Chapter 8: It’s all gone
The gravel of the driveway crunched under their feet, a stark contrast to the boardwalk’s muffled planks. Jeremiah fumbled with his keys at the kitchen door, his laughter from the car ride dying in his throat. The door swung inward on silent hinges.
“What the fuck.”
His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut the night air like glass. He didn’t move from the threshold. Joseph came up behind him, peering over his brother’s shoulder, his body going very still. Isabel hung back, the plush giraffe suddenly absurd in her arms.
Joseph pushed past Jeremiah into the house. The overhead fixture was off, leaving the living room in murky shadows cast by the porch light. The worn, cream-colored sofa was gone. The rug their mother had loved, with its faded seashell pattern, was gone. The bookshelves stood naked and skeletal against the wall.
He walked into the center of the room, his footsteps echoing on the bare hardwood. It was a hollow sound. “Hello?” he called out, his voice bouncing off the empty walls. No answer came, just the relentless whisper of the ocean through the open windows.
Steven brushed past Isabel into the lounge. “Did we get robbed?” He flipped the light switch. The sudden glare was worse, exposing every blank space where a memory lived. The walls were naked, pale squares marking where frames had hung for decades.
The hydrangeas Helen had arranged were gone. The shelves were barren. Jeremiah stopped moving, his playful energy dissolving into pure confusion. “What the hell?”
He took the stairs two at a time, the wood groaning under his urgent weight. Isabel heard his footsteps echo in the hollow upper hallway, then cease entirely.
A door opened upstairs. Helen walked out of Susannah’s room, her blazer crisp, her expression composed. She descended the stairs with a measured calm that felt like violence.
Joseph stood frozen in the center of the denuded room, his eyes tracking her progress. “What the fuck, Helen.”
“I’m sorry this must be such a shock.” Her voice was steady, rehearsed. “I spoke to your father earlier. He and I decided it would be best not to drag this out any longer than necessary.”
Jeremiah walked into the kitchen doorway, his face ashen. He’d seen the upstairs. “I don’t give a shit what the two of you decided on.”
Joseph’s control snapped. “You had no right to touch anything in this house.” His voice climbed, raw and jagged. “Those were her things!”
Steven walked over to Joseph, a hand hovering near his arm. “Hey, breathe, man.”
“Everything’s in storage,” Helen said, folding her arms. “I made sure that everyone was very careful with every single thing. I’m just doing what I have to do to sell this house.”
“You could’ve said something.” Joseph’s hands clenched at his sides. “You could’ve warned us. All you wanna do is fight our mom.”
“Enough.” Helen’s composure finally fractured, her voice sharpening. “I’m not the one you should be angry with. Susannah could’ve wanted you to have it. She just wanted to make me the bad guy, as usual.”
The air left the room. Isabel felt the words like a physical blow. Jeremiah stared, his mouth slightly open.
Joseph took a step forward. The calm that settled over his features was more terrifying than his anger. “I’m so sorry that she was busy dying to make your life a little easier.” His words were precise, surgical. “You know, it sucks that our grandfather loved her more than you. But I’m not surprised.”
He didn’t shout. He turned and walked out of the house, the screen door slapping shut behind him.
The silence he left behind was absolute. Helen blinked, her mouth a thin line. Jeremiah looked from the door to Isabel, his eyes wide with a helpless, dawning hurt. Then he moved, following his brother out into the dark.
Isabel was left standing in the gutted heart of the home, the empty walls screaming, the truth of the summer finally laid bare and bleeding on the salt-stained floor.