Once I had reached their bedrooms, I started in Theo’s which already had looked far different to the mess it had been before. The walls had been painted a dark blue, matching the covers on his double bed in the centre of the room. His windows were open, allowing the morning sun to pour in onto his slightly messy floor made up of unpacked boxes and clothes from the days before. He, too, had a huge TV on his wall surrounded by signed football T-shirts and pictures of football players celebrating goals. Above his desk were some photographs taped to his wall in a chaotic mess. He was in most of them, smiling with boys and girls his age. Some were at parties, others in unrecognisable places. The boys posed and the girls all seemed to pout. I was definitely not impressed by the fashion choices in 2018—everyone seemed to be wearing black clothes with rips. As I glanced at all the photos, I noticed one at the end that was different from the others. It was of Theo and Finn both smiling with Theo’s arm wrapped around Finn’s shoulder as Maia sat on his lap. It must have been from a few years before as Maia looked tiny in Finn’s lap. They all looked so happy. Far from the boys I had seen pass each other in the hallways of the house as though they were nothing but strangers.
Restless, I left Theo’s room wondering what had happened to them. Uninterested in both Maia’s and her parents’ room, I headed for Finn’s. It was a world away from Theo’s. The windows were closed and bare except for a thick film of dirt. There were no photos on the wall, in fact, there was no sign that Finn lived in the room at all. It could have been anyone’s bedroom. As I pulled open one of his windows, allowing the light to reveal the dust in the room, I realised I couldn’t work out Finn. The rest of them—except maybe their dad—were obvious. Theo was the cool kid who played sports and had everyone falling over themselves to be his friend. Cait was the stressed mother, always juggling the happiness of her kids and husband forever hoping for the perfect family, and Maia was that special kid who was far wiser than her years. But Finn, I couldn’t figure out. He just seemed like a moody little brat. In the three days, he had been living in the house, I hadn’t seen him smile once, he barely spoke to any of his family and even when he did it was most likely a one-worded answer or a shrug of his shoulder. It was like he enjoyed being a miserable loser.
I hated people like him. They irritated me with their lack of desire for the world. I knew that if I could have traded with him, I’d be out in the world like a heartbeat, and yet he spent most of his time cooped up in his room playing games and staying up all night staring at pictures of his brother with a green eye. I would never have been friends with someone like Finn. Not because he was an outsider, I was an outsider too, but because people like Finn were ungrateful and made themselves a victim of the world when they were far from it.
Irritated by the memory of his grumpy face and my unsuccessful attempt to leave the house, I began writing on his window, moving the dirt with my finger. As Cait appeared in the drive, slamming her car door, I looked at my handy work and scoffed before following Cait around the house.
She spent hours cleaning and putting together furniture that hadn’t yet left its box. It was fascinating to watch as she worked fast to not only continue transforming the house but also begin washing clothes and making dinner. It was clear she had a fascination with dolls but not the cute kind that Maia played with. They were the kind that looked at you with a tilted glance and rosy smile while planning on how they’d kill you in your sleep.
There was one that especially scared the crap out of me. It had dark red wavy hair and huge brown eyes that seemed to follow you no matter where you were.
‘Ugh,’ I said turning its head to face the wall before following Cait up the stairs with a shudder.
It was as Cait reached the bedrooms but still continued to walk up the stairs that I realised she was headed to my library.
‘Oh no you don’t,’ I said, speeding through her and slamming the library door shut so loudly that Cait almost sent herself flying down the stairs with her jump.
‘That is my room, and it needs none of your cleaning or dolls, thank you very much,’ I said watching as she spun on her heel and headed back downstairs muttering a variation of no’s. She was terrified, I could feel it, but she busied herself walking into another empty room and finding old cabinets hidden beneath dust sheets. She pulled them off in one swift move, unearthing more dust than I had ever seen. It all collected above us, dancing in the air. I had been so mesmerised by it that I hadn’t noticed Cait leave the room and return with arms full of wooden furniture of her own. I watched as she carefully pulled open an easel and placed it to the side of the big windows that looked out onto the garden and surrounding woodlands. Carefully, she pulled different colours of paints out of a bag and laid them flat on one of the old cabinets, alongside paintbrushes of different lengths. I waited at the top of the stairs as she left the room again and returned this time with a bunch of canvas. Some had already been used displaying detailed abstract paintings of people, two of which were of Maia and Finn.
‘You did these?’ I said, amazed at her talent as she fiddled with a small box in the corner of the room before speaking out loud and giving me a small heart attack.
‘Alexa, play painting playlist,’ she said tying up a paint-covered apron around her as I looked around the room looking for ‘Alexa’ to appear.
‘Playing, Painting Playlist,’ a robotic voice said before familiar music began to play.
‘Who said that? Are there robots in 2018?’ I asked, following the sound of the music before realising it was coming from the small black box Cait had been playing with moments before.
‘Hello?’ I whispered to it. ‘Alexa…?’ It stopped playing music and lit up for a few minutes causing Cait to pause and stare.
‘Alexa, resume music,’ Cait said, and it did as it was told.
‘Wow,’ I whispered. ‘There really are robots.’
I went back to watching Cait begin drawing the outline of an eye, taking several moments to close her eyes and think as though she was trying to see them. The music changed automatically to Cyndi Lauper, and we both whispered in unison, ‘I love this song.’ It seems silly to say it but at that moment, as Cait sang along to every word said, I realised that I would have been her age had I been alive.
I wondered what she would have been like as a teenager. She was far too pretty, even in her fifties, to not have been popular. With her full lips, pale eyes, wavy curls, and porcelain skin, she was pretty in a classic way. I would bet on my life that she had loads of friends that wanted to be just like her and boys rushing around her trying to catch her attention, just like Theo. I wondered what she was like before she became a mum. I wondered if we would have been friends. Of course, I knew the answer to that question. We wouldn’t have, just as the girls in my school hadn’t been my friends back then either.
Several hours had passed when Jack’s rough voice called up the stairs, startling both Cait and me.
‘You’re painting again,’ he said once he reached the room with a smile. ‘Who is the culprit this time?’ He placed a soft kiss on her forehead. He seemed relaxed as he playfully reached for Cait’s ponytail, twisting it gently through his fingers.
‘Oh, no one in particular,’ Cait said setting down her paintbrush and untying her apron.