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“Your mother said your father’s property is in limbo. It’s boarded up, and you refuse to take ownership of it.”
“I hired a property manager that I use to deal with issues relating to the estate. He mows the lawns and ensures that vandals aren’t setting up shop, but I’m letting it rot into the ground.”
“Why not sell it? Why let it slowly disintegrate?”
“That was how my father lived his life. He let himself slowly disintegrate. I find it fitting.”
“What does the local property manager say?”
“I pay him to mow, not give me advice.”
“What about the neighbors? They must hate having an abandoned house near them.”
He slows down for a tractor crossing the road. “You can’t see it from another house. I speak to the property manager on the anniversary of my father’s death, June fourth, then I have a shot of whiskey and forget about him for another year.”
I clutch my seatbelt and look out the window. “That sounds terrible, Alex. You should use a different date, like his birthday.”
“You didn’t grow up with him, or you’d have a different opinion.”
I glance at his rigid profile. “I don’t know what I would do. Maybe selling the estate would give you some closure?”
A short while later, Alex slows the car and pulls into a dirt road. “I removed the signage so this place can’t be found easily.”
We drive up the overgrown driveway, and I make it a point to unclench my hands. It’s like stepping back in time to an earlier era. There is an old Peugeot sedan rusting in the driveway.
“That was my father’s car. He always insisted it got put in the garage.”
I look at the overgrown landscaping. There is some unresolved anger here.
Alex parks the car and shuts off the engine.
“It’s creepy being here.” I turn and look at him.
“You insisted on coming.” He climbs out of the car and swings his door shut.
I get out of the car and zip my jacket. “You’re not hurting him by leaving this place like this, only yourself and anyone else that lived here.”
He crosses his arms. “I’m not hurting anyone, Immy. I might be saving others by not letting anyone buy this place. It’s probably cursed.”
I look at him. “I don’t believe in curses. This feels like neglect to me. You won’t be free until you get rid of this place. Let it become something else.”
He shakes his head. “This is how I imagined it would be. The caretaker told me years ago that his coffee cup is still on the kitchen table.”
I want to leave this place. Alex must have terrible memories of being here if he has allowed this for years.
“How long has it been like this?”
“Sixteen years.”
“And you were sixteen when you left here?”
He nods and walks around the Peugeot, peering into the windows.
“Alex, this is too much. It’s like you’re emotionally stuck at sixteen. You have to figure out how to get unstuck.”
He flicks his hand. “I’m not stuck. I’m choosing this. This is my giant ‘fuck you’ to the man.”
I cross my arms. “Life is complicated, Alex. People are complicated. He couldn’t have been all bad. He had you. I have no idea about his artwork or other relationships. But there had to have been good things.”
