It was almost midnight when I alighted from the bus and trudged home. Lala barked enthusiastically, his tail wagging as he heralded my welcome.
Mom opened the door with a frown, her eyeglasses perched on her nose, wondering who would knock at such a time. I didn't call to let them know I was coming. I didn't feel like it.
I was numb.
"Hailey! Why didn't you call or send a message?" She drew me into her arms and hugged me. The sweet scent of honeysuckle and cinnamons filled my lungs and brought back memories of my childhood.
I almost burst into tears but I took quick deep breaths. "Hey, mom. Sorry. It was impromptu. I was lucky to catch the last train."
Mom shut the door behind me. My Dad sat on a sofa with the remote, watching a Lakers game. "Is that my girl?" He asked.
I smiled, perched on the arm of the sofa and hugged him. "Who's winning?"
He mumbled something my head couldn't put together and I nodded. "Are you okay?" He asked, his brows furrowed. He glanced at Mom who stood still beside the front door and then at me.
"I'm fine but I can't talk now. Tomorrow? Please?" I looked at them.
Dad patted my hand. "Alright, angel. We'll talk tomorrow. Sleep tight."
It wasn't six am but the sky was beautifully coloured with pink and golden hues. Wisps of clouds spread out the sky like a tapestry of warmth and beauty.
Dressed in my soft cotton pyjamas and flip-flops, I held a cup of coffee and quietly walked into the garden. The fresh scent of dewy plants and flowers greeted me. I stared at our summer house in the centre of the garden built by Dad at my request many years ago.
Photo by @wakeupkitty
He called it "my angel's shade".
I remembered how hard he worked for two weeks, every morning, chopping the wood, and nailing them to make the long benches. He also planted a huge tree beside the house so the leaves would form a shade.
When the tree started to sprout, he planted honeysuckle and ivies around it. They grew together, curling around each other and resting on the roof.
It was my favourite spot in the garden.
I sat and curled my legs on each other. I sipped my hot coffee. I took some deep breaths and the tears began to fall. My heart recognised this place —my shade, my safe place, my home.
The cool breeze filled me with soothing tranquillity and I realised I made a great choice coming back home.
"I need this. I need to heal…." I whispered and hugged myself.
I was tired of living in that house with Ashton, my husband. The nagging, the suspicion, the bugs on my devices. It was too much.
He'd gone beyond his extensive surveillance on me to kidnap my colleague at the office, Stewart David. No one could find him for days.
The last contact we had was when he promised to come by the house so we could work on our sales pitch in preparation for Monday. I told him I wasn't home as I'd gone to the farmer's market.
The police questioned the entire company because his sister had filed a missing persons report.
That was when I discovered his dismembered parts in the old freezer kept in the basement. I threw up my lunch. I was hysterical.
Ashton begged me not to say anything, at first. Then he got defensive that it was my fault because I spent too much time with Stewart and he saw the poor guy was in love with me.
What?!!
I knew then Ashton was deranged. He started to squeeze my neck and not in a loving way. I barely escaped.
The police took down my statement and drove to the house with search warrants. I didn't wait to know how it all went. I took the last train and came home.
The detective in charge of the case called to inform me that Ashton was in their custody and being charged with first-degree murder. Our house was barricaded with tapes as a crime scene.
I mourned poor Stewart. He was merely guilty of being friendly and dedicated to his job. Ashton saw something that did not exist.
How do I live with this guilt?
"That bastard!"
I gasped at the loud expletive from my Dad and realised I'd been talking out loud. He sat on my right while Mom sat on my left. She had tears in her eyes while fondly tucking my hair behind my ear.
It felt good to be home.
What I see
I see a fine and well-built summer house, surrounded by greenery and situated in the centre of a garden.
What I feel
I feel the summer house is a place of tranquillity where a person can relax and feel at peace with nature.
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