The Wicked

Penelope goes to work the next morning, and I casually mention she should start looking for her replacement as she’s getting on the elevator. The last thing I see before the doors slide closed is her laughing at me, and it feels like it used to.

I busy myself with work, and around lunchtime, I start to feel restless. I shoot Serena a text to let her know I’m taking the rest of the day off, then I change into a bathing suit and head downstairs. The idea of spending the day in the ocean has me feeling confident enough to venture out to my old house to grab a surfboard.

When the giant black mansion comes into view, a heavy feeling settles in my stomach. Carson has a football game today, which means I can’t FaceTime Logan for support, so I just take a deep breath and park in the driveway. Everything is dark, like my father hadn’t been here for a while, and I hope as I’m walking up the steps that he didn’t change the security code.

I still have a key on my ring, so I slide it in the front door and push it open. Punching in the code into the security panel, I’m pleased when it beeps and turns off. It isn’t until silence washes over me that I take the chance to look around. It still feels the same in here, like a building that was supposed to be a home but ended up just being a factory for bad memories.

The same artwork hangs on the walls as when I was in high school, and the room smells exactly the same – like cleaning products and something manly that I could never figure out. It makes sense that the cleaning company would still be coming out here, so I make a mental note to cancel that when I get home.

I hate the waves of nausea that pass over me as I walk through the house.

It’s like I stepped into a time machine, back to when I spent years in this giant space alone. Sadness is present in my chest, and I clear my throat to get it to dissipate. The last thing I want to do is break down, but I guess I should have expected this place to trigger me. How could it not? This is where I learned all my terrible habits, this is the home I raised myself in, the place I learned what hate truly was. Hate for my father, the world, money.

Except now, it’s my name on the deed and my responsibility to take care of.

I take the stairs to the second floor and go to my old bedroom. The walls are still bare, just like I always had them, and my old furniture is in the same place it always was.

Going to my closet, I push the doors open, coming face to face with everything I left behind when I went to college so long ago – all the clothes I wanted to rid myself of. The designer t-shirts, the expensive shoes I never wore, the suits I purchased just because of the high price tags. There’s easily thirty grand in unused merchandise sitting in here, all the tags still attached, just collecting dust. I never wanted this stuff. I just wanted to spend the money – my father’s money — that felt like it was drenched in blood and lies.

It makes me so nauseous that I run for the bathroom and spill the contents of my stomach in the toilet.

Wiping the back of my hand across my mouth, I sit down on the floor and pull out my phone, typing a text to my group chat with Carson, Logan, and Levi.

ME:

Is it the wrong decision to sell the old house in LUX?

I tap my fingers on the screen while I wait. Levi is the first one to respond.

LEVI:

What’s the point in keeping it? We never go there.

Logan’s answer comes through then.

LOGAN:

We have a lot of good memories there, might want to hang onto it.

Another message comes through, this one a photo of a football field, number 6 throwing a spiral across the green. I smile, and another message pops up.

LOGAN:

This guy would agree with me. That’s where we all became a family.

I lock my phone screen without responding, then stand up and flush the toilet. My friends aren’t wrong – there are good memories here too. Movie nights, parties, family dinners, parts of Logan and Carson’s love story were written here – as well as mine and Penelope’s.

I walk back to my room and look at my bed, remembering the nights curled in my sheets when we were sneaking around my senior year. Running my hand along the nightstand, I close my eyes and breathe in the space, letting the memory of the second time I saw Penelope wash over me. We were so desperate for each other, even when we didn’t know one another – it was like something inside of me was reaching out for her.

There’s a smile tearing across my face when I open my eyes.

Pulling my phone out again, I send a message to Penelope.

ME:

Going to surf, meet me at the beach when you get off?

Walking back downstairs, I head for the garage, and when I flip on the lights, I find my Maserati parked under a thick, cream sheet. Smiling, I walk up to it and peel the sheet back, the light bouncing off the shiny, black paint. Running my hand over the metal, I say a silent hello in my mind, like one old friend greeting another.

