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The mysterious guide leads me to it and opens the door, gesturing for me to step inside. Trembling with a mixture of fear and excitement, I enter.
The memory of my father and I building it together the summer of my seventh birthday fills me. Well, I handed him the tools as he did all the work. Some of the fondest memories from my childhood revolve around this little house, the gift that was built with love.
We constructed it in the woods directly behind our home in Michigan. I wasn’t a very outgoing child and didn’t have many friends. My dad thought it would be a fun place for me to get out of the house and play in. The only friends I had were David Cordova and Maura Robertson and they both knew about my secret clubhouse. It was a special place from my dad, so adorable with its shingled roof, tiny windows and child-sized front door. I giggled the first time Dad stepped inside all hunched over.
I’ll never forget the day that evil monster that gave birth to me re-homed it. I was twelve and her excuse will forever be tattooed in my brain, “You’re too old for it and it’s falling apart. It’s an eyesore on our property and we cannot have that.” I cried as the people who took it loaded it up on their trailer and drove away. I’ll never forgive her for that. I was heartsick and the worst part was my dad did nothing to stop her.
As I repress yet another angry memory, I peer around noting everything is just as I’d remembered it. The tot-sized furniture my dad got is still there, the baby blue wood table he made and three little plastic chairs we picked up at a yard sale surround it. The Mickey Mouse Club dishes—all still there as is the tiny plastic kitchenette.
We’d each had our own chair, of course the dark blue one was mine, Maura claimed the pink one, and David the green.
Maura lived next door so we were friends before we could walk, best friends until the day I moved. That’s another thing to add to the never-ending mother/daughter issue list—making me leave my best friend. Maura and I met David in kindergarten and the three of us became inseparable. The Three Musketeers we used to cheer, though we were more like the Three Stooges, making mud pies in the forest, and then cooking them on the pretend stove. Those were the days, not a care in the world and covered in mud.
Maura and I have fallen out of contact since I left. We shoot each other the occasional email, but both are so wrapped up with finishing school and moving onto life’s next lessons that we haven’t had much time catch up and that saddens me. Why can’t things be as carefree as they were when we were kids?
I remember the day we met David like it was only yesterday. It was the first day of kindergarten. His mom brought him in and he walked right over to our table and took a seat beside me. He looked me in the eye and smiled with his two front teeth missing. It was so cute that I snickered.
I learned he lived nearby, but our parents weren’t in the same social clique. David was my first real so-called boyfriend. I never even looked at another the same way I did with him and was devastated when he vanished. It’s something that haunts me to this day. I can only hope everything is okay.
We were in the seventh grade at the end of the school year when he got sick. His parents wouldn’t let me come see him and my mother didn’t want me near anyone who could be contagious. The next thing I knew, they were gone—his entire family. No notice, no goodbyes. I rode my bike to his house after school every day for a week, pressing my little face to the front window hoping to see him, but the furniture and everything inside was gone.
Disappeared without a trace.
I thought maybe he was mad at me or that I did something wrong. No one in town would talk about his family when I asked them. It was as though they never existed, though I knew better.
Remnants of mud pies still stain the dishes, just as we’d last left them and I smile at the happy memory.
Suddenly, I’m yanked from my dream, interrupted once again by the chiming of my alarm clock. How can a dream be so alive? So vivid? The scent of wood and fresh pine. Did I ever actually sleep? Sure doesn’t feel like it. With much fussing, I finally manage to get out of bed and into the shower.
Today is the last official day of high school with graduation tomorrow night. It will be wickedly hot, yet they still insist we wear the stupid cap and gown. They’re pushing for girls to wear dresses or skirts, but that’s not gonna happen. A skort is the closest they’ll get from me. Of course, my mother the antichrist is not thrilled with my choice in clothing. “It isn’t very classy or ladylike.” Ya, well, bite me. How’s that for ladylike?
Having classes today for seniors was not well thought out by the school board. Every class is filled with yearbook signing, posing for pictures and crying like it’s the end of the world. It’s seriously ridiculous. Kara and Anna both ask me to sign theirs which I reluctantly do but when I flip through the pages of Kara’s, I spot Luke’s note—‘Thanks for last weekend’ with a smiley face, ‘I’ll never forget it or you.’ The urge to write #Hurl next to it is hard to pass up.
I can’t get to my car quick enough after the last bell rings. Enough is enough and I’m elated to be rid of this place, though I dread practice tomorrow morning and the subsequent ceremony. They’re lining us up by size and since I’m only five-foot-two, I know where I’ll be standing. Story of my life since kindergarten—the shortest girl in the class was always in the front row.
Kara’s tall at five-foot-nine and stupidly beautiful. Light chestnut hair streaked with blonde highlights and emerald eyes. Features worthy of a European beauty queen. Thankfully, due to her height, she’ll be farther back so I won’t have to deal with her. Anna’s slightly taller than me at five-foot-five. She’s kind of pudgy with blonde hair and brown eyes. She’s nice, but unfortunately, she’s so far up Kara’s ass she can’t see daylight and Kara uses her as a puppet. Poor thing’s too blinded by her insecurities to see this. I’ve never felt the need to fit in. I’m quite the opposite and prefer to be left alone.
I head straight to work and find the dry cleaner packed with orders due to tomorrow night’s ceremonies at the area schools. Luckily, we are so busy my shift flies by. As I ring up our last customer, I glance out the front windows and toward my car and see someone standing beside it. I turn to Leah and Cole and point to the area.
“Do you see that guy?” I asked them.
With a great amount of attitude, they quit texting long enough to look up. “We don’t see anything. You’re losing it, Jess.” They roll their eyes and return to their phones. When I turn back around, he’s gone. Am I imagining this?
On the drive home, I wonder if what I’m seeing is real or if my mind’s playing tricks on me. I know I’m not sleeping worth a shit, but I don’t believe my judgment is impaired. But why the hell isn’t anyone else seeing him?
When I get home I walk into the usual scene. Dad watching sports news with my dogs and Mom is upstairs doing who knows what.
“You look exhausted, Jess,” Dad says as I walk up to him.
“I am,” I get the dogs’ attention, kiss Dad goodnight then head upstairs to take a quick shower and collapse into bed. Sure enough, I’m dropped right where the previous night’s dream left off.
The significance of my playhouse is lost on me. Desperate to see who my captor is, I find his silhouette bears a remarkable resemblance to the man I’ve seen in the shadows while awake. I want to speak, to ask who he is, but words escape me.
What in the hell is going on?
The shrill whistle of my alarm blares as I wake to graduation day. I’m so ready for this to be over. Practice is in an hour and I hope everyone conducts themselves appropriately even though I doubt that will happen. The longer they screw around the longer practice will take.
As anticipated, the usual class clowns screw around until everyone yells, “KNOCK IT OFF” in unison at them. That stops them dead in their tracks, as they stare at the sea of angry faces glaring at them. With that nightmare finally behind me, I head to the mall to pick up a couple of last-minute things and grab a bite to eat.
