Transfer by Oliver Sean

Author:Oliver, Sean
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-08-02T00:00:00+00:00

32

LAINE DIDN’T CALL Jason that evening. She sat on the end of his bed instead, looked around his room. It still stood as it did when he was living there at home.

Books were shelved in perfect order, descending in size. His desk was always clear; she never understood how he did that. Even throughout high school, he never left anything on his desktop. He didn’t miss any assignments, so he was actually working in there. But everything was immediately put into a drawer or his backpack when done. She’d seen him working on the desk with books and his laptop. But when he wasn’t working at the desk, it was cleared.

He hung his clothes in the closet, too. Maybe Laine had seen a stray sock or sweatpants at some point, but she really didn’t think so. She knew the top drawer of the tall dresser was the closest thing to a catch-all that he kept. His keys, receipts, change, and miscellaneous pocket fare would get tossed in there upon undressing. He didn’t fold his clothes with care, but they were in the drawers. Some were well stuffed, hard to open and close without another hand getting involved. But when you walked into Jason’s room, everything was closed, cleared, clean.

On occasion, Laine would sit in there while he was away at college. She’d initially head in with some mission, something to put away or retrieve, and a calm would come over her. Maybe it was a sense of him, or maybe it was the feeling of order and cleanliness. She’d thought about it, then tossed it all aside and just sat down. One night she brought her book in there and laid on his bed to read instead of the couch. That made her uncomfortable. She felt it was an invasion and never did it again.

But sitting for ten minutes was like a meditation, a gift from Jason.

She’d call him tomorrow for sure. She’d make some time in the morning and would definitely check in.

During the daytime, his black-out shades kept most of the light out, though some crept into the room around the edges of the drapes. The shades lay like a gray shroud on all the neutral colors in the room.

It echoed in there. His walls were bare and the clear surfaces bounced all sound. Nothing was displayed in the room, other than the book spines. There were no pictures in the room and no keepsakes. There was nothing displayed; there were no visible passions. Other than the bookshelf, you could walk into the sterile setting and be convinced it was a department store display. You wouldn’t know Jason liked a band, or a sports team. It was clean, clear. Blank.

But the drawers were full, packed with clothing, maybe dirty and probably wrinkled.

Laine got up. It was time to leave the room.

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