Jess
Everything had changed but the majority has stayed the same. New businesses had popped up, yet there was still the same coffee shop my mom and I would indulge ourselves with every Sunday. The matinee still played the same old movies and Mrs. Rivers grocery store still had that ugly mechanical gator I remembered riding when I was little.
When I left this place ten years ago, I promised myself I would never return and here I was on the back of Savage’s bike passing by memories I had of my childhood.
I was going to the only place I ever called home.
My mom’s house.
My childhood house sat just less than a mile from the clubhouse on a dead-end street. It was just a small two bedroom with a cute backyard on the outside of the small town where we lived. The house itself belonged to my mom. I remembered her telling me that no matter what happened to her, that when she passed, our house would be mine. That no one could take it away from me. I don’t know why I remembered that now. I wanted nothing to do with the place.
It felt strange. She wasn’t here but somehow, I expected her to come running out the front door when we pulled into the driveway, happy as she wrapped her arms around me welcoming me home.
Sitting there on the back of Savage’s bike, I looked at the small home and felt like crying. The house had seen better days. The paint was weathered, chipping and falling off. The pretty blue shutters my mom painted herself was worn and fading. But her pretty flowers that she planted to give the house some color were flourishing. The yard was mowed and trimmed.
“You hired someone to keep the yard up?” Savage asked, looking around the place.
“No,” I whispered, getting off his bike. Standing, I walked closer to my mother’s flowers, bent down and lightly touched the wildflowers. They were damp as if someone had just watered them. I could smell the fresh cut grass and when I ran my hand across the trimmed turf, I saw the clippings on the palm of my hand.
Someone had just mowed the yard.
Looking around my old neighborhood, I wondered who could have done this. Who would keep my mother’s yard up? No one had been here since she died that night. When our next-door neighbor Mr. Corbin stepped out of his house and smiled at me, I knew it was him.
Mr. Corbin was older than I remembered but then again, he would be. He was in his fifties when I left that night. Mr. Corbin had always been kind to me and my mom.
“Mr. Corbin?”
“About time you came home, Jessie girl.” His gruff voice said, making me smile.
“You did this?” I asked, looking at my mother’s flowers again.
“All of us did,” he said, walking over to me as front doors opened and neighbors, I hadn’t seen in years all walked out smiling.
They were still here.
All of them. Mr. Jenkins and his fluffy poodle, Bella. Mrs. Crane in her pink moo-moo and blue hair. Mr. Augustine with his red reading glasses and pipe. They were all here. All still alive. Even Mr. Fields who always yelled at me to stay out of his yard.
“You home for good, girl?” Mr. Fields asked gruffly.
“No sir. Just for the night. I’ll be leaving again in the morning.”
“But you just got here,” Mrs. Crane objected.
“Now Gloria, you promised. Jessie girl has her own life to live. She can’t be worried about us,” Mr. Corbin stated firmly.
“Thank you all for keeping momma’s yard up. It’s beautiful.”
“Your momma loved those flowers, girl. Planted every one of them herself. We couldn’t just let them die. He made us all promise to keep her yard pretty for you,” Mr. Fields said, looking at the flower bed. “Thought for sure when she died that young man of hers would come get you. But he never did.”
“You mean Toxic?” I asked.
“No dear,” Mrs. Crane said. “The one who always showed up for your birthdays and recitals.”
“That was Toxic,” I muttered, remembering him showing up drunk most of the time. I always hated when showed up like that, making a spectacle of himself and embarrassing me.
“That bastard wasn’t your dad girl. The other one was.” Mr. Corbin said. “Your momma loved him and he loved you. He never missed a birthday. He bought your momma this house. Paid cash for it. Even had it put in your momma’s name that way she would always have a place to live. He was a good man.”
“That can’t be right,” I said, looking at Savage who stepped closer to me as I shook my head in disbelief. I could tell even Savage didn’t understand what they were saying. Both of us knew Toxic. He never did a nice thing where my mother was concerned. He was a selfish, greedy murderer. I didn’t know who my old neighbors were talking about. They weren’t making sense.