peek at the handle on his back door. It’s taunting me. Surely, he wouldn’t have left it unlocked. But then again… he did plan to come back here tonight. Maybe, just maybe…
I wrap my fingers around the handle and twist. To my equal delight and dread, it opens. Now I’m standing on the threshold, asking myself how this could possibly help. But he does it to me all the time. He comes to the pool house unannounced, sneaking through my window or an unlocked door. It’s pretty much the same, right?
Except I know I’m not welcome here anymore. It’s an undeniable fact.
I go in anyway. The door quietly clicks shut behind me, and I listen for the sound of life. I’d hope his mother would have more sense than to come back here tonight. After a few long moments, I’m satisfied that I’m alone.
I don’t have a plan. For a while, I just wander around the bottom floor, taking everything in. It’s clean and tidy, which I attribute to the housekeeper I’ve seen coming and going. Right now, the place almost looks like one of those model homes. It would be easy to think nobody lives here. In the darkness, it feels so empty.
In the kitchen, I examine the contents of his cupboards. There are boxes of healthy stuff like granola and oats, and glass containers filled with grains. I was sort of expecting Pop-Tarts and chips, but there aren’t any. The fridge is more of the same. Glass containers filled with ready-made meals. When I examine the contents, I realize my mother must have made them. It warms me to know that he isn’t going hungry because of her.
I check the clock on the wall. It’s after midnight now. Where is he?
I wander up the stairs to the second floor and hesitate in front of the door to the guest room. The last time I was here, I avoided it. But now, I’m wondering if I should have. Is there something in there that could jog my memory?
Sweat prickles my skin as I wrap my fingers around the knob. It’s just a room, and this room can’t have any power over me. Nothing happened in here. At least, not what I thought. But what did happen?
I fling it open quickly so I can’t chicken out. At first glance, it looks just the way I remembered. The bed is made with a soft gray duvet. The carpet is a neutral, unassuming beige. The walls are white. There’s nothing special about this place.
When I take a few steps inside, I pause where Landon and I first kissed. I remember that kiss. It felt like I was zapped by lightning, and I wanted it to go on forever. But then I got sick.
My eyes dart to the bathroom, and I hold my breath as I duck my head inside. Everything in here looks the same too. I can still recall how cold the tile was on my face when I collapsed against it. I thought it felt so good. And then… everything went blank.
I’m trying to connect the dots. But no matter how I examine it, I can’t figure out how I went from lying on the floor to that bed. Did I wake up and drink more without realizing it? Did I get so drunk, I just can’t remember the game we played? And why was Landon so surprised tonight? Shouldn’t he have already known I was still a virgin? What does he think happened that night we never speak of?
The answers don’t come flooding back to me as I’d hoped. I still feel strange in this place. My skin is too hot, and the hair on the back of my neck is standing on end. My therapist once told me our bodies remember what our minds can’t. I know it must be true because my body is screaming at me now. And as much as I want to believe nothing bad happened here, I can’t. In my gut, I still feel that humiliation and sickness. It’s been poisoning me for so long. It can’t have been for nothing.
In a daze, I leave the room behind me and venture down the hall like a ghost. I don’t even feel like I’m part of my body anymore. It’s just my spirit, floating through the halls of his mansion until he returns.
I check each room I pass. They are all empty squatting boxes of nothingness. And then, I reach the biggest room. Landon’s