Butterflies rose up in my gut as I knocked on the door. The sense of anticipation coursed through me. I began to think about how this was such an eerie parallel to my first time standing in front of this house. However, it would not be his mother answering the door this time. This was the only thing I could be certain about in this endeavor (he had informed me he was the sole inheritor of his childhood home after the deaths of his parents and sister.).
These thoughts all scattered as I saw Edgar standing in the doorway. Age changes us in so many ways, but the one constant is always the eyes. Hidden beneath the gangly mat of hair that comprised his beard and the bags beneath were those same indelibly blue eyes I remembered. Always darting around randomly, alive and manic as they surveyed their surroundings.
I entered and remarked in my mind how well my memory served me. It was exactly as I remembered it down to the cabinet of China in the dining room corner. However, it was now caked in years of dust.
We made our way to the kitchen, and he offered me a beer. I accepted. We sat at the table, and I began to speak.
“So, yeah I’ve been having this really crazy dream about Mr. and Mrs. Checks for weeks now, and I was just really curious about the whole thing. If anything, it’s been a good excuse to get back in touch with you.” I offered my beer for an impromptu cheer. He didn’t seem to notice or care about my gesture. His eyes became focused on mine.
“Yeah they’re still chained up, but they’ve been getting out lately, and they are pissed!” He said this with such sincerity that I chuckled to myself, assuming this was a very dry joke.
“Yeah…” I cleared my throat. “What’s was the deal with them? Why were they chained up in your basement?” I nervously took a sip from my beer.