Chapter 24 - Chloe Asked to See the House
Chloe was seventeen when she asked:
“Is the house still there?”
“Yes.”
“Who lives there?”
“A family I don’t know.”
“The basement?”
“Renovated.”
“The floor?”
“Changed.”
“The caskets?”
“Evidence was retained until appeals ended. Then handled under court procedures. They are gone.”
She nodded.
“Can we drive past?”
I hesitated.
Then:
“If your therapist agrees.”
She did.
We drove by on a Sunday afternoon.
The Winnetka house looked ordinary.
Children’s bicycles by garage.
A golden retriever behind fence.
No lilies.
No candles.
No white casket.
Chloe stared.
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“It looks smaller.”
Trauma enlarges architecture.
“I remember stairs being huge.”
“You were six.”
She smiled.
Then:
“I don’t want to stop.”
“Okay.”
We kept driving.
That was more powerful than going inside.
May you like
She did not need reclaim every room.
Some places can become other people’s lives.
