplicable hatred for the changes is due to the fact that as a child, we constantly moved because of dad's work. I know, terribly cliché, but hey! It's not my fault.

The part that I really hate about moving, are not the goodbyes as it often happens to many. If I'm honest, I never had anyone to say goodbye to, being constantly moving had turned me into some kind of antisocial. I could not stand the strident teenagers, and in part, though alone and without a friend, I am eternally grateful for my father's work.

No, what I really hate about moving is unpacking.

Unpacking is probably ten times worse than packing. Not only do you have to carry the annoying boxes, but you have to rearrange everything. Absolutely everything.

- "Leah, daughter, come and help your father!"

Mom's soft voice echoed in the great room, drawing me from my thoughts. I sneeze a little at the excessive layers of dust that covered the place. God, this place is old.

My parents had decided that we should move to a historic home. Dad's obsession with old things had led him to buy this house no matter how distant we were from town, or that the only trace of civilization in miles around was an old, neglected dirt road.

Dad insisted, we had to move to a historic house. As if it were too much to ask to simply move to a normal house, in some neighborhood.

Not in the middle of nowhere.

The house had a facade of the Victorian era, it was that type of houses in which wealthy people will live. In short, the house was huge. Something very exaggerated for only three people. In its time, the house must have been worth a lot of money, now however (though I do not understand why) the house had been relatively cheap.

- "I'm coming!"

I left the house and found myself with potato, both arms surrounding a huge box.

-"Oh, Leah, good of you! A little help wouldn't hurt your old man!"

He laughed of his own comment and went on his way. Dad had never been a normal father. He was not the kind of parent who drove away the boys, on the contrary, he urged them to come. Why? I'll never know that. But I suspect that it is due to my apparent lack of friends in the seventeen years that I have lived under his roof.

But I had never been social, the social had been her.
No matter how many times we moved, we always managed to get a lot of friends. That was Cathryn, a social butterfly.

With a bit of laziness, I take a couple of small boxes and take them to my room. I repeated the same action a couple of times until all my boxes were piled up on the floor of my new room.
With a frustrated snort from me, I stepped out of the dusty room. I ran down the stairs, the wooden steps creak under my feet. My footprints are imprinted on the dusty floor.

Disgusting dust

When I reached the foyer, I saw the great chandelier hovering above my head. Motes of dust flying in the air, thanks to the light that gushed through the large windows, I could see the dust dancing silently.

-"Damn old, filthy house!"
- "Leah, the language"

I turned surprised to meet Mom. Her blond hair was tucked into a bun, several boxes on the floor next to her.

- "You should help me order the dishes"

I give her a fake smile

- "Of course mother"

With some disgust, I crouch down and took one of the boxes that read 'crockery'
I followed my mother to the kitchen where she pointed to a cabinet.

- "Put them all there"

I nodded quietly and grumpily put the box on the counter, I slowly opened the cabinet only to find it was covered with dust.

Disgusting dust

"Couldn't the old owners clean this old dump before leaving?" I wrinkled my nose because of the amount of dust in the cabinet

- "The house has been empty for many years Leah, been on sale for a long time" I pursed my lips still annoyed by the dust

- "What a strange house" Mom frowned.

-"Rare, not old. It was built in 1923, remember?" I rolled my eyes

- "Of course I remember, dad kept talking about it for a week"

I still do not believe we moved into a fucking ninety-one-year-old house.

It was not difficult to believe that the house belonged to nearly a past century, the exterior was made of gray stones that gave the feeling of being in a Jane Austen novel.

That last I murmured to myself. My parents were what could be called 'over protective and rare'. They treated me like a glass figurine. I did not like being treated that way. Their already intensive care worsened after my suicide attempt, which is why they thought it convenient to move to Maine.

As if the demons who attacked me internally in Florida were to disappear in Maine.

Especially in this depressing little town

Blackwood, Maine was anything but gay. If anything inspired me to commit suicide again, it would be the sad, gray town of Blackwood, Maine.

***

After an intense day of cleaning and accommodating objects, my room had stopped being dirty and dusty. With everything clean, I prepared to cover my bed with a purple mattress cover and a duvet of the same color.

Exhausted by all the work I collapsed on the bed and let out a long sigh, a soft touch on the door frightened me.

-"Pass!"

Mom's blonde head peered out from behind the door and her big pearly smile sent a shiver down my spine.

- "Dinner will be ready in ten minutes Leah, go take a bath, I'm sure you stink young lady"

-"It's okay"

Closing the door behind her, I took the boxes with my clothes and headed for the closet of the room. I looked at my reflection for a moment in the big old wooden mirror that had been in the house when we arrived, my skin was paler than usual and my dark hair was pointing everywhere.

For my not-surprise, the closet was full of guess what?

Dust

The shelves were covered with a thin layer of white powder. I groaned inwardly.

- "Damn dust"

I mumbled irritably, the dust had fed me up. I ran my hand over one of the shelves and left a dust-free path for my clothes, frowning in disgust as my hand filled with dust.
Ignoring the rest of the dust, I hung my clothes on the coat rack and started to close the closet when something caught my attention. Frowning,I took what appeared to be a small black velvet box from one of the cupboard shelves between my fingers.

The old owners must have forgotten.

And what if it was a bomb? Do not be ridiculous Leah

With a little fear, I opened the box carefully, to my surprise there was only one picture of polaroid and a silver chain with a cross-shaped pendant. The photo consisted of a pale-skinned boy who seemed to be adjusting his hair. He wore a beige sweater. Her hair was long, falling into soft chocolate curls down his forehead.



Behind it, a white grating and a brick wall that looked quite old.

I could not see his face completely, much less his eyes but I was sure of something: the boy in the picture was the most intriguing and attractive person I had seen in my life. At the reverse of the photo in a clearly masculine calligraphy were written two initials.




H.S.

Notes

*Quick note: when I use the word gay I mean "happy" which is its original meaning

What do you guys think?
How have you liked Leah so far? (Please do take in consideration that she has gone through some pretty rough stuff that I'll reveal later on)

-Sarah