I recognized it immediately.
By
Updated 6 years ago,February 8, 2019
I recognized it immediately.
I didnt remember living there, remembered almost nothing about this town.
Peter Kleinau
We moved away when I was four years old.
Barely more than a toddler.
But I recognized the house.
I won an award for it in the schools art contest.
Two stories with a steeply gabled roof, as is typical of the style.
This one had a very friendly, welcoming face.
If I had to characterize it, the house looked like a smiling, stout, bearded man.
Thats what I thought.
I glanced at my watch.
I still had time.
It was a teleconference anyways.
I could do that in the car if I needed to.
The first thing I did was walk up to the front door to see if anyone was home.
The front walk was made of the same sort of flagstones as the first floor of the house.
The entryway had an archway that Im sure real estate agents would refer to as charming.
The front door was made of dark wood with leaded windows arranged in a diamond pattern.
I knocked three times and waited.
I shrugged and turned back to the car, and thats when I noticed the sign in the yard.
The house was for rent by a group called Horndike Realty.
On impulse, I pulled out my phone and dialed the number on the sign.
This time I didnt have to wait.
On the first ring, a woman picked up and said, Horndike Realty!
This is Susan Lakewood, how can I help you find your dream home a reality?!
in a sunny and well-rehearsed manner.
Hi Susan, I answered, My name is John Benson.
Im calling in regards to the house for rent at 737 Bluebird Avenue.
I was wondering if I might arrange a tour of the home at some point.
Im sure that can be arranged.
Give me one moment, hon.
I could hear keys clattering on the other end while I waited and wondered just what I was doing.
Additionally, it was far more room than I could possibly need.
How does three-thirty sound?
I turned back to the car.
Across the street, a bald man in a tank top was mowing his yard.
He waved at me in a mildly suspicious sort of way and I waved back.
His house was also a Tudor.
She was persistent and eventually I relented, though not without much grumbling.
Small, pursed lips.
As always, she sounded very happy to see me.
She always asked me dozens of questions rapid fire.
Eventually, I learned she only wanted an answer to the final query.
The rest was just small talk, and she had no time for mutual small talk.
How is my boy?
How is the countryside?
Are the locals treating you well?
if they are planning to sacrifice you to their corn god!
Is the water drinkable?
Do they say Yall out there?
Did you receive my email with the packet detailing the wishes of our generous benefactors?
Yes, I told her, And I looked over it.
Twelve paintings, at least half of them including a rustic structure.
All watercolor, all bursting with autumn foliage.
It should make for a remarkably trite and artistically vacuous calendar.
Dont be snotty, Johnny, it doesnt become you, she scolded.
Speaking of which, have you made living arrangements yet?
Dont be stingy, find a nice place you’ve got the option to work in.
No reason to stay at the Bates Motel on their dime.
Ive looked at a few places, which was only half a lie.
The only place I actually looked at was the house.
Im meeting with a realtor later about a place.
We went on to discuss other tedious details and particulars of the project while I ate my patty melt.
It was pretty good, actually, and probably not made of scalded dog.
Susan met with me outside the house and reintroduced herself.
She looked more or less exactly as I expected.
It didnt smell musty, it smelled like cinnamon roll scented candle.
The source of it this feeling of desertion was more subtle.
It did not seem unwelcoming, however.
The second floor had a sunroom with a hardwood floor that I knew would be perfect for painting.
Of course there wasnt.
Who can remember anything from when they were that young?
Well, some people could, perhaps, but I couldnt.
The earliest memory I had was in the house in which I spent the rest of my childhood.
I took her advice.
The house had three bedrooms, two on the bottom floor and one on the top floor.
I felt nothing from any of them.
Finally, I returned to the living room and sat on the hearth to wait for Susans return.
It was here that I had the memory.
It was a teenage girl whose features I recognized in my own reflection.
She had to have been a relative.
I said to her Look, Maddie!
and she smiled, taking the drawing from me.
I knew all of my cousins and all of the girls were my age or younger.
None of them were named Maddie or anything similar.
She didnt even look like a cousin, she looked like she could have been my sister.
If I had a sister.
Im an only child.
Shortly thereafter, Susan returned.
Money, however, was no object.
To my great surprise, she beamed at me.
As long as I was clear by then, she would be happy to rent to me.
Deposit plus first and last months rent paid in advance, of course.
Lisa handled the fine details of the rental agreement, including all the check and document signing.
