Ronald’s side of the room was much more orderly. Most of
his “precious” belongings seemed to be confined to a couple shelves that hung
above his Rolling Stone’s poster where a younger James probably couldn’t get to
them without bringing the entire shelving units down. On the side wall, the man
could see that there were quite a few comics kept in pristine condition still
in their plastic covers with cardboard backs. A couple of hard cover books, The
Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer, Detective, stood on either side
of the comics to keep them from falling over. Over the head of the bed, there
was a .22 rifle with boxes of ammunition and air cartridges.
The entire room was almost
perfectly split down the middle. Each boy had his own dresser that stood on the
wall opposite the heads of the beds. In between the dressers there did stand a
small table on which stood a transistor radio. Besides a few of James’ toys
this was the only thing that stood in the neutral space of the room.
Above the table with the radio
there was a window that stood slightly open. The man could feel a slight breeze
coming in from the outside and he closed his eyes as he took in the smell of
freshly mown lawn and summer. He walked up to it and peered outside. A family
on bicycles was riding past the house, and across the street a man was mowing
his lawn; he waved to the bikers as they passed. It was a beautiful
neighborhood: a place that he knew, or where he could say he belonged.
He turned away from the window and
walked out of the room. Right next to the door leading into James and Ronnie’s
room led another door, so he decided to see what was in there. He peered his
head into that room and saw a bathroom and mild chaos. Immediately by the door
stood a sink covered in washcloths and toothpaste. In between the sink and the
mirror just above it, there was a metal tray screwed into the wall holding a
nearly disintegrated bar of soap.
In the middle of the bathroom floor sat a couple disheveled
and still moderately wet towels. Next to the sink, right in front of the towels
stood the toilet, the lid was closed and it looked to be fairly clean. At least
they’re not complete savages, the man thought to himself with a chuckle.
Across the room was the bathtub, a
porcelain tub on four metal feet. The brim of the tub was littered with GI Joe
action figures and various other toys. He thought to himself that these were
most likely the toys of James, if Ronald ever played with them it was most
likely in private and he would never admit it in public. The thought of George
or Dorothy walking in on him as he played with children’s toys made the man
laugh as he pictured Ronald quickly tossing the toys with a horrified look.
Teenage boys were above those sorts of games.
He walked out of the bathroom and
across the hall to the next door. As he entered the door he knew he was in
George and Dorothy’s room. To his right there was a king sized bed. The bed was
perfectly made with an ornate maroon colored bed spread complete with elaborate
designs in gold. Above the bed was a window with drapes matching the bedspread.
As he stared at the bed he realized how tired he was and wanted to fall into it
and curl up in the sheets. He figured that move would be imprudent though, he
didn’t know how long he had before the family came home.
Where were they anyway? he asked
himself. And why am I here? The answer to that last question didn’t come to him
as readily as he had expected. Every so often the reason he was here seemed to
be on the tip of his tongue, a feeling of déjà vu flittered around in the back
of his mind, but it always seemed to go away like an apparition seen from the
corner of the eye.
He stood in the doorway of the room and closed his eyes. In
his mind he could picture the exact layout of the room. He could picture the
matching mahogany stands on either side of the bed down to the designs carved
in the wood. He could see the wrought iron lamps that stood on either stand
that matched those in the living room on the end tables. The old-fashioned
chest that sat at the foot of the bed with the logo of the defunct British East
India Trading Company branded into its lid was clear in his mind, as was the
dresser that stood on the opposite wall. There on the other side of the dresser
was the door leading to the adjoining bathroom, and across the room was the
door leading to the walk in closet.
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