1 House of Shadows

1 September 2021 - Homecoming

Because of the quarantine, I was not able to attend my grandmother’s funeral. Dante, her driver, just told me that they buried Lola five days ago. 

Yes. It has been five days since she died, but I would only get to see her now because I had been in quarantine even though I was fully vaccinated. How strange, these times. To live as though cattle that’s directed where to go or what to do. But whatever. There was nothing I could do. This was, as they say, the new normal.

“Ma’am, perhaps it’s better to visit tomorrow. The rain is getting worse and the pathways will be muddy and slippery,” Dante said in a voice that had thinned and turned breathy with age, waiting for me to acknowledge his decision before turning the car back.

We were already at the gate that opened to the cemetery, but we could barely see anything in front of us even though the windshield wipers were on max. It was raining hard, and the wind was picking up as well. I was pretty sure that we would be soaked to the skin right after getting out of the car if we did get out. I did not want to inconvenience him nor did I want us to get sick since getting sick even with just a cough or cold during these times was scary. So, I replied, “Ah. Tomorrow will be fine.” 

Anyway, there was no hurry on my end. I learned too late that Lola had been sick, and I got home too late as well. There was nothing for me to see in the cemetery except her tombstone. 

I felt pathetic thinking about that. I was her only living relative, yet I had not been there when she needed me the most. I really was the worst grandchild. The feeling of guilt that I had been carrying with me ever since I left home a decade ago kept growing every day, and more so these past few days than the past ten years combined.

“How is Ada?” I asked, pushing away the heaviness inside me with some friendly talk.

Dante and Ada had already been with Lola in the big house when I arrived there all those years ago. They were like permanent fixtures whose friendly faces also aged with the house. Ada was the closest thing that I had to a mother. Lola was more of a disciplinarian - the presence in the house that hovered over everything and everyone. Someone who was just there. I felt her but I couldn’t touch her. I couldn’t hug her or call out to her when I was hurting. I never really understood why. 

I was five when I came to live with them. I couldn’t remember anything much of my life before I was sent to Lola’s house. In my memories, all I could see was fire. I was burning. In pain. Yet I was paralyzed. It felt like a dream. Sometimes, I even delude myself into thinking that perhaps it was just a nightmare. But my skin carries the evidence of that moment.

I was jolted awake from my reverie with Dante’s small chuckle. 

“Sorry,” I hurriedly said in a small voice, embarrassed that I was caught not listening to what he had been saying.

“It’s alright. You must have a lot of things on your mind,” he responded with a friendly smile that I saw from the rear-view mirror. “It’s all going to be alright.”

I nodded and gave him a small smile that hopefully reassured him. I did not want him or Ada worrying about me. They loved Lola. Perhaps not exactly love. Loyalty. Yes. That was it. Although in my young eyes, I believed their actions as borne out of love and not loyalty. That was what I saw as a child. I had been quite the optimist. Now, I thought that perhaps it was both because one could not be loyal to another for years and years without any form of love involved, right?

I guess their loyalty for her also extended to me, which made me feel even more guilty because I felt as though I did not deserve any of that love or even loyalty. I'd have preferred for them to treat me nonchalantly instead of with warmth. All these years, I pretended to be alone. I worked hard at forgetting the life I had here. For them to treat me like a long lost loved one after years of no communication, without even a short 'How are you?' only fueled my guilt.

With all the things going on in my head, I hardly noticed that we had arrived. I blinked my eyes as though the mundane act would help me focus on the present and chase away the memories that were fogging my sight. 

Dante had stopped the car in front of the familiar gigantic black iron gate that led towards the house. I couldn’t see it yet from the road, but the feeling of foreboding was already creeping inside my bones. I took a deep breath as I watched Dante open the door to his side and hurriedly approach the side of the gate where he punched a series of numbers on what looked to me as a built-in automatic gate opener that largely resembled the keypad of an ATM machine. 

Well, that’s a new addition. I said to myself as my eyes followed Dante's quick movements towards the car while the gate opened slowly, creaking and groaning as though it was such a tedious job to do so.

Dante was soaking wet when he got back inside the car. I wanted to offer him a towel or anything to wipe the rain, but I had nothing. So, I just kept quiet. 

The rain was coming down much harder, and it lambasted the car on all sides. The sky was angry, it seemed, with the addition of the low rumblings of thunder followed by flashes of lightning in the sky. The wipers were almost useless under the torrential downpour, yet Dante drove as though he could clearly see the road in front of him. 

He’s been driving this road for years. He knows this like the back of his hand, I thought. He probably knew every stone along this path, as well as every dip or hole, if there were any.

After a few meters, the car was released from the seemingly angry downpour that entrapped us as the water cleared when we entered the garage. I felt relieved that I was again able to see what was outside the windows. But what I saw, even though familiar, made me catch my breath.

For a second or two, I panicked as memories of the past overwhelmed me. I never wanted to go back to this house as long as I lived. Yet here I was again,stepping into the belly of the wicked beast - this too-quiet house that made me feel all sorts of strange.

I am not afraid! I declared while mustering some courage inside me. This helped in chasing the feeling of foreboding away and gradually turning it into resolve.

I breathed deeply as I gathered my strength to again step inside this house thinking, I escaped her once. I’ll escape her again. 

*Fiction :)