Chapter Twenty-Five #2
Vivian arrived at my apartment Saturday morning with coffee and a smirk that suggested she knew exactly how this day was going to go. “I heard you need help finding a house with good vibes,” she said.
“Who told you?”
“Nathan called me. Said this was going to be the most entertaining thing he has witnessed all year and I shouldn’t miss it.”
“I’m surrounded by sadists.”
“You’re surrounded by people who love you,” she corrected. “And who are deeply amused by your suffering.”
“Same thing.”
She laughed and handed me a coffee. “So what’s the plan?”
“Six houses. Six different neighborhoods. All meet my criteria for square footage, bedrooms, location, school district, and budget.”
“And vibes?”
“That’s what you’re all here to help with.”
“Julien, I don’t know what good vibes means.”
“Neither do I, but we’re going to have to figure it out.”
“This is going to be a disaster.”
“I know.”
“A beautiful, hilarious disaster.”
“I know.”
“Can I film it?”
“Absolutely not.”
House One: Saturday, 10:00 AM
“What do you think?” the real estate agent asked brightly. She was young, enthusiastic, and had no idea what she was about to witness. “Four bedrooms, three bathrooms, completely renovated kitchen—”
“The energy is wrong,” Nathan said.
We all turned to stare at him.
He was standing in the middle of the living room, his eyes closed, his hands at his sides, looking as if he were trying to commune with the spirit world.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Trying to feel the vibes,” he said, not opening his eyes.
“And?”
“The energy is wrong. Too... sterile. Too cold.”
“It’s a house,” the agent said weakly. “It’s supposed to be clean.”
“Not clean. Cold. There’s a difference.” Nathan opened his eyes. “This house has no soul.”
“Houses don’t have souls,” I said.
“This one definitely doesn’t.”
I looked at Hayden, who shrugged. “I mean, it does feel kind of... empty?”
I looked at Gabriel, who was walking slowly through the dining room, his hands outstretched in front of him as if he were trying to sense something invisible. Or like he was pretending to be a zombie. It was hard to tell.
“Gabriel, what are you doing?”
“Assessing the spiritual flow,” he said seriously.
“The what?”
“The way energy moves through the space. Athena talks about it all the time.”
“And?”
“It’s blocked. The layout is wrong. The energy can’t flow properly.”
“The layout is open-concept,” the agent protested. “It’s very popular.”
“Popular doesn’t mean spiritually sound,” Gabriel said, still waving his hands around like he was conducting an invisible orchestra.
I closed my eyes and counted to ten, reminding myself that I’d asked for help.
In the kitchen, Quinton was opening and closing cabinets with a confused expression.
“Quinton, what are you doing?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I thought maybe the vibes would be in the cabinets.”
“Why would the vibes be in the cabinets?”
“I DON’T KNOW. I’M TRYING TO HELP.”
He opened another cabinet. Closed it. Opened it again.
“Are you... are you checking for vibes in every cabinet?”
“YES.”
“That’s not how vibes work.”
“How do you know? YOU DON’T KNOW HOW VIBES WORK.”
He had a point.
Fitz was leaning against a wall, watching everyone with barely contained amusement. He had his phone out and was definitely filming this.
“Having fun?” I asked him.
“Immensely.”
“Glad someone is.”
“This is the best thing I’ve ever witnessed. Nathan’s communing with the house spirit. Gabriel’s doing interpretive dance. Quinton’s interrogating the cabinets. This is gold.”
Winnie walked through the space methodically, her expression thoughtful. She was the only one acting remotely normal. “The bones are good,” she said finally. “But something’s off.”
“Off how?”
“I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel welcoming. It feels like a showroom, not a home.”
“That’s because it’s staged,” the agent said, her smile becoming increasingly strained.
“No,” Vivian said, looking around. “Winnie’s right. It’s too perfect. Too curated. There’s no warmth. It’s like a magazine spread. Beautiful but soulless.”
“No vibes,” Hayden added helpfully.
“Can someone please explain to me what vibes ARE?” the agent asked, her voice rising slightly.
“We don’t know,” I said.
“You don’t know?”
“We’re trying to figure it out.”
“By... opening cabinets?”
“Quinton’s method is unconventional,” I admitted.
“I FOUND A VIBE!” Quinton shouted from the kitchen.
We all rushed over.
He was holding up a dustpan.
“That’s a dustpan,” I said.
“It has good energy.”
“It’s a dustpan.”
“A spiritually sound dustpan.”
“We’re leaving,” I said quickly, before the agent could call security.
House Two: Saturday, 11:30 AM
“This one has character,” the agent said hopefully. She looked nervous.
It was Victorian with original woodwork and a wraparound porch.
“It’s beautiful,” Winnie breathed.
“It’s sad,” Nathan said immediately.
“Oh my God,” I muttered.
“How can a house be sad?” the agent asked.
“It just is. Can’t you feel it? Like it’s been empty too long. Like it misses its family.”
“Houses don’t miss people,” I said.
“This one does. It’s practically weeping.”
