The Blue House of 1478 (19) (Patreon)

Liza is always excited when I have plans. She says it makes it feel like she and Aadesh are in an actual relationship — with a real house, whatever the hell that that is supposed to mean.

I laugh when she bristles,

"You don't understand. You've never been in love." Liza frowns. Aadesh's only input is the click of his fingers against the game controller in his hand. "It's like playing house with the person you're going to spend the rest of your life with, without your annoying little brother killing the mood."

"What mood?" I scoff around a mouthful of granola.  I'm too busy reading over the excerpts of the life of the late Henry Maclin, which includes every tidbit of emotional info that his close family members have sent. With the jam festival taking a backseat to the prediction of a storm, Henry Maclin happens to be the focus of my memorial article this week, and Liza's angry presence has a way of killing every ounce of creativity in me.

"I'm trying to read. Besides, your wonderful fiancé just blew out some green guy's intestines, so what kind of mood are you talking about?"

"Jared, I need a health potion!"

"The romantic mood!" Liza snarls, shoving a handful of toffee popcorn into her mouth. She's got her bridal magazine spread out against her chest, her other popcorn-less hand keeping her spot open, "The mood of two people who are about to be married!"

"Jared, I told you I needed a fucking health potion!" Aadesh shouts, adjusting his headphones when I snort, and Liza swats at me, "Well, now I'm dead, you asshole. Revive me — I'm in bay three."

"Oh, the mood." I wiggle my eyebrows at my sister's fuming form, "I got ya'. Can't wait to be in love." I smile in the most smarmy way I can manage, and Liza hits me with a sequined throw pillow.

She's quiet for a moment, crunches on another handful of popcorn,

"...You think I should invite Dad?"

Our eyes meet, and hers look a bit sad — lost somewhere, a guilt in them that says she'd rather not. I glance down at the magazine in her hand, an aptly placed picture of a father giving away his daughter at the altar.

"I mean.  I know he won't step foot in Sleepy Birch, and — I know that it's a long shot, but...."

"Don't invite him." I look back down at my paper.   I can't help but think that the notion of giving a person away is absolutely medieval, but I reach a hand in her direction, regardless.  "He'll ruin it. Your day. The mood or whatever..."

"It's just that..." Liza overlaps my outstretched hand with hers. We don't say anything more about that, because that's not how we are.  "It might be his only chance.  Katie's never going to forgive,"

"That's because she's — we've given him enough chances."

A few moments pass, but Liza's grip tightens over mine, the sound of Aadesh's game playing beside us.

I think of my dad.

Despite what Liza thinks....

I wonder if any of it would matter to him.

"I know you don't like the idea of it, but," Liza is quiet again, but her voice is wearing an uneven mask of nonchalance. She closes her magazine, "will you give me away?"

"That's archaic." I smile at the ground — at a pizza stain on the carpet. Before she can become angry, spiteful, or bitter, I add, "Instead. Why don't I just... Hold your hand. Until I don't."

She smiles.

"Whatever."

—

Hunter decides that he wants to explore Sleepy Birch's supposedly haunted churchyard, only after it receives a minor feature in Paranews' last 'remote areas with surprisingly spooky tales.'

I'm less than enthused about the idea of treading into actual paranormal territory.  Still, Hunter has always been more of a go-getter when it comes to trying to confront apparitions and the undead, and that's probably because he's built like an impenetrable house.

"We're probably going to die.  Someone is going to get possessed, or we're going to take home an evil spirit who likes to knock shit off the wall when we're trying to sleep — it's going to sneak up in our peripheral vision while we're brushing our teeth in a steamy mirror,"

I'm trying to change the subject from Kia's rant about Levi's antics at the seaside party last week, hoping my real-life anxieties are bait enough.

They aren't.

"Poltergeists, spirits, and ghosts aren't at all the same thing," Hunter chides, but it's a brief bout of distraction before he nods back to Kia at the wheel, "anyway, that only happens to pasty teenagers.  So Theo broke his flower pot, and then what?"

"I don't think our melanin is going to save us."

"Anyway, so he broke his flower pot, and then Levi came out of the house, like half-naked, with this guy tailing him, right?"  She turns to look at me just long enough for me to give a reluctant nod,  "Okay — confirmed.  And you know what Theo says to him?"

Kia isn't very good at not gossiping about my non-existent love life, especially when long car rides are involved.

"Are you guys listening to me?  We're going into a haunted territory, and you guys are worried about McAngry Brows."

