Chapter 14
Fourteen
Santiago
An hour later, after I’ve devoured breakfast and showered, I pull up in front of a two-story yellow house. The pale blue shutters need to be repainted and the flower boxes hanging off the first-floor windows need to be cleaned out but other than that the house is perfect.
Blair tilts her head up so she can see past the rim of my Gnarly Pines baseball cap that sits on her head, but seems to sink deeper into my sweatshirt as she glances at the house, then up and down the little suburban street.
“Santi, where are we?”
I beam at her but don’t answer her right away. Instead, I climb out of the truck and hurry around to open her door. As I shut the truck door behind her, I throw an arm out in front of me and announce, “Welcome to mi casa!”
“Oh!” Blair looks from me to the house in surprise, then smiles. “Santi, it’s charming.”
“I certainly think so.”
I grab her hand and lead her down the stone walkway to the front door.
I’m not sure why but my heart is pounding wildly in my chest. The closer we get to the house, the faster it races.
Unlocking the door, I quickly usher her in before any of my neighbors notice it’s not Rhett with me and then follow her in.
Once upon a time, this house used to smell like mother’s tamales. Now, it just holds the faint smell of cleaning products and laundry.
Blair removes the hat with her free hand and looks around, her eyes bright with interest.
“So, as you can see, this is the living room,” I tell her anxiously.
Blair nods as her eyes dart around the room.
I try to see it all with fresh eyes in an attempt to see what she’s seeing.
The eighties orange and yellow floral couch was never updated.
It had been Mom’s first big purchase and she had brought it with her from apartment to apartment until she and Dad moved in here together.
The oval coffee table in front of it has a pile of doilies Mom handmade to be used as coasters.
The built-in shelves in the wall are full of family pictures from nearly every year of my life.
What space isn’t taken up by framed photos are fun little knickknacks—mostly hedgehogs since they were Mom’s favorite animal.
The walls are painted a burnt orangey-brown and the tan shag carpet has worn down spots where traffic once frequented.
“May I…?” Blair steps to the right and half-reaches for a picture frame. She looks back at me to make sure it’s okay for her to pick up.
I nod. “Yeah, go ahead. Mi casa es su casa, carino.”
She picks up the frame and studies it. I look over her shoulder to see which one she’s chosen and smile.
It’s me, Dad and Mom at Caddawalk’s Fall Festival and Dad had just won me a fake police badge at one of the game booths. I’m holding it up to my chest, right where he wore his.
“You’re like a perfect blend of your parents here,” Blair murmurs. She looks back at me as she puts the picture down. “But now you favor your mother.”
My heart twists as I think about how Mom would’ve responded to that. She probably would’ve beamed at me but then immediately dove into how she saw more of Dad in my face. I can hear her voice now, dipping in and out of Spanish.
My heart squeezes in my chest. “Come on, let me show you around.”
I drag Blair through the house slowly. We move from the living room to the kitchen. In here, the walls are a pale yellow, the cabinets a dark, outdated oak. It’s not as big as the cabin’s but it was perfect for us.
“Mom would cook every night, no exceptions. If I brought a friend over—they were fed. If I was going out—she made sure to feed me first. Same with Dad. She enjoyed cooking. No one could complain about being hungry around here. Not with how much food she kept around.”
Blair smiles. “That was sweet of her.”
I take Blair to the back of the house next, to the large sunroom that looks out into the green backyard.
“Do you see the wooden raised beds out there?” I point to a few. “They were either filled with vegetables or flowers. The flowers would grow so big that, as a kid, when I ran around back here it felt like a whole other world.”
“Wait,” Blair steps closer to the glass to stare out into the backyard. “There have to be over fifty raised beds here. You’re saying they were all full?”
I nod. “Yup, she had a green thumb. So did my Dad, actually. I tried to keep up on it, but I don’t have the special touch needed to keep things alive…” I frown as the words fall from my lips.
“I’ve never been somewhere long enough to know if I could keep a plant alive,” Blair admits, still staring out at the now just grassy backyard. “It’s just, like, watering them, right?”
I snort in amusement, being pulled from my dark thoughts.
“It’s a lot more than that. Some plants are more sensitive than others,” I explain.
Blair hums thoughtfully.
I tug her out of the room and stop by the basement door.
“There are a few bodies buried under the floor down here,” I admit with a conspiratorial wink.