I looked at Gabriel. He nodded solemnly. “He’s right. The energy is melancholy.”
“The energy is WHAT?”
“Melancholy. Lonely. This house wants to be filled with life again, but it’s been waiting so long it’s forgotten what that feels like.”
“You’re all insane,” I said.
“We’re trying to help,” Quinton protested. He was already opening cabinets again.
“By anthropomorphizing real estate?”
“By being open to spiritual energy!” Gabriel corrected, his hands doing that weird waving thing again.
“There is no spiritual energy! It’s a HOUSE! It’s wood and drywall and plumbing!”
“Julien,” Vivian said quietly. “Your eye is twitching again.”
“I know.”
“Both eyes now.”
“I KNOW!”
Hayden was walking through the rooms, occasionally stopping to press his ear against the walls.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Listening.”
“For what?”
“The house’s heartbeat.”
“Houses don’t have heartbeats.”
“This one does. It’s very faint. And very sad.”
“I need a drink,” I said.
“It’s eleven-thirty in the morning,” Winnie pointed out.
“I don’t care.”
Fitz was still filming. “This is going on YouTube.”
“It absolutely is not.”
“It absolutely is. I’m calling it ‘Surgeon Has Breakdown while House Hunting.’”
“I’m not having a breakdown.”
“You’re having multiple breakdowns. Simultaneously.”
The agent was backing slowly toward the door. “I’ll just... wait outside.”
“Good idea,” Vivian said.
House Three: Saturday, 1:00 PM
“Okay,” Fitz said, standing in the middle of a modern open-concept house with floor-to-ceiling windows. “This one is objectively perfect.”
He was right. Five bedrooms. Four bathrooms. Finished basement. Large backyard. Top-rated school district. Within budget.
Perfect.
“The energy is chaotic,” Nathan said.
“Chaotic how?” I asked, trying to keep my voice level and failing.
“Just... scattered. Unfocused. Like the house can’t decide what it wants to be.”
“It’s a house,” I said, my voice rising. “It doesn’t want to be anything. It just exists. It provides shelter. That’s it. That’s the entire job description of a house.”
“Everything has energy, Julien,” Gabriel said. “Everything has intention.”
“Houses don’t have intentions!”
“This one does. And its intention is confused.”
I pulled out my phone.
“I’m confused,” the agent said weakly. This was her third showing with us. She looked as if she were reconsidering her career choices.
“Join the club,” I muttered.
Quinton was in the kitchen, opening cabinets again.
“Quinton, please stop opening cabinets.”
“But what if the vibes are in the cabinets?”
“THEY’RE NOT IN THE CABINETS!”
“You don’t know that.”
“I’m reasonably certain.”
“But not completely certain.”
“QUINTON!”
He opened another cabinet as I called Athena.
She answered on the second ring. “How’s it going?”
“Terribly. Everyone is assessing houses based on whether they’re sad or confused or have blocked spiritual flow. Nathan thinks houses have heartbeats. Gabriel is doing interpretive dance. Quinton is opening every cabinet in the greater metropolitan area.”
She laughed. “That sounds about right.”
“Athena, I need help. What am I supposed to be feeling?”
“Warmth,” she said. “Welcome. Like the house is happy you’re there. Like it’s been waiting for you.”
“Houses don’t wait for people.”
“The right one will.”
I looked around the perfect, objectively ideal house.
And felt... nothing. No warmth. No welcome.
Just space. Just walls and floors and windows.
“We’ll keep looking,” I said.
“You’ll find it,” she said. “Trust the universe.”
“The universe,” I said, “can bite me.”
She laughed and hung up.
House Four: Sunday, 10:00 AM
“I think I’m starting to understand,” Quinton said.
We were in a ranch house with an addition that didn’t quite match the original structure.
“Understand what?” I asked.
“The vibe thing. This house feels... wrong. Like the addition doesn’t belong. Like someone forced it.”
“That’s just aesthetic observation,” I said. “Not spiritual energy.”
“But isn’t that part of it?” Gabriel asked. “The way a space feels? The way it flows?”
“That’s architecture, not mysticism.”
“Maybe they’re related,” Winnie suggested.
I stared at her.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m just saying, maybe Athena’s right. Maybe some houses feel better than others. Not because of spirits or energy, but because of... I don’t know. Design. Light. Proportion. Things that affect us subconsciously.”
“That’s actually logical,” Nathan said.
“Don’t encourage this,” I said.
“I’m not encouraging. I’m observing.”
“You’re enabling.”
“Same thing.”
Hayden was in the backyard, standing perfectly still with his arms outstretched.
“What is he doing?” I asked.
“Absorbing the energy of the land,” Fitz said.
“Of course he is.”
“He’s been out there for ten minutes.”
“Has he moved?”
“Not once.”
“Is he breathing?”
“Unclear.”
I walked outside. “Hayden?”
No response.
“Hayden, are you okay?”
“Shhh,” he said. “I’m communing.”
“With what?”
“The Earth.”
“The Earth?”
“Yes.”
“The Earth is not going to respond.”
“Not with that attitude.”