5020 Ashberry Road, Carlsbad, California.
The following note is just 10 minutes away. My mom's painting was ten minutes away. I look over at Aaren, singing along to the radio while looking at his phone, displaying Google Maps, which also direct us to our destination.
I gaze out the window, wandering a place that sits within my imagination and wondering what does Elise want me to do after collecting all of the eleven notes she has written. Was it even supposed to be there in the first place? Maybe it's for my mother to find out, but instead of her finding out, I discovered it, or perhaps it found me.
December 11th. I'll never forget Elise's death on December 11th. How could I possibly forget that? December should be a month of joy and love, not a month of mourning, weeping, and remembering the worst memories.
"We're here," Aaren parks the car then switches the radio off after. He turns the keys, pulling them from the ignition.
"It's that house," He points at the house outside on my side of the window.
I stare at him, and he stares back at me. I step out of the car with ease, standing in the scorching sun, squinting my eyes as I look at the house just a few feet away.
From the outside, it appears to be an average four-person family home. It's nearly identical to Clarissa's house, but Clarissa's was slightly larger. As he jogs towards my side, I turn around and wait for Aaren to lock the car.
"Let's go," He says as I tail behind him.
Before ringing the doorbell, he pokes his head through the window to see if anyone is nearby. We both stood up appropriately when we heard the doorbell ring.
"Are you sure this is the right house?" I ask Aaren.
The door swings open before Aaren can even respond. "How can I help you two?" an elderly lady asks, beaming.
"My name is Aaren Walters, and this is Lauren Sanders," he says. As Aaren points at me, I smile at her. "I sent you a message on Facebook about the painting you posted and said I could drop by?"
"Ah, yes," the old lady says, nodding her head. "You wanted to buy the painting?" she asks.
I look at Aaren, squinting my eyes, "Nnn-Yes...?" He says, sounding obviously unsure.
I mouthed to Aaren, "I thought she wasn't selling it," and he shrugged his shoulders in response to my question. "Would you mind if I looked at it before buying the painting?" Aaren inquires softly, continuing to smile at the elderly woman.
She nods and takes a step to the side of the door, motioning for both of us to enter. After stepping inside, I follow Aaren, while Aaren follows the elderly woman. She looks around as she guides us up the stairs and says, "I'm Emilia." Do you enjoy art buying as well?"
The home exuded warmth from the front door to the spacious hallway. Photographs of two teenage girls adorned the walls. The floor was an old-fashioned porcelain tile with a rich color grey and brown mix that resembled marbled, and the ceilings were painted a soft yellow with a bold white baseboard.
"Yes, we do," Aaren says, glaring at me.
"Emilia continues to lead us to a white door as she says, "I like buying contemporary paintings." She turns around and continues, "I like to keep these artworks hidden where my friends wouldn't be able to touch them," We all come to a halt as Emilia opens the door.
My mother used to hide her paintings after they had dried. She'd stow them in the empty room next to their bedroom. She'd lock the door and keep the keys hidden from the rest of us. Elise loves messing around with mom's paintings, either destroying or painting them.
Instead of being angry with my sister, my mom hugged her when she found out what she did. I remember mom whispering something in Elise's ear that made her smile. "I'm sorry, mommy," Elise said as she stood beside me, nodding her head, "I'll never do it again."
My mother sold the portrait that my sister had ruined, and it sold for $19,000. When I asked Elise, what mom had said to her, she said it was a secret she would never reveal. Elise, as far as I'm aware, loves keeping secrets. She absolutely loved it when people told her secrets because it meant they trusted her.
As Emilia entered the room, we followed her. Paintings were hung from top to bottom on the walls. Paintings by contemporary artists, abstract artists, and a few surrealists. It's the kind of room I figured my mother would adore—also, it's the kind of space I'd genuinely love, but why can't I seem to adore this room?
"Here is the painting," Emilia says, standing in front of it. The only free space in this room is the ceiling. Though, I wouldn't suggest hanging a painting on the ceiling.
The painting itself didn't bother me as I was focused on getting the note. My gaze was drawn to my mother's signature and the date on the canvas. The year is 2010. Behind this portrait, I'll be able to find the following note. Now all I have to do is take it—
"Please, don't touch it unless you're planning on buying it," Emilia says. I look at Aaren as I casually place my hand back down.
"Sorry," I say.
Aaren gives me this look before cocking his head in the direction of the painting. "Would you mind showing me where your toilet is?" he asks. "I just need to go badly."
Emilia gives him a friendly smile and says, "Sure." Emilia steps out of the room, and Aaren follows her, whispering before leaving me, "Go get your note."
