We Used to Live Here by Marcus Kliewer

Author:Marcus Kliewer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria/Emily Bestler Books
Published: 2024-06-18T00:00:00+00:00

CHARLOTTE’S STUFF (DONATE)

Charlotte? That was Charlie’s legal name, the one still on her birth certificate, but she hadn’t answered to it in decades. Unable to help herself, Eve set the tire chains aside and lifted the box onto the windowsill. She pulled off the lid and rifled through. Inside were a few camera lenses, rolls of film, and an old 35mm Pentax.

Charlie’s camera…

Eve picked it up, turned it over in her hands. She wasn’t exactly shocked to find it stashed away but… up in the attic? And in a donation box at that?

During the early years of their relationship, Charlie was seldom seen without that camera draped around her neck. And Eve still vividly recalled the day when, three years before, Charlie had her own gallery showing. It was a rain-soaked Thursday in downtown Rochester, and they’d rented out a little studio on University Ave. Charlie adorned its walls with mountain vistas, downtown scenes, and live concert snapshots. She’d even put up the blurry portrait of Eve, hiding her face from the camera.

The turnout had been modest, but every single visitor meant the world to Charlie. Eve never forgot how nervous her partner looked as the first people shuffled in. It was a rare, endearing sight—Charlie, usually so self-assured, fumbling her words as she spoke to perusing guests. To Eve, it was just about the cutest thing in the world. And it showed how much Charlie cared about her work.

But Charlie hadn’t taken a photo since her father passed away two years ago. He was the one who’d introduced her to photography in the first place. The one who’d gifted her that 35mm Pentax. A few weeks after his funeral, the camera found its way to a shelf, then to a closet, and now… here. Tucked between a rusty hubcap and a plastic reindeer. No more gallery showings, no more stealthy portraits…

Eve had asked her about it once, but Charlie just shrugged and said: “Don’t have time for it.”

As Eve tucked away the box, she heard the front door swing open and slam shut with a muted thwack. Footfalls crunched on gravel and snow. She leaned forward, trying to get a better view. Down below, Thomas was marching across the yard. Focused. Determined.

He paused at the crooked shed, sneaking a look back at the house as if making sure he was hidden from view. Then, out of nowhere, he exhaled a primal scream, slapping at the side of his head with a flat palm. Violent. Vicious. The type of tantrum that makes people cross the street to avoid you.

A disturbing and surprising thing to behold. Until then, Thomas had seemed to be many things, but violent certainly wasn’t one of them. It only added to Eve’s growing unease.

After excising his demons, Thomas straightened up, collected himself, and fixed his tousled hair. Red-faced, he reached into his coat pocket and cast another furtive glance around. He hunched over and brought both hands to his face. For a second, Eve thought he might be dialing someone on a cell phone.

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