Suzie’s House 402 : The Caress of Solitude

Suzie's House

“Look, kid. This might be a boarding house, but it isn’t a public building. You can’t just come and go as you please.” One of Mrs. H,’s borders stopped Emma in the front hall.

The blood in Emma’s veins froze. Her chest hurt and it was hard to breathe. Though she didn’t really know this woman, she knew who did and who did not belong in this house.

“I… I’m not!” Emma wanted to explain how the band ran out of time at the practice room and moved to Gene’s place, but the words twisted around her tongue and died there.

“Aren’t you the one who slammed the door just now? Don’t you have your own home to go to?”

Emma flinched. “I… But….”

“Hey! Emma! Hurry up!” Tracy’s voice came from upstairs. “We’re all waiting.”

“Right!” Relieved, Emma took the mask she’d dropped three times and ran up the stair and called, “Sorry!” She wasn’t sure herself which female she was apologizing to or why.

The words, “Don’t you have your own home to go to,” kept rolling around in Emma’s head.

She did have a place to go. She wasn’t so sure it counted as much of a home.

Not like this. Gene’s place always had people in it. They might not all be as nice as Mrs. H., but at least the lights were on and the kitchen smelled good.

A year ago if anyone had asked Emma about her home, she’d have said she liked it best when no one else was there. Of course she liked having her brother gone. She used to like it when her mom and dad were gone. too. It didn’t matter how much she loved them, alone was best.

Now she had the house to herself more often than not. She wondered about her dad. He’d been gone for nearly a month now. One more month and school would be starting. Would he come back by then?

Her mom got a job. She said it was to put food on the table, but she took it very seriously, and seemed happiest when she was late coming home.

Emma hit the top of the stairs and stepped into Gene’s room. At a glace she saw that everyone else in the band had already found some place or another to flop. They all looked at her at the same time like they expected something.

“Ok, Emma. It’s you’re turn to write a song,” Bruce said.

That’s right. They were talking about it on the way over. Everyone was bored with the same old songs. All she had to do was come up with some words.

“Y-yeah.” She surprised herself with a sense of confidence. She didn’t even feel like pouting. “Yeah. I know just what to write.” But she didn’t try to write it. She just sang.

The house is dark and empty. No one home. No one home.
The house is full of creeks and ghosts
and I’m here all alone.

Oh where has Daddy gone?
He took the keys and ran away.
Oh where has Daddy gone?

I learn to cook, I learn to clean I prove that I am fine
But closets hold the fears of bones
and I’m here all alone.

Oh where has Mommy gone?
She took the checkbook and the raise.
Oh where has Mommy gone?

What used to by a haven is now cold as a grave.
The years to come stretch like a rug
and I’m here all alone.
Alone, alone. I’m here all alone.

She let the last words fade away, then waited for the verdict.

“Yeah,” said Bruce. “I think we can work with that.

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