I swiftly lift the painting off the wall and run my hand around the frame, trying to touch all of the edges and feeling it, wishing there was a piece of paper underneath it. I snatched a piece of paper, poking my finger from behind the frame, almost causing the painting to fall. I quickly grab the canvas before it falls to the ground and adequately hang it on the wall. As I see a number two scribbled on top of the folded piece of paper I was holding, my heart begins to race.
"Sometimes the best moment to sing a victory song is in THE middle of your BATTLE," quoting Jeremy Riddle, as I open the paper and read it.
There was nothing else written on the back of the paper when I checked it. "The battle" was the only clue I received.
Perhaps there's another note hidden behind a painting, as I recall seeing another painting with my mother's signature inside this room earlier when I first walked in. I look around the room, inspecting each painting for my mother's signature, which I quickly locate. I slowly lifted the canvas, trying to re-feel the frame's edges, and felt a piece of paper poking me. I grab it and notice the number four scribbled on it.
I hear Aaren's voice from a few steps away before I can even open the note. When I turn around, Aaren and Emilia are both smiling at what Aaren is saying. They were both smiling as they looked at me.
"What do you think about the painting?" Emilia asks.
I smile at her and say, "I like it. We'll probably consider buying this," I look at Aaren as I lied about buying it. Emilia clasps both of her hands together.
"That's perfect. I'll give you my number and call me if ever you want to buy the painting," Emilia says as I nod my head.
"Would you like to buy this other painting?" Emilia is referring to the canvas I recently lifted from the wall. "They said it came with this when I bought that painting." She points at the first painting we saw earlier.
Aaren and I exchanged looks. Aaren quickly says, "Sure, we'll think about it."
Emilia takes a piece of paper from the table next to the door and begins writing down her phone number. She has the piece of paper in her hand, waiting for me to take it, but instead, she looks at Aaren and smiles, handing him the piece of paper.
"Here's my number," Emilia says to Aaren.
I try my hardest not to cringe as I look at Aaren and then back at Emilia.
"Thanks," Aaren smiles, grabbing it.
Aaren leads me out of the room and down the stairwell. Before we leave, we want to express our gratitude to Emilia for taking the time to show us around and show us the painting. She never smiled at me; instead, she spent most of her time staring at Aaren and smiling at him.
"She was clearly flirting with you," I said as we got back into the car, turning to my side and looking at Aaren. "I can't believe an elderly lady is flirting with you."
"I can't believe it either," He says as he chuckles. "So, did you get it?"
I nod and reach into my pocket for the two pieces of paper I found after my search.
"Two notes in one painting?" He says, grabbing the pieces of paper from my hand, "Cool!"
"It's from two different paintings," I say as I quickly snatch it from Aaren's hand, "I think they're not connected because number three is missing."
"Well, did you open it?" He asks.
I nodded my head and said, "I didn't open number 4."
He looks at me and says, "Open it, then. I won't look," he closes his eyes and covers it with both of his hands like a child. I smile at the sight of him.
I open the number 4 note, and all it says was: 3080 Lincoln Street, Carlsbad, California.
I look at Aaren and say, "I don't get it."
He opens his eyes and looks at me, confused.
"May I have a look?" I nod in response to his question. "Yeah, I think you really need the third note to understand this note," he says as he takes the note from me and reads the two pieces of paper.
He holds up the note that has the number four scribbled on it. Both of us looked at the notes, and soon I understood what it meant. House number 24 at 3080 Lincoln Street. That was the location of our house.
"I think I know where the next note is," I said.
"Which one? The number three or the number five?" He asks.
"I think both."
❀
When we arrived at my old home, all of my memories came flooding back. I can clearly picture Elise running around the front yard with her giant bubble wand, which dad made for her. Mom was sitting outside, behind her canvas, laughing at the sight of me as I try to pop Elise's bubbles.
That day was in the summer of 2014. I recall it vividly because it was also the moment when my father attempted to bake cookies for us and almost set the house on fire. Because the smoke alarm had gone off, my father dashed out of the house. When he walked out of the house, he took a bag and said, "Pack your things!" to all of us. "There's a fire in the house."
My mother dashed inside the house, and we all waited for her to return. She went out laughing after five minutes of waiting and said, "There was no fire. It was just the smoke alarm." We all watched her bite into a charred cookie she was holding, "I think you should lay off from baking, honey," my mom said as dad cringed at the sight of her swallowing the cookie.
"Should we even be here?" Aaren asks questions as we both gaze out the window on my side. The house was surrounded by yellow tape, and I hadn't visited this place in two years.
When I told Clarissa that I wanted to stay at our home even though both of my parents had passed away, she informed me that they were planning to sell it and that I would be unable to stay here even if I wanted to. It's one of the primary reasons I decided to stay with Clarissa and Savannah, but now that I'm back, I realize they lied to me about it.