I had to wait until the next day to move into the house.
My mind kept drifting to that transient memory from the fireplace.
Where did Maddie go?
What was Maddie short for?
Could have been Maggie, considering how young I was, so maybe Margaret?
I glanced down at my drawing.
Not work related, I sometimes dabbled in figure drawing and sequential art.
Blame it on a childhood love of superheroes.
I flipped the sheet over and started a new sketch, one of Maddie.
I could still recall her face, somehow.
It seemed that having regained the memory, my recall of it was surprisingly vivid.
Her chin was sharp like mine, but her cheekbones were rounder.
Her hair was sandy blonde, much lighter than mine, shoulder length and wildly teased.
It would have been the early nineties.
People still wore their hair pretty big back then.
Her smile was an enigma, one that tested my eraser.
It was warm but cold, loving but… not cruel exactly.
Reasonably satisfied, I set my pencil aside and viewed my sketch in full.
If the drawing was accurate, she nearly had to be a close relative.
The family resemblance was uncanny.
That smile though, it meant something.
I sipped at my beer, still staring at the sketch, wondering what it all meant.
I had no answers, and so I threw the sketch aside.
I left my fourth beer half-empty on the nightstand and switched off the television and bedside lamp.
I was asleep in moments.
That night I had a dream.
I dreamt of Maddie.
She led me by the hand through fields of gold, swaying in the warm sun.
The sun blazed in the sky, the sky an impossibly vibrant blue.
She kept looking back at me, smiling, laughing.
she urged, not impatiently but with the joyous imperative of someone who has something wonderful to show.
If I fell I would stain my pants.
They were corduroys and went swish swish swish with every stride.
My shoes were bright red sneakers with bright white soles.
They had a lightning bolt on the side, and that made me run faster.
Or so I believed.
She cried and seemed to restrain herself from running faster.
If she did she would have had to drag me the rest of the way.
Wait until you see!
Beyond the fence was a strip of old trees and shadows.
I started to get scared but I didnt get too scared.
Maddie would look out for me.
She smiled down at me and gave my hand another tug.
Its right through here, she told me.
I smiled to show her how brave I was.
Not a baby at all.
Birds were in the trees, big ones.
They looked down at us and they were big as houses.
But Maddie wasnt scared, no she was mad at the old birds for staring at us.
She cried up at the birds, throwing a stick at one.
It didnt hit but they got the message and flapped away.
She laughed again and I laughed too.
Dumb birds, I said.
Maddie said, and my heart soared.
We skipped through the rest of the forest, which wasnt much of a forest at all, really.
There was a path and she led me through.
The bugs went reeooreeooreeeeee… on and on.
I looked up and my heart skipped a beat and fell two stories.
It looked like the face of an angry monster, all mouth and hungry for little boys.
Dont be scared, kiddo.
Its just an old barn, thats all.
But now that you know about it, its our secret clubhouse!
She tugged at my hand and I started to follow her.
What choice did I have?
But no sooner did we reach the big-mouth door, but a loud and warbling siren filled the air.
It was a memory.
I had no doubt of that, though I also had no evidence to back it up.
Unfortunately, it was calling my mom to ask her.
It was just that calling her meant having to hear a load of passive aggressive judgment.
Or hobby, as she still calls it.
She was equally disapproving of my swinging bachelor lifestyle.
Also as she called it.
I was perfectly happy to be single and also gay.
She had yet to refer to my sexuality as a hobby but I could sense her thinking it.
Swallowing my dread, I pulled out my phone and pulled her number up in my contacts.
I explained to her where I was and what I was doing there.
The usual condescending crap.
Im gonna stay there while Im working here.
What would you need with a house that big?
Mom asked, trying to sound nonchalant but sounding brittle instead.
Place like that is too big for a swinging bachelor like you.
Maybe, I allowed, But, I dont know.
Just liked the place.
I guess, She sniffed, But it kind of seems like youre wasting those poor peoples money.
Mom, I groaned, dragging my free hand through my hair.
I was starting to get a headache.
They dont care about a couple of thousand dollars for rent, its chump change.
Anyways, thats not what Im calling about.
Well, what are you calling about?
I have a life too, you know.
And a job, for that matter.
Look, its just… On the spot, I wasnt sure how I wanted to phrase this.
The thing is, being back in that house brought back some memories.
Barely out of diapers.
Well, I remembered something.
I remembered… Did I ever get babysat by a relative?