"Who is going to listen to you when I have so many juicy details to share?"  Kia shrugs when I pout,  "I'm going to install a second seat on your bike so I can come along to all of these exciting hot guy duo events.  I still haven't been blessed with the sight of Matthias.  Like, who knew?  Next time I think a girl is cute, I'll just dump water on her newspaper."

"Let me add on here that Levi said that under no circumstance, would he ever flirt with me.  I'm failing to connect the dots you've created."

"Theo's life is unfair,"  Hunter's nose is wrinkled, flashlight on a map in his lap.  There's no cell service closer to Adeline, and the GPS on Kia's phone cut out about thirty minutes ago, "like, I've been single for two years.  Two years."

"I told you not to tell him."  I roll my eyes, "You've jinxed it.  Matthias noticed me in a non-humiliating way, you told Hunter, and now the next time my crush sees me, he's going to mistake me for a potato.  My life of loneliness will never end."

Kia rolls her eyes, pushing at the hairband that's keeping her curls away from her face,

"You are not a potato, you idiot; you're single because you're living at least fifty miles from anyone your age,"  She taps her nails against the steering wheel,  "You totally reeled in Mr.Donley's hot reporter son at that one party. Remember?"

I remember.

I tense, pull back from where I've curled over the head of her seat, and Hunter clears his throat.

"...This is about me and my single woes."  Hunter interrupts,  "Quit pitying Theo when he has two male models laying it on thick, while I'm slaving over hotdogs to impress Ms. Daugherty's mildly attractive granddaughter."

"Don't hit on women that you only consider mildly attractive then..." I huff, "It's like you think you're doing them a service, cooking up your tetanus meat sticks. Get on a dating site."

"Absolutely not."

"Do you know what it's like to be a lesbian and fifty miles from anyone under sixty?"  Kia snorts, "you can't say, absolutely not to a dating site. I hate both of you and your whining."

"Oh, whatever."

"All I live on are photos of Theo's taken sister,"  Kia pops her gum and sighs,  "and I've never even gotten to see her in person.  It's a tragic love affair."

"She doesn't even know you're alive.  I'm still single, you guys, and I'm gay too — Kia, you absolute ass."  I laugh, reaching between the two in the front seat to turn down the music, "She's right, though, Hunter, you'd be so popular, if you lived somewhere that didn't perpetually smell of talcum powder."

I snag a bag of skittles out of Hunter's lap,

"What about me? Where's my emotional support?" His sister whines.

"Kia, lesbians don't exist in Sleepy Birch. It should be on the sign.  Residents: 400.  Lesbians: 1."

"I guess you're right." Hunter shrugs, signaling for Kia to turn left, "You wouldn't get it, Theo.  Even if you're straight, though, it's just weird when you've grown up with every single person your age. It's like," He shudders, "it's like they're family or something. All sexual attraction is lost.  I thought moving and coming back would help, but it didn't."

"It's weird when everyone is straight or old and not attracted to you," Kia shrugs, "I get it."

"Oh, give it up.  This is it, Kia — pull in here."

I suppress a shudder when we pull up to the lot next to Sleepy Birch's wildly out-of-range mortuary, the surrounding pines looking black with the oncoming set of darkness.  There's a lump in my throat that's becoming harder to swallow, eyes trailing the sliver of shine from the headlights reflecting on the surrounding gate of the property.

"You think we should really be going into a cemetery?"  I frown, folding Hunter's map for him, "You should've gone during the day for pictures, Hunter."

Alone, I silently add, because burial grounds have always made me uncomfortable — and something doesn't feel right about poking around in one, despite my fascination with the afterlife.

Kia turns off her headlights and props open the door,

"I agree with Theo," She zips her jacket up, "it's cold, and I have to pee." She shuts the door before Hunter's nose wrinkles.

"Uh, how about not, guys," Hunter huffs — opens his door, and I'm still stalling, slowly putting on my coat from the backseat, "James Hanford said that there's a spike in paranormal activity around eleven at night.  You never go during the daytime to places like this, I told you... Photos like that don't make it onto their website."

Hunter has his camera in hand, the ever-aspiring ghost photographer,

"It's too bad; it's so clear out today."

I stare, and for some reason, there's a chill on my prickling skin.  Hunter's visibly grumbling as he makes his way to the gate, and to me — it looks unnaturally large and foreboding.

"Theo — hurry up."  Kia taps on my window, voice muffled by the glass.  I frown, but eventually nod, and get out.

The door echoes when it shuts.