"It's all right. I say, "It's my house," as I step out of the car, feeling a throbbing pain in my chest. I forced myself to walk up to the house, then stopped in front of the yellow tape, ignoring the feeling of my anxiety attack growing.
"Are you sure about this?" Aaren looks at me, tapping my shoulder. "Isn't this illegal?" I remember the time he first told me that when we were in front of Bill's studio.
I give him a reassuring grin and tell him, "It's my home, and I'm sure."
I ducked over and lifted the yellow tape, allowing Aaren to do the same. I let go of the yellow tape then went towards the front door, hearing my own footsteps on the front porch. I pushed open the half-open front door.
I snatched my phone from my pocket and switched on the flashlight, trying to figure out where the following note was. It could be in the basement or in my mom's art room, where she kept her paintings.
"Could you take a look in the basement?" I told Aaren, "I'll go check the room upstairs," and he nodded as I showed him where the basement was. Before I got up the staircase, I waited for him to go to the basement.
Suddenly, the pain in my chest becomes more intense. Because of the anxiety that had built up inside of me, both of my hands were starting to tremble. I grabbed my shirt, clutched it tightly as I came to a halt in front of the room where my mother kept all of her paintings.
If it weren't for the dust covering the whole place from ceiling to floor, the area would still look like home. The door was locked when I turned the knob. I tried breaking it open, but I didn't have much energy left actually to try again.
I was startled to hear a whisper coming from my sister's room across the hall. I found myself walking towards her bedroom after following the voice calling out my name, grabbing my full attention.
When I walked into her room, the whispering disappeared. I would always see my mother sleeping on her bed after Elise died, or I would hear her crying inside Elise's bedroom before she fell asleep. It hurts me to see her like that, but it hurts me even more that I can't do anything about it at that time.
I went over to the drawers and opened them, hoping to find something. The first drawer was stuffed with photos of Elise's friends and some of the drawings she made. The next drawer was brimming with art supplies and school supplies. I found the third note on the last drawer.
Confused as to why it was here, I grabbed it, opened it, and started reading the note's contents.
I am a testimony of love.
Signifier of commitment
All it needs is
A bottle of wine
And a band that shines.
It was a riddle I was all too familiar with but couldn't solve because I'm clueless when it comes to riddles. I'm not even sure why riddles exist at all. I swiftly switched off the flashlight on my phone when I heard footsteps behind me. Aaren's voice then called out my name. As I stood up from the floor and went out of Elise's room, I let go of the breath I hadn't realized I was holding in.
"I found it," I say before he could even speak when he saw me. "But I don't get this," I added as I hand him over the note.
"It's a riddle," He says.
I rolled my eyes and said, "Obviously."
"I am a testimony of love, signifier of commitment. All it needs is a bottle of wine and a band that shines?" He says as he looks up from me.
"Don't look at me. I don't know the answer to that," I say, shrugging at him.
There was a brief moment of silence between the two of us as Aaren considered his options. He smiles as he looks at me and adds, "An engagement proposal."
"An engagement proposal?" I furrow my eyebrows, questioning his answer.
He nods at me. "Do you know where your father proposed to your mother?" he asks a question as I shake my head, trying to recall when my father told us the story, but I can't seem to remember it.
"I think that's where the next note is," Aaren says, sounding confident about it.
I was about to say something when we both heard someone shouting down the stairs, "Is anyone there?" I glanced at Aaren, my eyes wide, as I quickly closed my mouth. As we heard the person down the stairs wandering around the first floor of the house, we both froze in place.
Aaren whispers to me, "We have to run." I lock my gaze on him, my brows furrowed as if to ask him if he's nuts. "We don't have much choice."
I quietly rolled my eyes and nodded my head. He slipped the note into his jean pocket and grabbed my hand, saying, "On three," as he began counting down.
One.
I inhaled deeply three times and exhaled. That's what my psychiatrist and Clarissa used to tell me to do if I felt like my anxiety was about to kick in.
Two.
I pressed my lips together, but I could feel my heart racing inside my chest as I tried not to think about being caught at my own home.
"Wait, is it one, two, three or three, two, one?" I asked too loudly.
"Hey!" I hear the person down the stairs immediately walking up towards us.
"Three!" He starts to drag me down the stairs. As we were running past the person inside the home, Aaren yelled and quickly ran down the stairs. Before we left the house running, I heard a loud thud. Aaren and I dashed inside the car as we drove away from the house before the person could even get a look at us.
"You nearly got us caught!" Aaren exclaims as he looks at me.
When I shifted my gaze towards him, I burst out laughing. The irritated expression on his face vanishes as he joins in my laughter.
Before we could return home, we went to the diner to discuss this plan I had in mind, and we couldn't help but laugh again about what had happened earlier at the house.
***