Your grandmother a time or two, she said dismissively, Why?
No, not grandma.
Someone like a teenager.
What, like Jeff?
I wouldnt trust that little punk to watch my pet rock.
Look, I need to get going-
I cut her off.
No, not Jeff.
Her name was Maddie or maybe Maggie.
There was a pause on the other end.
Gathering her memories, maybe?
I just remembered, She said, finally, Maddie.
You had an imaginary friend named Maddie for a while.
You grew out of it, I guess.
Listen, I gotta go.
It was good talking with you, John.
I love you too- but she already hung up.
Maddie, an imaginary friend?
But if she was lying, why would she lie about that?
It figures, I go to my mom for answers and wind up more confused than ever.
By early afternoon I was moving my meager possessions into the house, which thankfully was furnished.
I brought exactly no furniture or kitchen supplies.
She thought of everything.
Mildly perplexed to have a visitor so soon after arriving, I journeyed back downstairs to answer.
At the door was a uniformed gentleman accompanied by a dolly loaded with boxes.
Handsome, but a bit too young for me and straight besides, I judged.
Anyways, I was here to work, not break hearts.
Im with Marvins Thriftway, Im here to deliver your groceries.
She really did think of everything.
She was a marvel.
Thanks, I said, Come on in.
His name was Wayne and seemed desperately eager to leave for the big city and start a band.
He was impressed by my status as a professional artist.
He left a joint on the counter, which I promptly threw into the wastebasket with a laugh.
Though I was more or less ambivalent about landscape and architectural paintings, I loved scouting aesthetically pleasing locations.
I grabbed my knapsack, loaded it with all my gear, and dashed out the door.
Color and beauty were everywhere, I could scarcely narrow my search.
The weather was warm and sunny but with a crisp breeze.
I would just have a look and head back for the house.
The door was open a crack, revealing nothing of the dusty darkness within.
Now, why did that make me feel worse, almost nauseous?
That night I had another dream.
This one was shorter and murkier but felt no less like a memory to me.
I dreamt I was somewhere dark and dusty and hot.
Maddie was there, once again.
I was frightened, though I was not certain why.
I held something in my hand which reflected what little light there was to reflect.
I dont know what it was.
Go ahead, she told me.
I cant, I told her.
I was on the edge of tears.
I dont know why.
Yes you’re free to, She assured me, gently, Its easy.
Its the easiest thing in the world to do.
It was hot in the dusty darkness, and it smelled.
It smelled of dust, and of hot, and of sweat too.
It smelled of old canvas bags and hay and decay.
I felt nauseous, and I had to pee.
I asked, fidgeting.
I didnt want to be in the dusty dark anymore.
Sure, She told me, brightly.
We can go, and Ill buy you an ice cream.
But you have to do this first.
Or else you cant be in the club with me.
I wanted to be in the club with her.
But what she wanted me to do, it scared me.
I dont know what she wanted me to do.
Okay, I told her, and I swallowed hard.
I would do anything for Maddie.
I loved when Maddie smiled at me.
She was holding something, too.
I couldnt tell what she was holding, but it jerked around in her hands.
I gasped awake in the night, sweating.
I could still smell the dust and the heat and the decay.
And I had to pee.
I spent the next morning chugging coffee and reviewing my photos and sketches from the day before.
Despite this, I could not hold on to a bad mood.
I never claimed to be a professional photographer, though I was competent enough for my own purposes.
According to the clock on the wall and the rumbling in my stomach, it was just about lunchtime.
I liked the way it lifted and held the color.
Also, it was a bit cheaper, which was a definite plus for a poor college student.
I kept using it mostly out of habit.
Clamps helped with the warping.
I turned back to my computer and turned on my painting playlist.
The Pixies came first, Bone Machine.
Pools of color defined themselves slowly though inexorably into shapes, images, light, and darkness.
As always my mind was a blank during the process, it was practically a meditative exercise.
For the first time that day I thought about Maddie, long lost memories, and strange dreams.
What did it all mean?
Why was I only remembering these things now?
It was all so confusing and strangely frightening.
And what happened in the darkness?
What was the thing Maddie held?
what was the thing I held?
Was any of it real?
Why wouldnt my mother talk about her?
If I loved her so much, why was I afraid of her too?
I tried to push her and all these questions out of my mind.
I was here to work, not to unfold some mystery.
I sat up with some protest from my back muscles mostly ignored and checked the paper.
Still wet, of course.
