The Fog Gathers

There is something strange about this house. It bends and warps with echoes of memory. The windows flicker like a movie reel, sunlight bouncing between the last few panicked leaves on the Autumn dressed oak in the backyard. I trace their shadows on the wall, pale jade, but it doesn't feel correct. A rooster crows, the sound of children's feet run past me. I turn to Mother. "I don't like this color,"

She wipes the beads of sweat from her forehead, combing back the loose wisps clinging like a flower crown to her furrowed brow. "No, I don't suppose you would." She is exasperated, but I'm not sure if it is with me or the kitchen cramped with half unpacked boxes. She lifts a muffin tin, noisily shaking the protective newspapers onto the floor. "You didn't like it last time, either."

Ah, so it is with me. My legs tense under her scrutinizing gaze but I say nothing. This is the first I've seen this place, did I gripe about the walls in our last home? I can't remember what colors they were painted when we moved in. I can't remember...

"What don't we like?" That man strides in, an open box of groceries balanced perfectly in one arm. The screen door slams shut behind him, a little too loud, a little too fast, I wince.

"Just my paint choice. Again." Mother fusses with more packaging paper. She pauses and places a hand to her forehead.

He leaves his box on the dining table, already stacked high with our clumsily packed possessions. "Hey now," He coos and turns Mother to look at him. I can't stand his hands on her hips. I can't bear to see him kiss her forehead. They turn and speak low to each other. "We're almost finished. You are handling all of this so well,"

"I just can't make her sit still. I don't understand why this color thing is such a big deal, that wallpaper was just so hideous. I couldn't have it in the whole house"

"I know, I know. She'll get used to it, just be patient,"

And, just like that, I'm invisible to them. Let them talk about me, I'm used to it now. It has been happening more and more, recently. I can't help but blame him. Every time Mother is upset he shows up and he makes it my fault. He talks about me like I can't hear him. What does he know? I barely know him. Perhaps it is my own fault he feels like such a stranger, I know he has been around for years, but I just don't trust him. I don't trust him with Mother. I don't trust the way he looks at me like a sick child. He smiles right in my face and yet I still don't know a thing about him.

Flustered, I distract myself with the boxes on the table, the cold items are already sweating through the cardboard. I lift the milk, heavier than expected, and start toward the fridge. If I'm such a terrible burden then I'll make myself useful. Several trips back and forth and finally Mother seems to have calmed down, no thanks to him. I have been doing all the work. They watch me for a moment until he finally leaves, hopefully satisfied. Mother sighs as I place the last can in the door beside the jelly. "What?"

"Nothing," She sits back down in the floor, gathering her previous mess. "I'll just have to rearrange everything when you're finished."

We all retired early. Dinner was something quick but at least it was hot. I wish Mother would have let me help, she does too much, but she doesn't seem to think I can do anything. I shift under the weight of my quilt. Regardless of how strange this new home is, at least this room feels right. That horrid paint didn't make it in here. The wallpaper everyone else hates managed to survive in this dark corner of the house. Perfectly dusty brown. Faded, dusk colored flowers. Just as it should be. Just how it used to be. My bed is in the correct place. My mirror is in the correct corner. My closet is on the correct side. My books are right where they always are on my nightstand. The windows are even on the correct walls.

I start to fade into something resembling a dream, distant crackling music wafts into my room, chimney smoke, ghostly children's laughter, and... A dog? I'm sure I just saw one out the window. I sleepily rise to a sitting position. Squinting out into the night, I see the dark figure sniffing about the oak tree. For a moment I am afraid, until the last of my dream-like trance fades. "Oh, Teddy!" I toss back my quilt in a panic, padding out of my room and to the back door. I frown as the chill of the night rushes in, but I step out onto the back steps. Why wouldn't anyone bring him inside?

"Teddy!" I call and pat my knees but he only stands there. He must be upset we forgot him or perhaps in the dark he doesn't recognize me. I step down into the yard where the flood light finally detects me. Tenderly treading through the dew covered grass I cry out again, "Come here, Teddy!" I give one good whistle and Teddy bounds toward me. The white teeth in his goofy grin bouncing in and out of vision behind his happily protruding tongue. "I'm sorry boy, I don't know what happened." His black fur is covered in dew drops. He looks just like the night sky but one vigorous shake dries him out. I pet his chilled ears feeling quite ashamed for letting him slip my mind.

A second voice, much louder than my own, rings out. "Mother?" I turn, a bit embarrassed in only my nightgown. "Mother, what in God's name are you doing?"

Mother? Oh, Mother is speaking to me. I grin back at her familiar shape approaching me. "I forgot about Teddy."

"What?" Mother wraps her arms about my shoulders, turning me back toward the house. Teddy's excited bouncing makes her slipper slide in the wet grass. "It's too late for this, let's get you back to bed."

"But I couldn't leave Teddy outside, we never let him in." She pushes me ahead of her up the stairs, Teddy's large frame squeezing past us both and disappearing into the Labrador colored darkness of the house. Mother sighs and walks me quietly to my room, helping me back under my quilt, and tucking in the edges tightly. I've upset her again. She mutters to herself while pulling my curtains shut. Teddy leaps onto my feet, curling into a tight ball. I smile, glad to have the tension of the silence broken. "Can Teddy stay in here with me?"

