The house hadn't been lived in for years and was one step away from derelict. It wasn't boarded up, as there was no need this far to the edge of town.
The chances were minuscule that both of them should return to the house on the same day at the same time. It shortened the odds a little that it was ten years to the day from when they moved in, but it was still a pretty freaky coincidence.
Ryan came from the freeway, so he parked across the road. He got out of his car and looked over at the curling shingles, peeling siding and time-frosted glass that used to be his home. He walked gingerly up the rickety wooden steps thinking, "A broken stairway to a broken home."
All the windows were thick with grime and it was impossible to see inside until he wiped away a few layers with the edge of his hand. He lowered his eye to the patch he'd cleared. Inside, there were a few old pieces of furniture that he didn't recognize. He walked across the porch, rubbed some grime off the dining room window, and peered in. The wallpaper, that was just about still hanging on, was familiar. He looked for the dent in the wall, and was almost sure he could see it.
More memories than he expected came flying at him, each bringing its own emotion. There was the hope and happiness of the day they moved in, the exuberance of the time she was sitting naked on that very porch, waiting for him to come home from work. The closeness of the night they watched the fire bugs from the porch and talked about children. And, sadly, there was the shattering heartbreak of the day she walked down those steps and never came back.
Ryan shook free of the aching discomfort of this last memory, and walked back to the front door. One of the small glass panes was broken and he stooped to look through the opening. The hallway led straight down the center of the house from the front door, clear across the kitchen to the back door. The door at the rear had less of its glass intact and, just for a moment, he visualized Lauren looking straight back at him.
It took a few seconds to sink in, and then reality knocked him sideways—it was Lauren. Her features were unmistakable, and the look of shock that formed when their eyes locked sent a chill though him.
He was in no rush to walk around the house but, as he moved, his body was being infused with adrenaline pumped by an overworking heart. She was still standing at the door when he got there. He stopped a few feet away from her, but it was close enough to see that the years had been kind to his first love.
Her hair was still the blackest he'd ever seen. It was the same shoulder-length it always was, but the fringe had been replaced by bangs that wandered down the edges of her face to rest against her cheeks. Her startling indigo-blue eyes appeared a little dazed and showed several tiny age marks at their edges, but they still shone and enticed. She was obviously slightly bemused, and tried to smile—her naturally dark lips parted to reveal several white teeth.
It was a smile he never expected to see again, let alone here, today.
On her slim, five-feet-six, frame she wore an oversized Air Force-style leather jacket, tight blue jeans, and a plain white crew-necked top that curved with her small, well-defined chest. Her slimline sneakers had a few miles on them and he instantly noticed that, as always, she wasn't wearing socks. Just like the cute lines of her nose, some things never changed.
"I..." It was impossible for Ryan to know whether he should smile, step closer, or run. "I... just... Wow—imagine seeing you here."
"Imagine." She looked calmer now, but Ryan knew her voice well enough to hear the undertone that matched his shock and uncertainty.
"I was just passing. Thought I'd take a look and..." Ryan swallowed and steadied himself. "I guess you know what today is?"
She raised a hand and brushed away a few stray strands of her shining hair. It was a motion that was so familiar, and made him want to reach forward and touch her. "Of course." She nodded; no point in avoiding the obvious. "I'm surprised you remembered though."
"There's a lot of memories in this house." He moved towards the door, and tried the handle. When it showed signs of giving, leant his shoulder against it. "Wanna check it out?" He grinned—the door was open.
Lauren led the way into the deathly silent house. She paused to look around the kitchen while Ryan picked up a broken picture that had fallen from the living room wall. He thought he recognized the frame, but doubted his instinct. "Remember the first pancakes you made there." He pointed to the battered and long-dormant range.
"Black Frisbees." For the first time he heard a lighter tone in her voice. "You still ate them." She looked up to find his eyes. "That was a nice thing."
In the dining room, Ryan immediately started checking the wall. He found the depression easily. "This is where you threw the pot at me."