In this moment I’m glad that I never sold this car, even though so many of my dark times were spent inside of it.

There are another four cars parked inside the six-car garage, and I walk down the line of them, trying to think of reasons to keep them. None of them besides the Maserati were ever really mine, but I guess they are now. I stop walking when I’m in front of the G-Class truck, and I know immediately that I need to keep it. Even though it’s six years old, I fucking love this truck.

I finger the keys that hang in a line on the wall and pull down the keys for the G-Class. I just hope there’s gas in the tank after all this time.

I open the garage door behind the G-Class, then unlock the truck before I get in the driver’s seat. Cranking the engine, I cross my fingers and hope it powers up. When the engine rumbles, I smile from ear to ear. Jumping out, I go to where I have surfboards hanging on the wall, pick my favorite one, then strap it to the top of the truck.

When I’m done, I run back inside to make sure I locked the front door, then I get into the Mercedes and throw it in reverse.

After four hours of surfing, my muscles are burning, and my face is pink from the sun.

Goddamn, I feel alive, though. There’s nothing like getting lost in the ocean, putting your trust in the strength of your legs and your board, hoping you don’t hit a wave the wrong way and fall under. Dragging my board onto the sand, I throw it down, then grab the towel I brought and lay it flat on the ground. I fall onto the towel, put my hand over my eyes, and listen to the sound of the ocean hitting the shore.

I get lost in the noise of the waves, the familiar smell of the salty breeze, and the feeling of the sun beating down on my skin, and before I realize it, Penelope is sitting down next to me in the sand.

“Hey, surfer boy,” she greets me, and I turn my head to the side to look at her.

“Hi, beautiful.” I smile at her. “How was work?”

“Good,” she sings. “I’m ready for a swim, you coming?”

She stands, ripping her dress over her head and tossing it down on the sand before she kicks off her sandals. I admire the tiny black bikini on her body and stand up. “I’ll follow you into Hell if you’re wearing that.”

Laughing, she holds out a hand for me to grab. “C’mon, handsome. I need some ocean.”

I follow behind her, my hand laced in hers, and she leads me into the water. When we’re waist deep, she turns and kisses me. Butterflies attack my body, and I wrap my hands around her hips. She pulls back and looks at me. “Did you have a good day?”

I nod, pulling her out farther in the water. “I went to my old house.”

“Really?!” she says, eyes widening a fraction with concern. “I would have gone with you.”

When we’re up to our chests in the water, I look at her again. “It’s fine. I think I needed to do it alone to really absorb it. I think I’m going to keep the house.”

She wraps her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “There’s not just bad memories there, and maybe one day there will be enough good ones to erase them. Plus, we’ll need somewhere to stay when we come to visit.”

She smiles. “Or live when we get old and smelly.”

Laughing, I dip down into the water to our necks and spin us around. She kisses my cheek, and I squeeze her between my arms. “Hey, so, I did something today that might annoy you.”

Pulling back, she gives me a death stare. “Oh, goodie.”

I laugh again, sliding my hands under her ass to squeeze her there. “I spoke to the HR rep at Monroe Financials in L.A. and we came up with a position for you there, since I know you’ll want to work when you come to California.”

“You think I would want to work for you?” She raises a brow.

I shrug. “I mean, why not?”

She snorts. “Because there’s only one place you’re allowed to boss me around, and that’s the bedroom. I appreciate the effort, but I don’t think that would work. Plus, unless you have some secret school, I’m not qualified to do much else besides teach.”

“I thought you might say that.” I chuckle. “So after I got off the phone with HR, I started looking for schools you could work at by my office. There are a couple great places I think you should check out.”

She narrows her eyes. “Tell me you didn’t call anyone or do anything crazy.”

Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. “I didn’t. You think I know nothing about you, Penelope? I know you want to do it all on your own, I just wanted to get some ideas for you.”

I stand back up, exposing our shoulders to the air again, and she squeezes my face. “Thank you. It was very thoughtful.”