Mother turns harshly but softens when she sees me tucked in just like a child. She rubs her forehead, as I see her do so often. Lost in her own thoughts she asks gently, "The dog?" Perhaps it was my grin, or perhaps his bed isn't unpacked, but she nods. "Yes, Teddy can stay." She kisses my cheek and smiles, her irritation dissipated.

I peer down at Teddy as Mother closes the door behind her. I whisper, "Just you and me now, buddy." His tail thumps happily against my leg until I feel my dream start taking me back. Children giggling, a man's hand clasped in my own, and Teddy exactly where he is now.

The unpacking process went quickly. That man disappears everyday for work so I can finally help Mother around the house without his overbearing presence. Even still, the strange and haunting weight of this new home strangles me. I obsess over the walls. Their color is stark and uncomfortable. The plush carpeted floors are unnatural. The glossy appliances are alien to me. I swear with every passing day I feel myself becoming more frightened, more fragile, more...forgetful. I don't mean to be this way. I understand why I have to stay inside and why I can't play with the other kids. All I ever do is confuse or annoy them, anyway.

With this growing weight on every inch of my body and mind, Teddy is my only comfort. He follows me everywhere, resting at my feet, guarding the windows and doors. I think how dependent to him I've become concerns Mother. She wants me to spend my time reading or watching movies with her but the people on the television are incoherent, the words in my books feel foreign. I can't tell if time has passed quickly or very slow in this house, but today something is different. It's cold. The snow is keeping the cars and neighbors inside. It's quiet. As I pace about the terrible green walls, I notice a photo that hadn't been hanging there before. It's in a large frame, dust still clinging to the deepest corners where fingers couldn't fit to brush it away. People. Just people. They look happy, ah yes, the children are in Christmas pajamas. How pleasant. I smile at the finely decorated fireplace behind them, just as it should be for Christmas.

"Do you remember that?" Mother, still holding a hammer, strides into the room and places a tender hand on my shoulder. "Charlotte and I were so little,"

"Charlotte..." That name, what a beautiful name. I always loved it. Ever since, well, ever since...

"That's right! Charlotte is there," Mother points to a beaming blonde headed girl. Her braid is sloppy and slept in. "And there I am, next to Daddy." She points now to a slightly smaller girl, dark headed, bright eyed. She is still sleepy but she is smiling. She's got her fingers in her mouth again, oh, I always hated that. Leaving slimy little hand prints all over the house. All over the wallpaper.

"No... That's you?" I trace the little face with a trembling hand, she's so familiar. I've seen this face. I follow the figures to the two adults. The man is handsome. Square jaw and perfectly pomaded hair. He always had to have his hair perfect. We would laugh with our friends that he always made us late. "But then that's..."

As my finger falls on the woman, Mother grins. "Yes! That's you! Aren't you beautiful?"

I shiver. I remember. That dress. Those earrings. I'm holding my husband's hand, my wedding band visible against his darkly dressed knee. My ring! Where is it? I check my fingers nervously. Yes, still there. Good. I turn to Mother. No. Cece. "Cecilia," I pat her face. How I missed her. My girl. My little girl. I laugh as her eyes light up, exactly the way they lit up on that very Christmas when she saw the presents under the tree. "There you are,"

Her eyes well, she drops the hammer, placing her own hand on mine. She laughs with me as tears trickle down both of our faces. "Here I am, Mother. I'm here," I kiss her cheeks and we hug.

I wipe my own tears and pull myself away. I wipe her tears with my sleeve, "None of that, now." Tears or no tears, how wonderful to feel so happy again. It's been too long since we could connect like this. Since we could connect over anything. Mother is always too worried about me, I'm so glad she can finally enjoy herself again. What a wonderful photo. I glance down at Teddy, sitting at my feet as always. His tail is wagging but it's a slow, tired, wag.

I put myself to bed after dinner. I made myself comfortable but left my lamp on to look over the gift Mother had given me. In her decorating frenzy, she had found another photo and set it on my nightstand. I'm quite fond of it, although, it isn't as colorful as the one hanging in the living room. Lots of cute little children, all looking dirty from playing in the yard. They were lined up tallest to shortest for this photo, and one of the little girls is hugging the neck of a very excited dog. Obviously the dog was too hyper for a photo, it's tail a blur, looking the wrong direction, but the children are happy to have it there with them. I grin and show the frame to Teddy, "It looks a little like you doesn't it?"

With sleepy eyes he glances over the photo. His tail begins to wag and he gently kisses my fingers holding the frame. I lay down, setting the frame to the side, and turn the lamp off. Just as it did every night, the wallpaper began to fill my mind with familiar images. Smells and sounds dancing and swirling, drifting ever closer to a deep sleep.

The air is still now, my quilt feels like the warmth of the sun. What little light there is dances behind my eyelids, and the room melts away. I wake to the gentle wet nudge of Teddy's nose on my cheek. When I open my eyes, I realize I am somehow laying beneath the old oak tree. The snow is melted, birds are singing, the grass is vibrant and tall. I sit up and look for the house. It's nowhere. No neighbors. No streets. But... I'm not afraid. Some mysterious weight is lifted.

I stand. Teddy has already begun trotting off into the field with his tail held high. I follow. I think he knows where we have to go.