Written in collaboration with Bobby Myers
Art by Matt Houston
Eden sat alone at the dining room table. He sat where he could view the living room, which to him was the warmest, most nostalgic room in the house – old photographs hung on its walls, each marked by the passage of time. Some were yellowed and some were tinted red. In the photos Eden could see himself when he was younger, whether by several years or several months, and sometimes he looked at a photo of himself when he was five and wondered how he could be sixteen now.
Below the living room window was a faded blue loveseat, and on the loveseat was Eden’s friend Sarah, her hands locked behind her head, her feet propped on the armrest. Eden brought his gaze to her relaxed form, to the smooth contours of her body. He casually admired the press of her skin against her shirt, and then brought his gaze back up, this time to check the clock beside the window.
As soon as his eyes settled upon its face, the clock tolled one, two, three, four . . .
‘Five,’ Sarah said.
Eden nodded.
‘But it’s so dark already.’
‘It’s the end of November,’ Eden reminded her. ‘And it’s raining.’
Sarah held him in her gaze and smiled. She then closed her eyes, feeling the jazz rhythm of the rain as it pattered against the windows. A torrential downpour was dropping down hard on the dark road outside. Thin streams of rainwater formed on the glass of the living room window, and the streams’ shadows crawled towards Eden on the living room floor.
‘Eden,’ Sara said eventually, ‘why are we inside on such a nice day?’
‘I’m . . . not good with being wet?’
Sarah looked at him and frowned.
‘Oh, you poor boy,’ she said. She sat up and crossed her legs, the shadows of raindrops veining her jeans. ‘Don’t you know that wetness makes things grow? It’s life. There’s no reason for us to be cooped up in your dry and stagnant house. We could be outside! Right now! Doing— Well, I don’t know.’
Eden gave her a blank look.
‘It’s just not right,’ she added.
Eden’s response came in the form of his usual monotone: ‘I’d catch a cold.’
‘But you’re already cold,’ Sarah told him, tilting her head. ‘And . . . boring.’
Eden slid his chair back with a sigh and got up stiffly. He walked over to Sarah and leaned over her; Sarah sunk back in her seat, trying to maintain the space of a single inch between them.
‘A flame is only temporary,’ he told her. ‘We’ll see how long you last.’
He then straightened and headed towards the front door. With his eyes focused on Sarah’s, Eden opened the door, letting in an immediate chill that filled the entire room. Sarah shivered. She quickly pulled her sleeves over her hands and pressed her knees into her chest.
‘Oh, come on,’ Eden said. ‘You said you wanted to go outside – we’re going outside.’
Sarah gave the open doorway a timid stare. She then flicked her eyes to Eden’s.
‘Do you have an umbrella?’ she asked.
‘No.’
‘Liar.’
‘Yes, I am,’ he admitted. ‘You can go ahead and grab a coat from the rack. Whichever one you want; I don’t really care.’
‘Huh? You mean I can have it?’
‘Yes.’
Sarah got up and checked the coat rack. She went through each of the coats carefully, inspecting them for any deficiencies, testing the colours against her shirt and jeans. After feeling the weight of Eden’s impatience fall upon her, she decided on a blue jacket, one with an orange zipper. She slipped into it and zipped up, then spread her arms out for Eden’s approval.
‘It’s a jacket. It keeps you warm.’
Sarah gave him one of her big, fake pouts.
‘Who cares what it looks like?’ Eden continued.
‘I do,’ she said. ‘Now, where’s that umbrella?’
Eden tossed Sarah her boots, which bounced off her arms and landed on the floor between them. He then folded his hands behind his back and waited for her in silence. Sarah pulled on the boots and stepped slowly, mournfully towards the doorway, the floorboards creaking – or, as she heard them, snickering – beneath her.
‘Don’t you think you’re overdoing it?’ Eden asked. ‘Hurry up, please.’
Sarah sailed ghostlike past Eden, through the doorway and onto the rain-slicked wood of the front porch. Eden watched as she used the handrail to support herself, each step down threatening to turn the world on its head, until finally she made it to the bottom of the steps and splashed a small puddle. Eden closed the door behind him and followed after; he joined her at the bottom of the steps, the rain falling relentlessly upon their heads.
‘Where to?’ he asked.
Sarah squinted at him through rain-clogged eyelashes, her eyes still adjusting to the rain.
