Today (Afternoon)

“Do you recognize the house?” Abel asked as they cruised down the street, peering at the stylized metal numbers on porches and mailboxes. He looked down at his phone, resting precariously on his lap with the address pulled up to check before adding. “It should be on the right.”

Theo mutely shook his head. All the houses looked the same to him. They had large manicured lawns and long blacktop driveways lined with boats or extra cars under large covers. Most of them looked to have been built around the same time, with varying brick structures that adhered to the same general cubic principles and had similar additions with cream-colored siding as though those had all been constructed around the same time, too.

He could not tell which one was his aunt’s. But the street did feel familiar, like something out of a movie scene that he saw so long ago he could no longer remember the movie. Or like déjà vu—certain he had been here and done this before, despite knowing he had not. Except he had gone to his aunt’s house for holidays and birthday parties when he was younger. There were cousins around his age, if he remembered correctly. 

“That should be it,” Abel palmed the wheel, easing them to a stop along the curb in front of a house that looked much the same as all the others. It had pretty purple flowers in the front garden bed and a big, drooping maple tree in the center of the lawn. Bird feeders hung from the branches above a bench and bird bath.

“You shouldn’t hang bird feeders from trees because then you’re just feeding the squirrels,” Theo recited.

“Is that so?” Abel shifted the car to park and pulled his keys from the ignition. “What if the squirrels are hungry?”

Theo hummed and rubbed his shark’s fin. The déjà vu grew stronger around him, squeezing his vision and making him feel stuck between two times. If it squeezed hard enough, he might pop right into the memory. Maybe his parents had this exact conversation about bird feeders when they visited this house.

“You ready to go?” Abel unbuckled.

Theo pursed his lips. “Can I bring my shark?”

“You can do whatever you want to, Teddy. If you want to stay in the car, I’ll just go get the stuff for you.”

Teddy. That’s right. He was trying to restuff himself. To become a soft, cuddly Teddy Bear instead of a limp, forgotten rag. Gathering all the stuffing that Ken had plucked out of him was a good place to start. And reconnecting with his family was one of those things that got plucked away. His parents were dead, now no more than déjà vu—memories he could not entirely trust. Each time he thought of them struck a chord of guilt in his chest. But he could say hello to his aunt.

“I came all this way,” Theo unbuckled and popped open his door. “She’s expecting me.”

“Okay,” Abel followed him out of the car and up the driveway, past the flowers handing on the porch, to the clean, crisp white door. There was a little brass knocker, which Theo began to reach for, but Abel caught his hand and redirected it toward a doorbell instead. Theo blushed and thanked him for correcting his mistake.

Abel made a face at that. “No mistake,” he assured Theo, “Just the doorbell is easier to hear.”  

Then the door swung open, and a middle-aged woman who barely came up to Theo’s nose peered out at them. She had silver hairs and a pudginess that Theo did not remember, aged nearly two decades since the last time he saw her, but it was most certainly his aunt. He wondered if his mother would look like this. If his mother had been that short. He could never remember being taller than her, even when he went to college.

“Theodore?” she asked, looking between him and Abel.

“Aunt Dolores?” Theo asked.

There was another moment of stunned silence, even though all of them had been expecting this meeting, and then she smiled and beckoned them inside. “Yes, yes. It’s been so long. My how you’ve grown, but you’re the spitting image of your mother, God rest her soul.”

Theo stepped in and hovered by the doorway, not giving Abel much room to squeeze in before Aunt Dolores closed the door behind them. She barely came up to Abel’s shoulder and kept looking at him, taking in the neck tattoo and the silver in his ears.

“Abel,” he introduced himself. “We spoke on the phone.”

“Of course,” she said warmly. “Come in. Take a seat in the living room. Let me bring out something to drink.”

She disappeared into the house, leaving Theo and Abel to peer around at her doily curtains and floral-patterned couches with only the company of a ticking clock. Theo took a tentative step forward, nervous about walking on her carpet in his shoes but too anxious to remove them. She told them to take a seat, so that was what he would do.

