Portal House - Chapter 15
Pepper's Encounter
PEPPER:
Rita and I half-dragged Gary to his bed and left his door propped open while we worked together to clean the kitchen. The crash we’d heard when we were in the driveway turned out to be all three of the windows in the dining room bursting at once.
“One of my mom’s boyfriends lived in this really beat-up old house with his dealer when I was a kid,” I said to Rita while sweeping up glass, “and, like, it was probably supposed to be condemned or something because you would not believe the smell in there…”
“Hang on,” Rita stopped sweeping to look at me in confusion. “You went with her on drug deals when you were a kid?”
I frowned, “No, the boyfriend lived with his dealer. I mean, I guess she could have, and I don’t remember. But I don’t remember her doing drugs; she just dated a lot of losers.”
I watched her face change, but not the way I was used to seeing when I talked about my childhood to someone new.
“That sucks, man. You should’ve been playing video games or hanging out at the mall, not being dragged to some idiot’s stinky house.”
I froze at her strange response. She didn’t say she was sorry or that it wasn’t my fault. She didn’t even assign blame. “Yeah,” I said, “it was kinda shitty sometimes, but I got to do normal stuff, too. That’s not the point.”
“Sure, go on,” she replied. “No, actually, I have a question.”
I wasn’t used to this side of Rita. She was typically so brusque and sarcastic. Hearing an earnest tone from her was jarring. I raised an eyebrow.
Rita sighed. “What’s up with that note your mom handed me? She kept spewing a bunch of garbage I couldn’t understand without any context. The only thing I really caught was that your dad wouldn’t be caught dead back in this house. So, is your dad our landlord or something?”
“No, what? Mister Jerry is my old principal from middle school. Besides, look at my mom. I mean, I’m not a biologist or whatever, but I’m pretty sure my dad would have to be the whitest guy alive. And probably more patient than Jerry, to be able to put up with her.”
Rita looked back down at her task, shaking her head and smiling. I started to feel like I’d missed out on a friendship with her in the year and a half we’d known each other until now.
“Anyway, so this dude’s dating my mom because she always had such great taste in men, right? His house stunk like a toilet. Everything was broken. It was like your stereotypical crack house in a TV show. Then one day, boom. The walls buckled, the roof split apart, and all the windows in the whole place shattered. Just like these windows. It turned out the foundation was so cracked, it was a miracle the house was ever standing.”
“Damn. That is the ultimate crack house, isn’t it?”
I chuckled at her joke. “Definitely.”
“So you’re saying … what? You think that’s what’s going on here? A cracked foundation?”
I shrugged.
Rita stared at me for a long minute, then continued sweeping. “Sounds plausible to me, I suppose. I can look into it in the morning.”
After she and I finished picking up glass, we used old shower curtain liners and duct tape to attempt to seal off the dining room windows until we could get someone to replace them.
I checked on Gary, who had already fallen asleep in his shoes, so I covered him with his hoodie and shut his door.
“Going to bed?” Rita asked. I nodded. “I’ll keep the noise down this time.”
I got ready for bed, making a mental note to ask Gary in the morning why his sister was suddenly being so nice. Or if she had a twin I didn’t know about.
I sighed, finally able to look closely at the note my mother had left. The phone number had a local area code. Her note above it was as passive-aggressive as ever. As if she didn’t know how significant it was that after two decades, I finally had at least a chance at communicating with my real dad. Not one of Mom’s temp boyfriends she tried to force into the role. I settled into my bed, laying my head against the footboard and staring at the ceiling. My chest immediately felt heavy, and my throat felt tight. I held up the note and punched the numbers into my phone.
My arms felt like they each weighed a hundred pounds. I laid my phone on my chest without making the call. Why did I feel like this? And why now? I didn’t get more than a slight buzz the whole time Gary and I were drinking. Of course, I knew to avoid the shots he kept slamming back.
This was something new. It came with a sinister feeling, almost a warning. I lifted my eyes to look up and behind me at the door, which I hadn’t left open. Was that Gary or Rita standing in the doorway? They were both shorter than me, though. I struggled to sit up, but I couldn’t move. The more I tried, the more I felt pinned down.
I tried to speak. “Rrrrrrrr…” I tried to call out for the only other conscious person in the house. I turned my head another inch, finally, and could see the doorway in my periphery. It hurt to look at, even indirectly. Something taller than the door, and solid black. It was all silhouette, no texture. I resigned to trying to speak only in my mind, weirdly thinking it would hear my thoughts.
I focused all my energy on one question.
Who … are … you?
Then I passed out.
To Be Continued…