Settling In

“Did you leave the light on?”

Wendy lifted her head out of the box of dish-ware. “Which light?”

“In the garage,” Leo replied.

“Yeah, I was stacking some of the boxes that don’t need to be unpacked right away. I got a little overwhelmed seeing nothing but cardboard in our living room.”

Leo shrugged. “Moving in is a process.”

Wendy appreciated his level tone even though it wasn’t a full twenty-four hours since he almost had a panic attack when he thought the movers forgot to load his collection of license plates. He almost had all fifty states, he couldn’t start over.

“I know,” Wendy acknowledged, “Right now, I’m trying to find a frying pan to make dinner.”

“How is it that we labeled all the boxes and still can’t find what we need?”

“Because moving is a process and there’s only so much planning you can do beforehand to limit the stress.”

“I’ll go through some of the boxes in the garage,” Leo offered.

Once he exited, Wendy resumed her important task of finding a pan in the box in front of her. She already went through the other four boxes that she placed in the kitchen when they brought everything in from the truck. Five boxes labeled KITCHEN, broken down into categories: Dishes, Pans, and Storage. After looking for an hour, the one thing she needed couldn’t be found. She started with the box with Pans on the side, growing more and more desperate until she finally pulled open the fifth and final box that sat on the counter before her. Underneath all the bubblewrap sat a stack of bowls and the serving plates they only used for holiday dinners.

Wendy realized that after they moved in the furniture, the movers probably brought in a few boxes. Some of which belonged in the kitchen but never found their way there. Wendy thought she packed more than five boxes when she packed up the remnants of their old kitchen.

She did a quick survey of the living room, seeing nothing, she decided to join Leo in the garage.

When she opened the door to the garage, a chill burst through the threshold, causing the hairs on the back of Wendy’s neck to stand up.

Leo heard her come in, but didn’t look in her direction. When Wendy got closer she saw him staring at the column of boxes, his eyes glazed over.

“Find anything?” Wendy asked.

Leo’s head snapped straight up, as if he woke up from a dream. “No, nothing.”

Wendy took her own look at the boxes. Right in front of Leo she saw one with the word Kitchen on it.

“I see one right there.” Wendy pointed it out.

Leo ran his fingers through his dirty blonde hair. “Sorry, Wen, I don’t know how I missed that.”

Wendy placed her hand on his shoulder before leaning her body fully against his. “You’re exhausted. And stressed. We both are.”

Leo offered a little nod in reply before crouching down and pulling out the box they had been looking for. They opened it, frantically, like wild animals pouncing on the prey they tracked all through the forest.

No pans.

“This makes no sense,” Wendy howled, “I know I packed the frying pans. I put the box into the truck myself.”

“Maybe it got left on the truck?”

Wendy shook her head. “No, we both looked in that truck and made sure it was empty. It has to be somewhere here. It has to be.”

Now it was Leo’s turn to provide comfort. He turned his body so he faced Wendy, extending both of his hands onto Wendy’s arms.

He took a deep breath. “It’s okay, Wen, we will find them. For now, maybe we order in. Or, better yet, we could go out. Do a quick survey of the restaurants in town?”

Wendy sighed. “We can order in. I’m too tired to go out.”

Leo smiled. His charming, the-rest-of-the-world-melts-away smile, that somehow made everything better.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Wendy plopped on the couch in the living room, already looking up places to order dinner.

She had pulled up the menu to a promising looking Chinese place a few blocks away when she heard a laugh erupt from the kitchen.

“Wen, how mad would you be if I told you I found the frying pan?” Leo’s voice called out from behind the wall that separated the living room and the kitchen.

Wendy huffed and dragged herself off of the couch. “I would be furious.”

She walked into the kitchen to see Leo holding up the frying pan she almost had a breakdown trying to find.

“Where did you find that?” Wendy asked, her voice harsher than intended.

“It was sitting right here on the stove,” Leo answered, a smile still plastered on his face, “You must have found it earlier and set it aside or something.”

Wendy shook her head. “No, I don’t think so, I pretty much worked in the bedroom and living room until about an hour ago. I hardly went into the kitchen today.”

Leo shrugged. “Well, I definitely didn’t put it there.”

Wendy’s mind began to swirl with all the rational ways that could explain how the pan got to the stove. Wendy knew that she didn’t lay a finger on it after she had packed it away in its box. She quickly crouched down to the five other boxes that lay open where she had gone through them earlier. The boxes she had been so sure held no pans in them. Now, taking another glance, the first box she had opened contained the frying pans and kettles she had been looking for the whole time.

