I found myself on the roof of Julie's garage once again, taking in the beautiful views of California. I wasn't thinking about anything in particular, just wondering about the thousands of lives I saw before me. I saw people walking down the streets, some alone, some in groups. I watched cars zoom down the streets, some slow, some fast. I could just about make out the houses in the distance.
That was when I caught sight of the house Luke kept staring at. Only this time, I could see people walking in and out. Two people to be exact.
Curiosity getting the best of me, I left the rooftop and reappeared in the suburbs.
The house was a lot grander up close. It was the type of house I had always dreamed of living in as a kid ; lots of windows, modern design but with a cosy feel, plenty of room for growth. It wasn't a mansion in beverly hills, but it was perfect. I wanted to know what kind of people lived in this type of house. I wanted to tell Luke about the kind of people that lived in this type of house, the house that he seemed to long for.
I walked through the door to see an old couple sitting in the lounge. The lady held a book in her hands, curled up on the sofa. The man read the newspaper as he drank a cup of coffee. So far, I could see the kind of people who lived in this house were content with a simple life, and I found that quite beautiful.
The best way to understand a house was to look at the pictures the owners had displayed in it, so I looked around the lounge for picture frames. There were plenty. The old couple appeared to have a son, or maybe a grandson, but not much else. It was clear that they were proud of this boy and loved him very much based on the fact that he was the only one they had pictures of.
Upon closer inspection, I realised it must have been their son. There were some older pictures where they were all photographed together.
In one of the photos, the older lady's hair was a deep brown and her skin was like porcelain - she was almost unrecognisable - but I could tell it was her based on her kind brown eyes which never appeared to have lost their youth. It was weird how familiar her eyes looked. In the photo, she was standing beside her son, who shared her eyes, and they appeared to be at the beach.
Another picture showed the father and son, but the son was much older and was proudly holding up an award of some sort. The father stood tall and proud beside him. The two looked nothing alike, it was clear the boy took after his mother.
I decided to give myself a tour around the house. Naturally, I wandered into the kitchen to see what was cooking. There appeared to be a cake in the oven. Either an event was coming up, or those two really liked baked goods.
I made my way up the stairs to see a variety of doors at the top. I suddenly realised this was a severe invasion of privacy, but what they didn't know wouldn't kill them. Then again if I would have known those hot dogs weren't exactly safe to eat ...
I said I would go into one of the rooms and leave. Surely that would give me all the information I needed to bring back to Luke, but little did I know what I would uncover by walking through the door at the very end of the landing would change the whole story.
It was clearly their son's room. Unless the old couple were going through a severe rock music phase. Posters of Nirvana, AC/DC and Green Day covered the walls. There were clothes thrown on the floor, mostly socks and skinny jeans. There weren't nearly as many pictures as there were in the lounge, but one stood out to me.
On the nightstand, there was a simple black-framed picture.
The picture was of Luke and his mother.
I had to leave.