Thankfully, the room was brightly lit and cheery. As terrified as he was of soiling her carpet or upholstery, Theo was comforted by the white and pink theme. Bright daylight spilled through the windows, from which the drapes had been thrown back. He settled onto the longer couch with an anxious glance toward the cardboard box sitting conspicuously on the coffee table. Abel sat beside him and rested a hand on his jiggling knee.

“Sorry,” Theo whispered, but he did not try to still his leg. Abel merely squeezed him while looking curiously about the room.

“Is lemonade okay with you?” Aunt Dolores came bustling back in, holding a tray laden with a pitcher and three glasses. The lemonade was, perhaps to be expected, pink, and there were round cross-sections of lemon floating amongst the ice.

“That’s wonderful, thank you,” Abel said as she set the tray beside the box and began pouring each glass. Theo sipped the glass she handed him and tried not to pucker at the first taste. Once he took a few more drinks, his tongue acclimated to the sour and he could taste that it was sweet, but not overly so.

Aunt Dolores sat back in one of the armchairs, her own glass in hand, and looked straight at him to ask, “How was the drive up?”

Theo froze under her gaze and glanced at Abel, who was just looking at him expectantly, with a small encouraging smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, um, well.” Theo cleared his throat and rubbed his thumb over his shark’s fin. “It was nice weather and not a lot of traffic. Most of the time, we drove with the windows down, which was nice.”

He winced. It was a boring answer, but the weather always seemed to be a safe topic of conversation. He had no idea what might be okay to talk about over lemonade in a bright, dainty house with his estranged aunt. Rather suddenly, he felt completely out of place and overwhelmed.

“We stopped at a petting zoo on the way here,” Abel offered.

“Oh?” Aunt Dolores’s smile widened, and she squinted at Abel. “The one in…”

Theo stared down at his sweating glass of lemonade as they spoke. A drop of water slid down the side and landed on his finger. The clock ticked somewhere. He looked around but could not find it, so he supposed it must be in the little entry hall by the front where they came in or through the open door to the kitchen. He kept one ear tuned to the pleasantries enough to know that his aunt tactfully avoided asking how Theo was or what he had been doing with his life. She’d spoken with Abel, and the police had contacted her, so she likely had some impression already.

His full attention was drawn back when she pushed the cardboard box across the table toward them. “I’m sure Theo has told you, but his parents and I had a falling out when he was younger, and I did not have the opportunity to speak to my sister during the last few years of her life. But after she died, Bill’s family contacted me as they were going through the house to see if I wanted to take anything. Decent of them.”

“How…” Theo’s voice came out unfathomably quiet, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “How did they die?”

Aunt Dolores looked stunned for a moment. Then she recovered and, with a sad smile, told him, “Car accident. Neither made it to the hospital.”

“Oh.” Theo nodded.

She sat forward and pulled open the flaps of the box to show off the contents. “I have some of your mother’s furniture which was from our mother’s—your grandmother, Theo—set, as well as some dishware and mementos and other things. Most of it is in my basement right now. I figured if you wanted it once,” she paused, glancing at Abel for a moment, then continued, “once you figure out where you are going to be, you could take it. But for now, it could just stay down there.”

“Thank you,” Theo remembered the furniture now that she mentioned it. They had been some of his mother’s prized possessions, most of which were part of a dining room set that included a hutch, pie chest, table, and chairs. He had not thought of them in years, but he was grateful to know they were somewhere safe, even if they were stored away in some basement. “I don’t think I can take them yet. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

“No inconvenience,” she waved his concerns away. “I always hoped you would turn up for them someday. Anyway, for now, I’ve put together the paperwork you asked for, as well as some photo albums for you. I can’t believe you still have that shark!”

Theo clutched the shark a bit closer in his lap and gave her a small smile. “We’ve been through a lot together.”

His aunt’s eyes turned sad. “So I hear.”  She looked at him with those sad eyes for a moment, then clapped her hands together and looked down at the lemonade pitcher. In a falsely bright tone, she exclaimed, “I should top us off with some more lemonade. Abel, would you come into the kitchen to help me?”

This was a not-so-subtle way of getting Abel alone so she could talk to him without Theo hearing. But Theo did not mind. He did not want to hear about everything right now. It was all so overwhelming already, and he was grateful that Abel could take care of some things for him.