"And missed." Lauren giggled. "I was jealous. You and Janie Heatherton. What was I thinking?"
"We were young." Ryan started the obvious. "We had no chance. Hard to believe we lasted as long as we did sometimes."
He stopped, looked at her and realized she was remembering as well.
"Maybe." she considered. "But I didn't come here because it was all bad. We sure were young though. Thinking of this place, I always think of the children's story, Babes in the Wood."
"We weren't abandoned." He vaguely recalled the story.
"No. Not by anyone but ourselves anyway." Lauren turned and started upstairs. "I guess you can tell me now. Did you and Janie ever..."
Ryan sniffed at the notion. "No."
"Good to know." She paused and looked down at him, before smirking, turning away and allowing her incredible ass to keep him stationary as he watched it. A decade had done no damage there.
Climbing slowly, one step at a time, he replayed the time they didn't even make it all the way upstairs, ripping each others' clothes and frantically making love like time itself was running out. He counted, figuring it was the fifth stair her ass rested on while he thrust into her, sweat running from them both as their hands tried to be everywhere at once. Afterwards they laughed. Not a giggle, or playful laugh, but deep, passionate heaves. Ten years on and he'd never recaptured anything like those moments.
At the top of the stairs he paused on the landing, scanned the bare floorboards and ran a weary hand around his neck. He stepped into the bathroom and saw the sink, now stained from years of neglect. Looking into the cracked mirror with his soft brown eyes, he thoughtfully felt the six-hour growth on his chin.
He stood there for almost two minutes, staring at his reflection and wondering at how little it had changed in ten years, no matter how much he'd grown up. His faded Levis, give or take an inch, could easily be the same ones from back in the day but the plain white shirt was well-pressed and gave him a clean look that had probably improved over the years. His athletic frame was still evident and his face showed a gentle poise that he had grown into. For once he didn't check the hairline that had receded a little and finished his reverie with an empty smile to the mirror.
After a jarring glance into what was going to be the nursery, he joined Lauren in the bedroom. She was staring out the window.
The room had changed color, and the only things left were an old mattress and a nightstand with a broken leg. Nothing in the room belonged to them except the memories. Ryan figured the memories were the most valuable thing anyway.
They were young back then, and learning to love was a tough assignment. It was easy to wish you knew what you did now, but he realized he only learned some of those things because of Lauren. He remembered signing simple contracts with each other, setting out childish rules about commitment and love. The paper was pink. They wrote the same words to each other, and exchanged them. Neither of them broke any rules, but they still broke each others' hearts. He still had his copy, in a box somewhere.
It was all of the usual things that caught them out—money, immaturity, jealousy, stupidity.
They had a full set of those cards. It seemed like every night they were either making love or picking a new fight, each one cutting deeper. But, every morning, they woke up in each other's arms. Sometimes they even woke up together.
"I wish we hadn't fought so much." Lauren didn't turn around.
"Me too." Ryan laughed. "The rest of the time was fun." His gaze fixed on the snapped leg of the nightstand. "Remember the time we spilled rice and noodles in the bed? God! And the time we were in the shower so long the water went cold."
He looked over and saw that she hadn't moved. Her hand fumbled in her leather jacket and he understood.
"You okay?" He moved to her. When he saw her face, she was dabbing her eyes with a tissue.
"You made me cry." She tried to laugh, and failed. "Again."
"I'm sorry." His words fell heavily to the dusty floor. There was no echo, but he heard them over and over again, reminding him this was the first time he ever said them to her.
"It's funny—this house brought us so close together. And, at the same time, it ripped us apart." He started to pace the room, trying to lighten his tone. "It was such a great feeling—moving in, building a home, being with you..." He stopped, conscious he was thinking about their lovemaking. "But paying for everything, not knowing how to compromise, or even when to compromise... Man, that just sucked. I... I just had no idea."
Lauren finally turned away from the window, revealing her reddened eyes as she looked over to him.
"Neither of us had any idea," she consoled. "We knew how to hold hands and make love. We didn't know shit about paying bills and grocery shopping."
