The Third Munroe Boy

"The Third Munroe Boy"

Copyright © Sophtbit

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The story, "The Third Munroe Boy" is copyrighted under the Copyright Designs and Patterns act of 1988. This includes all chapters, prologues, epilogues, sequels and associated content. Any unauthorized copying, broadcasting, manipulation, distribution, or selling of this work constitutes as an infringement of copyright. An infringement of copyright is punishable by law. Any links, images, brand names or other copyrighted material is not mine and is not covered under my copyright. Any resemblance to other fictional charcaters or real people is completely coincidental.

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Dust, that's exactly what caught my attention when I entered the old house, still beautiful even with age. I missed it so much. I trailed my hand along the thick banister on the grand staircase, letting my fingers touch the soft wood, and yes, the endless dust that grew in our absence. The old lace curtains my mother had loved still hung in the windows, and even the welcome mat with the two red cardinals was exactly where we left it.

My dad came in grunting and struggling with a few heavy boxes, he set them down with a thud and came over ruffling my hair. "Hey Gabe, check it out, almost looks like a haunted house, we could make a killing on Halloween." He smiled at me, it was nice to see him smile for once.

My dad was lonely, lonely was possibly an undertstatement, seeing as he chooses to be lonely. He was depressed. My mother died of Leukemia right after we moved to Maine. He had been at the hospital so often I wondered if we even needed a house anymore. When she died, I think she took my dad's heart with her, leaving only a broken host with no soul. He still loved me, and I knew this. But he was empty, too.

Seeing as I was ten when she died, well, I wasn't really raised in my high school years with magazines and nail polish. I was a baseball cap, microwave dinner kind of girl. And football? That was it's own religion in our hosuehold.

My dad always did the best he could, a lawyer with a busy schedule, it was hard for him to spend time with me, but I didn't mind. Most people would see it as he took care of me well, but really I think it was the other way around. I took care of the groceries, the bills, and the house. I did laundry and cooked him microwave dinners when we were both too swamped to order in, and I always made sure his suits were neat and pressed. I was his rock, and he was my best friend. Our style of life just worked, we were a team and did everything together. I could tell him everything, and in return he didn't keep secrets either.

"I don't think so," I told him, "I'm going to start cleaning out the kitchen, find the dishes and furniture, okay?" He saluted me with a goofy grin on his face, patting my back.

"I don't know what I would do without you," He said, and sighed, "Off to break my back, I think I should get better pay for this, Gabe, you work me like I'm in a sweatshop."He pulled his hands through his messy hair, streaks of grey starting to show through, his eyes were far off. He wasn't with me at the moment. I snapped my fingers in front of his face and he blinked.

"Sorry," He said quickly, "I was just thinking about how much your mom loved this place. I love this place." He said the last part softly, and sadness took over in his eyes. He smiled, a half smile, and walked out like he was in some sort of Dreamland. I grabbed a bottle of bleach, and walked through the long hallway covered in windows on the left side wall into the kitchen, thankfully the utilities were on, and so I had water. Water and bleach, my two bestfriends. I examined the kitchen, dust and grime was everywhere, we had neglected it for such a long time.

Dad was right, mom always loved it here. It was bright and cheerful, the walls a faint robin egg blue. I walked over to the sink and wiped it clean, with only bleach. Then I turned on the water filling it up, and dumped some in. When the sink was full with water and bleach, I grabbed a rag and began scrubbing down everything. The fridge, to the counters and windows to walls.