Trauma for the Neighbors

My New Home

Chapter one

Ione Phaedra Davis

"Well, Mrs. Davis," Thomas Barrow, the man who used to own my home, drops the keys into my waiting hands.

"There it is, this has been a good ride.

Everything has been cleared and cleaned down to the bone.

Floors replaced, kitchen completely redone, windows updated, new doors.

" He looks back at the white brick front of my home and smiles.

"So many memories, but it's time for me to get on.

These old bones can't take those stairs anymore. "

"Yes, yes," He nods. "Good thing I started all those repairs, I didn't think anyone was going to buy the place." He continues to lean on his cane. "Now, that greenhouse, too much to demolish it, but I think you can make it shine like new."

"Oh trust me," I smile widely at him. "I plan on it, I've been wanting a garden of my own, some chickens and a goat or two."

"Goats?" He chuckles. "Good for keeping the yard manicured, milk," He sighs.

"Meat." Smacking his lips, he turns around and takes one more look before nodding his head.

"Memories, and now you'll be making your own.

" His transatlantic accent is musical to my ears.

"It was wonderful meeting you, Mrs. Davis, I'll be getting along now. "

"Yes sir, and thank you." I answer, watching him walk to a waiting car. A woman in pale yellow scrubs smiles and waves at me as she opens his door. He enters, giving me one last wave and then he's gone.

The black roof looms over me with three perfectly spaced dormer windows to see from the attic.

The second floor has four radius windows with black wooden crescent-shaped window shutters on each side.

In the middle of the upstairs is a square window looking into a bathroom, no shutters, but there is a non-functioning porch under it.

The first story features four rectangle double hung windows with matching shutters.

What I adore is that the whole house is white brick.

The windows, shutters, and accents are all black.

On the right side, there's the garage, separate from the house with brown wooden doors.

The sidewalk's grayish-white stone is set in a herringbone fashion, and slightly damp from its recent power wash.

The number 23 is featured on the left pillar of the front porch and the wide, glass French doors are clean and inviting.

My heart is pounding as I walk up the sidewalk and finally make my way to the front door. I can smell the cleaning supplies from the open windows. No need to draw it out! Opening the door, I'm greeted to the rich, dark floors and the expansive area that is now my home.

When I first saw this place, it was rank, dusty, and dirty. The men working on the floors stared at me as I asked them information about the house, I didn't understand then and I don't now. I love this place.

The stairs are right in front of the door, twisting slightly to lead to the second story.

Standing in the foyer, you can go right or left.

Right, leads you to the kitchen and dining area.

Left leads to the living area and downstairs office.

Mr. Barrow was already in the middle of construction and had according to the realtor, wanted to sell to whoever his heart led him.

I'm glad it was me. All of my furniture will be here tomorrow, and I'm having groceries delivered tonight.

I have my air mattress and pressing needs in my car, and I am ready to spend my first night in my new home!

As I wander into the kitchen, my phone rings it's my sister, Orlaya.

"Hey!" I say excitedly. "I'm here!"

"I can tell," She chuckles. "How is it?"

"Even better than I thought. All my stuff will be here tomorrow, and I am just—I can't contain my excitement."

"I'm happy for you!" My sister replies. "So all your stuff is coming tomorrow, I could fly down and help you."

Shaking my head, I sigh. "Ma'am, you are six months pregnant, sit down somewhere with my niece."

Orlaya scoffs. "Let me do things while I have time and energy."

"And do what?" I counter. "Put vases and dishes away?"

"Yes."

"Orlaya, I will hang up the phone." I state, only for my sister to blow her breath. "How are you feeling?"

"Restless," She replies sadly. "I just feel like I have something to do and I can't remember what it is."

Heading back to my car, I wheel my suitcase into the house. "Please relax, I'm begging you. You were always on the go before the baby, and you can do that after the baby." Grunting, I begin to pull it up the stairs. "While you're pregnant, I would love it if you could chill."

"You and Marco make me sick." She sighs. "Baby slow down, baby sit down, baby lay down."

"Speaking of!" Marco yells somewhere in the background. "You better be laying down!"

"I am!" She huffs. "Kind of, lounging is a better word."

"Orlaya." I sigh.

"I knew it!" Marco yells. "Give me that damn phone." I can hear them shuffling. "Ione?"

"Yes." I chuckle. "Make her relax, take a warm bath, go get a massage, anything."

"I'm trying, she will call you tonight." He huffs. "Don't you waddle away from me, 'Laya, hey! 'Laya!" He grunts. "Talk to you later, Ione."

"Catch her." I laugh before hanging up.

Brushing my teeth, I stare at myself in the mirror and listen to the sound of the building storm outside. I'm gonna sleep good tonight. I have my whole three weeks planned out. Three weeks of PTO to get everything in order and begin my garden.

It's going to be great.