“Before The Hunt started, I managed to lure a few of my victims to my house. Not many—which meant a lot of traveling—but there were a few. It’s soundproofed so if we ever need the space, we can play here too. ”
Blair giggles. “Your neighbors never noticed an extra car in the driveway?”
“Naw, I’d just take their clothes and pretend to be them when I went to get rid of their cars.”
I tug on her hand so we can keep moving.
Next, we head upstairs. We enter the room at the top of the stairs first. “This is my parents’ room.”
Flipping on the light, we step in.
“It smells nice in here,” Blair says, looking around.
“That’s my mom’s perfume combined with a hint of my dad’s cologne. Every morning, they got ready together. Even if Dad worked the early shift. It always smelled like this in here.”
Blair runs her hand over the paisley comforter and then studies the small family pictures on the dresser.
“How is it possible that it still smells like them if they’ve been gone for so long?” she asks softly, looking back at me.
My face heats as I look away from her around the space. “I, ah, continue to spray their scents in here. That way, it feels like they’ve only just left for a date or something.”
I reach up to rub the back of my neck as I avoid looking at her. As I look around, I note that the nightstands and pictures need to be dusted again soon. I make a mental note to come back in a few days to do that.
“Santi?”
Turning to face her, I find Blair giving me an odd look. “Why are you embarrassed right now?”
My face grows even warmer.
“I know it’s stupid and a waste of money to continue to buy their perfume and cologne after so many years—I just can’t help it.”
Blair steps closer to me, her brows pinched and her mouth turning down into a frown. She comes to a stop in front of me and tilts her head to study me. My face flames hotter.
“This is a way to feel connected to people you lost, there’s not anything to be embarrassed about, Santi. I think that’s really sweet,” she admits as her frown flips and she gives me a small but warm smile.
My throat constricts as my heart shudders under the intensity of emotions that fill me. Unable to help myself, I reach up and cup her face between my hands. The contact helps ground me.
“Thank you, carino.” Trying to liven up the moment, I joke, “I guess this was the better option rather than having both of my parents taxidermied to make them feel like they’re around.”
Blair blinks before her eyes grow wide.
Then she snorts.
“I didn’t notice any good spots to put two corpses in the house, so good choice,” she deadpans.
“You know where the grandfather clock is? I could’ve put one there.”
“Yeah, but then you’d have to put your other parent somewhere else, and you shouldn’t separate them like that.”
I snicker. Then grimace at the mental picture, but then laugh at the absurdity of it all. My hands fall from her face as the swell of grief recedes.
“Since we’re talking about space, I haven’t noticed any space on any of the flat surfaces in this house,” she muses. “Your parents filled this whole house with love. From the trinkets to the pictures, to the books and everything in between—everything was clearly chosen with care to display.”
My heart hurts with how swiftly it swells in size.
“Are you okay?” she asks, softly.
I nod while my throat squeezes shut. “Ah, yeah. I’m good.”
Blair wraps her arms around my waist. She might’ve been upset earlier with me about the whole Ledger situation but right now she’s managed to put that all aside. I hug her back and kiss the top of her head.
“C’mon, let’s go check out my room,” I offer.
Blair takes my hand and I drag her from the room and down the hallway, passing guest bedrooms along the way.
When we get to mine, I push open the door and Blair gasps.
“Santi, look at all the posters of baseball players all over your wall!” She brushes past me to look at all of them. “Are they your favorite players?”
“Ah, no, not exactly—though that’s what I told my parents so they wouldn’t be weirded out,” I admit with a chuckle as I lean against my dresser.
“They’re who I had crushes on at the time.
Some of these guys were around well before I was even born but,” I shrug.
“A hot body is a hot body. I had to get a poster of them at their best to really appreciate all they had to offer to the sport.”
Blair whips around to give me a shit-eating grin. “Don’t tell me you plastered these on your wall to masturbate to?”
“Why else would people put posters on their wall?”
“And ceiling,” she adds coyly as she points to the three just over my bed. “God, I’m almost intimidated by your crushes. I really don’t fit your type at all.”
I laugh. “You have no reason to be intimidated—you blow them all out of the water.”
“Hm… You said you still have your baseball uniform, right? I could try it on to see if maybe—”
My gasp of delight cuts her off. Straightening, I ask, “You want to wear my uniform?”