‘Anywhere? I don’t really have a plan. I just wanted to walk.’
‘Then we’ll walk.’
A sharp autumn wind pierced through the fabric of Eden’s suit jacket and he shivered as a mild chill spread throughout his body. The sensation was not altogether unpleasant. Sarah appeared to be fine as well, but Eden found that he did not actually know as much about people as he would have liked. He did not know how Sarah felt or thought about some things, for example, and this sometimes frightened him.
Together they walked down the middle of the street. The trees lining the lawns on either side of them had been stripped of their leaves. Winter was coming. Everyone with sense was sitting inside the comfortable confines of their homes, and through the rain Eden could spy smoke billowing out of their chimneys.
‘I don’t want to meet some guy that only likes me because I have certain pants,’ Sarah said, and Eden realised he had not been paying attention to her for the past several minutes.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Sara went ahead and changed the subject.
‘I love the rain. I don’t like how cold it gets, but . . . Sun showers are nice. They’re probably why I like rain so much. You know: when the sun is shining, and it’s warm outside, but there’s still rain coming down.’
A sudden onrush of wind hit Sarah and she hugged herself for warmth.
‘It’s all right,’ Eden said absently.
The streetlamps came to life just then, spotlighting them in gold. At the end of the block they crossed an empty intersection. Eden knew of a small, artificial park nearby, situated between two old brick buildings, and he steered them towards it as they stepped through patches of light. On the other side of the street was an old man reading a newspaper in a bus shelter.
Sarah laid her hand on Eden’s shoulder, bringing him back to the world of perpetual rain. A small playground was brought to his attention, and Eden looked from it to Sarah’s gleeful face.
‘Come on,’ Sarah said, ‘let’s swing.’
‘No.’
Sarah crossed her arms and managed to frown while smiling.
‘The seats are wet,’ Eden explained.
‘But we’re already wet!’
Eden sighed.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘All right, fine.’
Sarah skipped to the swing set and made futile attempts at wiping the rainwater from a rubber seat. She then plopped down, and Eden sat on the seat beside her without expressing the slightest hint of emotion.
After a moment of sitting, Sarah fumbled in her pocket and struggled to pull a small kit out of her wet jeans. When the kit was opened, the object inside glimmered by the light of a streetlamp. Eden saw that the object was a syringe.
‘What’s that for?’
‘What, this?’ Sarah pulled the syringe out of the case and waved it around.
‘Yeah. What is that?’
Sarah smiled mischievously, a dozen answers passing through her mind. She decided to be truthful instead.
‘I have diabetes,’ she told him. ‘I forgot to take my medication inside.’
‘Shouldn’t you wait until we’re indoors for that? It could look like something else to someone passing by.’
They exchanged looks, and both their looks said ‘don’t be an idiot.’ Sarah quietly placed the needle back into the kit, the kit back into her pocket. She slowly started up her swing, building a gentle momentum.
‘I like brick buildings,’ she murmured.
Eden remained completely still. He stared silently at the row of flowers in front of them, their petals twitching in the rain.
‘You know, I really like this town,’ Sarah said softly.
Eden suddenly stood, giving Sarah a start. He stepped behind her and grabbed the links of her chains, bringing her to a halt, and gently wrapped his arms around her.
‘You’re not supposed to get extinguished this quickly,’ he told her. ‘You’re supposed to always be happy.’
Sarah said nothing. She simply watched her breath as it appeared and disappeared into the air in front of her. She then pulled herself away from Eden.
Freeing herself awkwardly from the swing, she just barely managed to catch herself before she stumbled into the grass, accidentally tearing a flower loose with her boot. She closed her eyes and turned around, stray drops of water flying from her hair; when she opened her eyes again, Eden was staring at her silently, his hands once more holding the chains of her swing.
Sarah looked down. The torn flower was still by her boot, and she bent down to pick it up. It felt limp and lifeless between her fingers, but she held it lovingly with both of her hands as she stood back up.
She held the flower up to her right eye and looked at Eden with her left. After a few seconds of this, she closed her left eye and looked at the blurry representation of the too-close flower with her right.
‘What are you doing?’ came the sound of Eden’s voice through the rain.
‘I’m looking at you,’ Sarah said. ‘You’re a flower now. A broken flower, but still.’