Wendy shook her head again. “Now, this really doesn’t make sense. I swear I didn’t see any pans in there earlier.”

Leo put the pan he held back onto the stove. “It’s like you said before, we are stressed and exhausted.”

As much as Wendy wanted to chalk the whole scenario up to stress, she couldn’t ignore the strange feeling that weighed on her all of the sudden. She didn’t detect it when she first stepped into the house. Or during the whole moving process. But now, like a snake twisting its way up her leg, she couldn’t shake off the eerie sensation.

She pushed down her suspicions for now. The most plausible answer to the whole ordeal was that she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep for almost a week.

“I think we have a sword and the stone situation,” Wendy proclaimed, “The one who finds the frying pan must be the one who uses the frying pan.”

Leo gave a faint laugh. “Fine by me. We both know I make far better burgers than you do anyway.”

Wendy pretends to scoff before flashing a smile.

She watched as Leo got to work on the hamburgers. Studying his movements of the man she had known and loved for years, hoping that by looking at him the sinking feeling in her stomach would lift. That everything would proceed back to normal.

After a week, they were completely moved in. A bottle of champagne waited in the fridge for them to enjoy over dinner once Wendy could announce that the last of the books had been properly placed on the shelves in their study. All of their boxes were officially empty.

Wendy worked outside while she waited for Leo to get back from his trip to the grocery store. He had prepared to make a proper celebratory meal.

While trimming the rose bush that came with their new home, Wendy heard footsteps approaching from the sidewalk. She glanced over her shoulder to see a small woman with intense eyes gliding in hot pink leggings towards Wendy’s porch.

“Hello?” Wendy spoke up next to the porch steps.

“Hello! You must be my new neighbors!” The woman exclaimed in a high pitched voice.

Wendy held out her hand. “I guess, I’m Wendy.”

The woman took Wendy’s hand with a surprising amount of force.

“It’s good to meet you Wendy. I’m Rhonda and I live in that lovely two-story sky blue house across the street with my son and husband Grant”

Wendy nodded along. “It’s good to meet you too.”

“Do you live alone?” Rhonda asked, the jaunty tone masking the judgemental implications if Wendy gave the wrong answer.

“It’s me and my husband, Leo. No kids.”

“No kid, yet, you mean.” Rhonda giggled loud enough to cause the other neighbors to file a noise complaint.

Wendy offered a plain smile in reply.

“I would have brought over brownies or a casserole or something to welcome you to the neighborhood, but I wanted to meet you first. I really try to be considerate and I wanted to know if there were any dietary restrictions first.”

“Oh, um, my husband is allergic to shellfish,” Wendy explained, “So as long as you don’t add shrimp in with the brownies it should be fine.”

Rhonda giggled, somehow louder than before. “Oh, you are funny.”

Wendy shrugged. “I guess.”

“I’m honestly glad to hear it, especially after the last couple that lived here.” She shivered. “I mean, I didn’t think they would ever get this house off the market. You and your husband probably got the best deal around.”

Wendy’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, you have to know already,” Rhonda squealed, “I thought the realtor had to disclose it.”

“He said something about a suicide in the house,” Wendy stated.

Rhonda leaned her body against the porch railing. “Well, the whole story is that Bruce killed his wife out by Highway 14, only they could never prove it. Then two weeks later he came home and sat in the garage with his car running with duct tape all around the seams of the doors.”

Wendy’s eyes went wide. “I definitely didn’t hear all of that.”

“Bruce was a terror,” Rhonda spouted, “Always blasting his music and yelling and speeding on these streets. Like he didn’t even care that most people around here have kids.”

Wendy didn’t know the best response. Her mind still reeling at the thought that such a disturbed man ever lived in the place she now calls home. She should have pressed the realtor more on the death that they disclosed, but if Wendy were perfectly honest with herself she didn’t much care. Plenty of people would kill to buy this house at the price they got it.

“Anyway.” Rhonda let out a deep sigh. “I look forward to seeing you around! If you have any questions like which place has the best coffee or golf course or anything feel free to knock on my door anytime. I’m always there chasing after my little rugrat.”

While Rhonda’s tone remained upbeat, Wendy thought she sensed a hidden desperation in Rhonda’s voice. She probably doesn’t talk to many adults throughout the day and is hoping Wendy will take her up on her offer. Wendy already knows she won’t.

“Thank you so much,” Wendy chimed.

“I’ll let you get back to it,” Rhonda responded without moving a muscle.

