Four Months

19. Broken Floor Boards

Ashton opened the large Cherokee wooden door with a gold key that was attached to his own keys I'd never recognized before.

We had drove about 4 hours away from the University, into a small town that was lit up by only the porch lights and few street lights.

It was apparent to me as soon as we had reached the town with a population of 2,579-- established in 1819, that this wasn't a place a traveler would just stumble across on.

We had taken two exits to get here on backroads that didn't provide enough light given from the headlights, stars, or moon.

But in the midst of it all, I could sense the familiarity of it off of him. How he made a small smile passing through the small two-story buildings made town, that got its structure from the architects of the 40's. Everytime his head naturally snapped to the sight of playground, or the only high school we had passed in town.

He pushed the door aside and nodded for me to enter inside, taking his key from the rather slightly rusted golden door knob and following in behind me.

I walked inside the dark home, right into a living room. With a brown couch and common red patterned living room rug with yellow and baige detailing. To the left of the room nearby the entrance, Cherokee wooden stairs that led up about three stories high, but wasn't at all taller than an average two story motel.

"Is this—?"

"My home." He finished. "Yeah, it is."

"Ashton, your home, I mean it's beautiful. It's older but it's beautiful still. I mean everything still looks so kept up for no one to live in it," I replied walking over to the fireplace looking at a few pictures of middle school Ashton in a too-big youths hockey uniform, grinning ear to ear. I smiled and picked up the photo, holding in gentle in my hands.

"That night I scored two goals for my team. We won with only two points that night. My first official hockey game, playing for the school. I remember as soon as it was over mom drove me out for icecream at this little parlor across the park. It became like a ritual for us, no matter if I scored, or the team won, or we lost. Always icecream at Jerry's after every single game." He smiled looking at the picture from over my shoulder.

"Your mom seemed like the best," I replied setting the picture back down and moving over towards a toddler Ashton in stripped blue overalls covered in sand, some turning to mud from his drools around his chest—sitting in a sandbox, laughing.

"Aw, now this is adorable. Look at you and how little you were. Let me guess Circa 89'? I teased.

"My mom used to tell me all the time that she would put that outfit on me atleast once a week because of how adorable she thought I looked in it. She loved the baby rompers but my— my dad... hated it. Insisited that they were for little girls not little boys. So after my mom came home with that little one piece, that was it for my long lived days as a romper model." He chuckled , lightly throwing his head back, waves vibrating off his adams apple.

"So this is where the famous Ashton was raised and bred in the flesh." I turned to him on my toes, unaware of close proximity, stepping back slightly enough to feel my head touch the protruding wood holding the youthful Ashton montages.

"Yup. Alot of memories in this place. After I went off to college, my mom was the only one living here. My dad tried to sell it but she didn't let him do it, she got an extra job and worked off the remaining few bills and kept up maintenance here on her own. She loved this house, she used to sit on the front porch and just watch me for hours running around out there by myself, or riding my bike." He walked into the dinning room scanning the home, as if he was reliving every memory created here.