Eden’s clammy fingers wrapped around her own. He picked the flower from her hand, returning him to view, and then tapped her forehead with the end of the stem.
‘What are you, then?’ he asked. ‘If I’m a flower, then you must be something like a miracle. Because I’m definitely not a flower.’
‘You’re supposed to tell me,’ she said. ‘You’re supposed to be romantic and tell me that I’m a flower, that you find me beautiful, and that you love me.’
‘But I don’t love you. We’re friends.’
Lightning struck close by, casting them in momentary brilliance, and the following crash of thunder caused Sarah to jump a foot into the air.
‘If . . . If you count from when lightning strikes to when you hear thunder, you can figure out how far away the lightning is,’ Sarah said quickly.
‘I think you’re right,’ Eden said, twisting the flower between his thumb and forefinger.
‘We should probably get away from these trees,’ he added.
‘Ah, yeah,’ Sarah said, smiling desperately. ‘Because that’s where lightning strikes.’
Eden nodded and let the flower drop to the ground.
‘I have to wonder,’ he said. ‘If the odds of getting hit by lightning are so great, would that mean you would be lucky to get hit by lightning?’
‘Of course not.’
Eden shrugged. He began heading back in the direction of his house and Sarah trailed after. A white car blinded them with its headlights, and then the pair crossed the street, kicking up puddles as they went. Eden flashed a quick glance back at Sarah to ensure she was following him. He saw her out of breath and clutching the front of her jacket.
As they neared the house, something seemed off to Eden. For some reason there only appeared to be grass where his house should have been. Closer now, he saw that his house had actually vanished completely.
The back of his brain caught fire at the sight of it: what he saw, then and there, could not have been real.
‘What is this?’ Eden asked the empty space. ‘What the hell?’
He turned to Sarah as if she could answer him, as if she could explain why there was a perfect square of freshly-cut grass in place of his house. Sarah stepped silently and cautiously onto the grass, and Eden looked up one side of the street and then down the other. He looked at the naked sides of his neighbour’s houses, and he looked at the backyard beyond his square of grass. Sarah rubbed the side of her face as she inspected the ground around her. Water droplets formed at the sharp ends of her hair and fell quietly to the muddied grass.
‘Maybe someone stole it,’ she suggested, but then clamped her mouth shut when she saw the small explosions of confusion and frustration on Eden’s face.
‘People don’t steal houses,’ he seethed. He ran his fingers through his hair and bit down on his knuckle. ‘The driveway is gone, too.’
‘What?’
Eden took the knuckle out of his mouth.
‘The driveway is gone, too,’ he repeated.
Sarah saw that it was true – the driveway was gone as well, with grass where the pavement should have been.
‘I . . . don’t know what to tell you. Maybe you’re dreaming.’
Eden looked at her in disgust.
‘Are you dreaming?’ he spat.
‘No.’
‘Then shut up and let me think.’
He again ran his fingers through his hair. He tapped his chin as he watched the rain, tracing each drop as it fell from heaven to earth.
‘I’m going to call the police,’ he said finally.
‘Okay,’ Sarah said. ‘Do you have a phone?’
Eden considered this for a moment and then flattened all of his pockets. He made a face.
‘I left it in my house. I’ll have to use a payphone.’
‘Okay,’ Sara said again. She then smiled widely. ‘This is really strange!’
Eden jammed his hands in his pockets and rushed down the street. Sarah kept pace, panting as she went. Once more they reached the intersection, this time without crossing the street – Eden headed towards the bus shelter where the old man had been, recalling a phone booth on the other side. They soon saw it through the darkness.
Eden pushed in the booth’s rain-slicked plastic door and went inside, positioning himself awkwardly between the phone and wall when he saw that Sarah was coming in after.
‘Get out,’ he said. ‘There isn’t room for two people.’
‘But I wanna help solve the mystery,’ she said, pouting.
Eden tried rearranging himself.
‘I can feel my spine twisting.’
Sarah picked up the receiver and set it in the space between Eden’s face and the black plastic of the phone. She then reached into his pants’ pocket and pulled out what little change he had been carrying: a couple dimes, a toonie and a quarter. She held the quarter up to the phone’s slot and awaited his command.
‘Do it.’
‘You do know that calling the police is free,’ she said as she popped the quarter into the phone.
