At midnight, Fiona and her mother finally pulled into the driveway of their new rental. Her mom cut the engine, but not the parking lights.
“Looks like we made it, Fee.”
“Barely. I thought you were going to kill us a few times weaving all over the road like you were,” Fiona said.
“It’s not easy driving and towing a U-haul trailer. It’s heavy,” her mom replied and began rummaging through her purse.
Fiona ignored her mother and squinted through the dust and bug splats on the windshield at the dark house. She noticed the crooked light fixture on the left side of the garage, and the rain gutter hanging askew.
“Looks like we’re the haunted house on the block,” Fiona said.
Her mom hit the high beams spotlighting the garage door like a stage.
“Not so helpful, Mom.” Fiona got out of the car and stretched her neck and back. She inhaled the cool fall air. Peering through the darkness, she noticed the bushes lining the dead grass yard needed trimming, the thinly branched tree in the front stood naked of leaves, and mounds of dried up flowers filled the flower bed under the front window. Shadows darkened the walkway to the front door. A pair of windows stared out at the street like rectangular evil eyes.
“Looks sturdy and dirty. And creepy. I can hardly wait to go inside, Mom.”
Fiona peered inside the car. Under the dim dome light, her mom had dumped the entire contents of her purse on the passenger side seat.
“Mom, what are you doing?”
“I think I left the key back in Watsonville.”
“Great,” Fiona said. She glanced back at the windows. They remained staring blankly into the night. Fiona looked down the street in both directions. Every single house had a lit porch, except theirs.
“Ahhh-ha! I found it. It was in the ash tray. I forgot I put it in there for safe keeping.”
“Hurry up, Mom. It’s dark outside.”
“Fine. I’m coming. Have some patience, Fee,” her mom said, as she got out of the car.
They walked the dark pathway to the front door. A powdery dust covered everything. Fiona’s mom tried to fit the key in the lock and open the door. She jiggled and twisted the knob, syncing the internal mechanisms with difficulty, until the door finally creaked open into a darkness blacker than night.
“Where’s the light switch?” her mom asked, as she ran her hand over the wall next to the door frame. “Ah!”
Fiona heard the light switch click. She heard her mom toggle it up and down several times in rapid succession, but nothing happened.
“Ummm,” her mom mumbled.
“There aren’t any lights on outside either. Don’t tell me we don’t have any electricity,” Fiona said.
“Well, either that or we need several dozen light bulbs,” her mother answered.
“Figures.” Fiona heard her mother rummaging through her purse again. “What are you doing?”
“Wait. I think I’ve got it.”
Fiona heard jangling keys, a soft snap and a beam of blue light appeared from her mother’s hand. “There we go.” Her mom walked into the house waving the thin light in front of her. When she found the kitchen, she searched through random drawers. “There we go,” she said again.
“There we go what?” Fiona asked completely annoyed.
“Candles. Now, all I need is some fire.”
Fiona flipped a pack of paper matches at her mom.
“Where’d you get these? You aren’t smoking again, are you?”
“From the counter, Mom! Jeez. I smoke one time three years ago and you act like I’m going to die of lung cancer or some crap. Light the dumb candle already.” As her mom lit the candles, it occurred to Fiona, “Did you call ahead to get the power turned on?”
“What?” Her mom asked.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“Maybe I can get my old job back.” Fiona’s mom rerouted the conversation.
“What job?” Fiona asked, rolling her eyes.
“The one at Red Lobster. Ah. There we go. Light.” Fiona’s mom smiled triumphantly, holding up a lit candle.
Fiona stared at her mother through the candlelight. “Are you serious? That was ten years ago.”
“I was good at that job. The manager, oh, what was her name? Mandy?”
“Who cares what her name was. It was ten years ago. No one’s going to remember you.”
Undeterred by Fiona’s negativity, her mother continued, “I think it was Valerie. Yes, I’m pretty sure it was Valerie. Maybe she’s still there.”
“Ten years ago, Mom. And nice try.” Fiona said.
“Nice try what?” Her mom paused. “I noticed you didn’t use the F-word. I’m proud of you sticking to your promise.”
“Nice try not answering my question. The power company. You didn’t call ahead, did you?”
“I was so busy getting the U-haul loaded—”
“I’ll take that as a no,” Fiona said flatly.
“I’m sorry, Fee. I’ll get on it first thing in the morning.”
“Can we just unload some things, so I can go to bed, preferably not on the floor?”
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