I had only been ruminating for a few minutes.
With nothing better to do, I decided I would sketch out another painting while I waited.
With this in mind, I grabbed my laptop and started rifling through photos again.
Already feeling that strange nausea again, I opened my photo editing software.
I knew how to change the brightness.
I turned it up until the entire image washed out.
There was a shape.
Something I dearly did not want it to be.
It looked like the top of someones head.
I swore softly to myself and closed the program, declining its offer to save my changes.
It could have been anything, I told myself.
Old barns like that were full of old junk, old equipment rusting in the darkness.
Could have been anything.
Suddenly I felt exposed before the cluster of windows that so appealed to me in the light of day.
That was stupid, of course.
I was on the second floor and anyways, this wasnt the middle of nowhere.
It was the middle of a middle-class neighborhood.
I drew the curtains anyway.
Who needs open windows after dark?
The paper was dry enough, I judged.
I turned up the music, raising Modest Mouses Perfect Disguise to a dull roar.
This wasnt an apartment and I wouldnt disturb the neighbors.
It was close to midnight when I stood back from my work and judged it to be finished.
I also judged myself to be near starving.
I didnt have the stamina I had as a starving college student.
Today I would go downstairs and eat something that had a vegetable in it and retire to the bedroom.
I felt good about the painting, maybe even ready to disavow my earlier grumbles about the project.
She would be happy to see progress so soon.
I wasnt thinking about Maddie at all.
Well, not much, anyway.
I had another dream that night.
The first dream was another Maddie dream.
In the dream I was in my bedroom, a bedroom I did not remember until now.
I was laying in my bed, my first big boy bed with its superhero bed sheets.
Action figures were scattered all over the floor and spilling from my big toy chest.
They offered me no comfort, I was crying.
Someone knocked on the door and I stiffened, stifled a sob.
She smiled down at me sympathetically from the doorway.
She was wearing a sundress with a floral print.
Her hair was wild as it always was.
She was holding something behind her back.
Hey kiddo, she said, Can I come in?
I sniffled and nodded.
She sat down on the bed beside me and gave me a side hug.
I felt better, in spite of myself.
We sat there and she swabbed the tears from my cheek with the hem of her dress.
Im sorry, Johnny, she told me.
She was the only one who called me that, but usually, she just called me kiddo.
I liked when she called me Johnny.
I guess I thought you were ready for that big kid stuff.
Its okay if youre not ready yet.
She smiled down at me again.
You have plenty of time for all of that.
And Ill be there to teach you.
One step at a time, you know?
Uh Huh, I said.
And dont you worry, She said, leaning in confidingly, Youre still in the club.
My tears were already nearly forgotten.
Hey, I got you something at the store today.
Do you want to see?
Maddie gave me the best presents.
Not even for Christmas.
Usually for no reason, just to see me smile.
From behind her back she produced a shopping bag and revealed my gift: It was a G.I.
I had been dreaming of getting one for weeks, ever since seeing the commercial during Saturday morning cartoons.
I squealed with delight and planted a kiss on her cheek.
She laughed and handed the prize to me.
I immediately set to ripping it open, but she stopped me.
Wait a second, Johnny, She said, looking me in the eyes.
Theres just one more thing.
I asked, ready to agree to anything at that point.
Its about the club.
She said, cautiously.
Well, its about the big kid stuff, actually.
I guess so, I replied, unsure.
I didnt like the idea of doing something if mom and dad didnt want me to.
Its just that I dont think they understand how smart you are, how big youve gotten.
Mom and dad, they just think youre still their baby.
Im not a baby!
I protested, with the fervency that only a child fresh out of diapers could produce.
I know youre not!
And heres the other thing, kiddo.
Well, I would get in trouble too, you know.
And maybe they wouldnt want us to play together anymore.
I dont want that to happen.
I cried, and I meant it.
I loved Maddie, I couldnt stand it if she couldnt play with me anymore.
She nodded, satisfied, and said, Well thats that then.
Clubhouse business is just between clubhouse members.
That means you and me only.
Okay, I quickly agreed.
She asked, presenting her pinky.
I linked mine with hers, a sacred vow.
She said, smiling big this time.
Now lets play G.I.
That dream faded to obscurity, and the second dream came later.
It wasnt a Maddie dream, or at least it didnt seem to be.
I was laying in bed, in the dark.
I couldnt move and I was terribly afraid of the person, but they didnt do anything.
The next thing I knew, it was the morning.