Eden sighed. Sarah dialled three digits and the phone rang twice before—
‘911,’ said a half-bored voice. ‘Please state the emergency.’
Eden found himself hesitating.
‘Um . . . yeah,’ he fumbled. ‘My, um, house is missing.’
An expected silence ensued.
‘Hello?’
‘Sir, it’s an offence to use this line for anything other than a legitimate emergency.’
‘Then send out someone to arrest me! They can see how legitimate this is.’
‘Tell them your house is missing again,’ Sarah whispered. ‘It’ll sound more real that way.’
Eden looked at her blankly. He then looked out at the black shadow of his neighbourhood through the phone booth’s dirtied, rain-stained wall, and was struck with amazement at how an area he had considered home for sixteen years could suddenly feel so totally alien to him. He was also struck with the realisation that he no longer had anything left to lose.
‘Listen, my house is really missing,’ he said into the phone, ‘and I’d appreciate it if you sent some help right now.’
They could hear the banshee cry of sirens build up in the distance. Soon two patrol calls turned onto the street, their lights a swirling spectrum of blues and reds in the clattering rain. The cars came to a halt in front of Eden and Sarah, standing close together for warmth, their feet firmly planted on the soil of Eden’s lawn. Eden had already come to think of his house as his lawn at this point.
A black officer and a white officer got out of the car closest to the pair. They carried themselves with an animalistic swagger, exuding a sense of authority as though it were cheap cologne. The black officer approached the pair while the white officer stood with arms akimbo, his eyes boring intently into those of the two youths standing before him.
‘Good day,’ the black officer intoned with punishing bass. ‘I’m Officer Brandt. You Eden?’
‘Yes.’
‘You called about a missing house?’
‘Yes. Where we’re standing right now is where my house should be.’
‘But it’s not.’
‘Right.’
The officers from the other car had gotten out and were already inspecting the premises. Their faces were expertly-crafted masks, preventing Eden from being able to tell if they were taking this seriously or not. Sarah held her gaze on the rainwater rolling down a drainage ditch, and it was in this way she managed to avoid eye contact with the police officers.
‘When did you last see your house?’
‘A couple hours ago. We went to a park, came back and saw that my house had vanished. We then called the police and waited.’
Officer Brandt sighed.
‘You know what I think, Eden? I’m thinking we should bring you to the station for further questions. It’s miserable out here.’
Eden nodded.
‘You two can wait in the car while I talk to those guys out in the field there.’
‘Sure. Is it all right if I ask you something, though?’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Have you . . . ever seen anything like this before? I mean . . .’
‘No. We’re as much in the dark as you are. But don’t worry – this should be an easy one to figure out. Houses don’t go missing. And even if it is missing, it shouldn’t be all that hard to find. Right? It’s probably just some mistake.’
Eden nodded uncertainly.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Thanks.’
The white officer, who Eden now thought of as Officer White, opened the patrol car’s rear door for them. Sarah got in first. Eden sat beside her and peered out her window at the intact houses across the street. He then looked through his own window and watched as the four officers went over the lawn with flashlights; when finished, they closed off the area with yellow tape, designating it a crime scene.
‘Though the crime itself is unfathomable,’ muttered Eden.
The officers got into their cars and fired up the engines. Officers Brandt and White barely spoke as they drove Eden and Sarah to the station downtown – when they did speak, it was to themselves and of inane things. They spoke of the pop-up ads on dictionary websites. Eden and Sarah, on the other hand, did not say a single word between them, instead losing themselves in their thoughts as their gazes flowed over the buildings lining the misted streets.
Eventually the cars coasted out of the suburban neighbourhood and into an empty commercial district. Eden discreetly turned his head to look at Sarah, who was leaning her head against the glass of her window: she was eyeing an abandoned amusement park, covered in rust and an overgrowth of weeds, a place that had been closed down even when they were kids. The skeleton of a rollercoaster rose ominously above the grounds, and all of the concession stands had been rotted through. Eden watched Sarah’s face as she watched this scene – watched as the diaphanous light of streetlamps cast cold blue shadows over her face. She turned to look at him and he turned away. Through his window he saw that they had reached downtown.
In the rain most of the buildings looked exactly the same, so much so that Eden felt his window could have been a photograph of the same building over and over, that the world outside his window was nothing other than a still in movement. Department stores and hotels gave way to convenience stores, packed tightly between three-story apartment buildings, which gave way to even smaller businesses: donated clothiers, antique stores, used bookshops, fabric stores and cafés. As the cars neared the police station, Eden again turned to Sarah: this time she was sleeping, her head rolling with the bumps of the street, her breath steadily fogging the glass of her window.
The car came to a stop in the station’s parking lot. Officer White opened Eden’s door for him and bent down to peer inside; when he saw that Sarah was sleeping, he motioned for Eden to wake her. Eden reached over and gently shook her by the shoulder. Sarah made some sounds, stretched and wiped her eyes.
‘Come on,’ Eden said.
The officers led them to the front entrance, found at the end of a short path flanked with tall black trees, the trees’ branches bouncing from the still-heavy rain. Between the trees could be spotted a fountain topped with the statue of a lion, and it looked to Eden like the lion was eating something.
The station’s automatic doors slid open for them, and Eden and Sarah were immediately blinded by the too-bright lights, a sudden shock after the hours of darkness they had stood through. Equally jarring was the sudden quiet: other than the rattle of an oversized heater – which was already warming their chilled bodies – and the deadpan promises of coffee from the officers, the station was completely silent. Through the globs of white now trapped in their visions the pair could make out a long desk and some folding chairs, but all of the folding chairs were empty, and the officer standing at the desk did not appear to be particularly interested in the new arrivals.
The pair followed the officers down a hall as a meek feeling of embarrassment washed over them – rain was dripping from their hair and clothes, leaving a trail of wet behind. The officers led them past a kiosk surrounded by other officers and some receptionists, variously filling Styrofoam cups with coffee and chatting as they waited for their patrols to start.
Finally the pair was led into a small, simple room consisting of a man sitting at a table with two empty chairs in front of it. Officers Brandt and White left them there, closing the frosted door behind them.
The man at the table was writing something into a notepad. He then stabbed the notepad with his pen and made eye contact with Eden.
‘Hello,’ the man at the table said. ‘I’m Ben. How can I help you today?’
‘I, er, think we’re supposed to answer some questions,’ Eden said. ‘It’s about my missing house.’
Ben tugged at his lip for a moment.
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Please sit down.’
Eden and Sarah sat in the sturdy wooden chairs, which they found to be surprisingly comfortable. Ben smiled and brought his hand up, waving his pen in Eden’s direction.
‘Yeah,’ Ben said. ‘Now I know – you’re the guy who lost his house!’
Eden looked to Sarah uncertainly.
‘Eden,’ Ben said. ‘“And the Lord God planted a garden in Eden, in the east; and there he put the man whom he had formed.” Right?’
‘Right,’ Eden said. ‘Something like that.’
‘So when was the last time you saw your house?’
Eden thought about it for a moment.
‘A few hours ago.’
Ben looked at his wristwatch. He then looked to Eden quizzically.
‘Could you be more specific?’
‘I can’t. It was whenever my call was placed.’
‘Oh?’
‘I . . . don’t keep track of time very well.’
‘Oh! I see.’
Ben leaned back in his chair and tapped his lips with his pen. He then suddenly leant forward and flipped through the pages of his notepad.
‘A quick report over the phone says there has never been a house in that area. It does not exist in the city registry.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Sarah asked, speaking up with an unexpected burst of animation. ‘That doesn’t make any sense! I’m a witness – I was there today.’
‘Really? Well, I’m afraid there isn’t anything we can do about it right now. We’ll look into it, of course, but . . . Are there any relatives you can stay with for now?’
Eden shook his head.
‘No.’
‘You can stay at my place,’ Sarah said cheerfully.
Eden looked at her blankly.
‘Okay, then it’s settled! You’re staying at my place tonight!’
Sarah pulled out her cell to call her parents for approval.
‘Where was that when we had to use the payphone?’ Eden asked, but Sarah shushed him.
‘There, it’s done,’ she said, closing her phone. ‘We can unroll some sleeping bags and watch some late-night news.’
‘Is that your idea of a good time?’ Eden asked, sighing. ‘I guess it’s better than lying down on my wet and empty lawn. Just don’t forget to do your shot.’
‘My shot?’ Sarah asked, giving him a confused look. ‘Oh, my shot.’