Wendy knew that as long as she stayed in her yard Rhonda would keep yapping at her. She decided that the rose bushes looked good enough for now. She would resume her work when there were less interruptions.

“I better get back inside,” Wendy stated, “The boxes don’t unpack themselves.”

“Oh, you aren’t done unpacking yet?”

“Not yet,” Wendy lied.

Without waiting for another reply from Rhonda, Wendy nearly sprinted up the porch stairs and into her front door. She knew that she should be polite, but she also didn’t want to entertain a woman she would never see herself being friends with. She had enough going on. All she wanted to do was get settled in and then maybe she would have the patience to listen to Rhonda drone on about who doesn’t mow their lawn as often as they should or who dares to listen to music past nine o’clock.

Wendy leaned against the inside of the front door, dwelling on the only part of the conversation that mattered: the man who died in this house may have first murdered his wife. A fun fact she wouldn't be sharing with her mother-in-law whenever she decided to grace them with her presence.

The light in the entry way began to flicker. Wendy stared at it for a few moments, expecting it to go away. As she watched it, a sudden chill filled the air. Wendy felt her whole body tense. A faint sound echoed down the hall. She took a timid step forward.

She followed the sound, her feet stepping gingerly through the hall as if it were filled with landmines. Once she got to the kitchen she knew without a doubt that the sound was coming from the garage. It was at that moment she pinpointed what the sound was too: an engine running.

The image of the previous owner flashed into her head. She placed her hand on the doorknob that led into the garage. It was as cold as ice. She whipped her hand back. For a brief moment Wendy allowed herself to believe that Leo arrived home early and happened to park in the garage. Then she remembered that they had designated the garage as storage until they got the house fully organized. Neither of their cars could fit inside.

Wendy retreated back into the kitchen. The sound of the engine still raging in her ears. She backed into the living room. The sound pounding in her head. She raced up the stairs slamming the bedroom door behind her.

Luckily her headphones were on her nightstand, where she left them after she had finished tidying up inside for the day.

Wendy placed the headphones on her ears and played music so loud it gave her a headache. Every few minutes she would take off the headphones, hoping to hear silence in her house. The engine still roared in the garage.

After either thirty minutes or two hours, Leo entered the bedroom with a bewildered expression. Wendy pulled off her headphones.

“I’ve been calling for you,” Leo said, “I got really worried when you didn’t respond. What are you doing up here anyway?”

Wendy sank further into the bed. Relief flowing through her body. The sound was gone.

“Are you okay?” The worry radiated in Leo’s voice.

Wendy managed a nod. “I’m good now.”

The concerned look deepened in Leo’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Wendy stared into his eyes, knowing that she couldn’t tell him everything. Not right now, anyway. The main reason being that now that the noise somehow disappeared she couldn’t be sure if she ever heard it in the first place. Maybe her imagination got the better of her. Maybe she let the neighbor get into her head. Maybe - no definitely- she needed a good night’s sleep.

“Nothing,” she stated, “I had my music too loud, didn’t hear you come in.”

“Okay,” Leo replied, “Are you sure that’s all?”

The way he stared at her made it clear he wouldn’t drop the subject.

“I thought I heard something in the garage earlier,” Wendy admitted, “I got a little worried and came up here to calm down.”

“What, like an animal or something?”

“Maybe. Did you hear anything when you came in?”

Wendy studied Leo’s reaction, determining if maybe he heard the engine too and also didn’t want to tell her about it.

Leo shrugged. “No. Nothing. I can take a look if-”

“No!” Wendy reached out and grabbed his arm before realizing she had grabbed him too hard. “I’m sure it was nothing.”

Leo watched as she removed her hand from him. She could see that her actions didn’t convince him everything was fine, but he also knew Wendy would tell him in her own time.

“Well, I’m starving,” Leo sighed, “And I think it’s your turn to make dinner.”

Wendy forced herself to enter the kitchen long enough to put the frozen pizza in the oven. Her eyes glanced in the direction of the garage door every few seconds.

Wendy and Leo ate their pizza, washed the dishes, and proceeded up the stairs for the night without anything so much as a cricket sounding off in the garage.

While washing her face in the bathroom, Wendy decided that the noise never existed at all. Once again, the stress and the exhaustion got to her. She needed to settle in and get a good night’s sleep.

As she came out of the bathroom, she saw Leo coming up the stairs even though she thought he had already gone to their bed.

“What were you doing?”

Leo gestured vaguely towards the direction he came from. “I forgot to check that the door was locked. Don’t worry, it was.”

They both made their way to the bedroom, pulling back the covers and plopping into bed at the same time. Wendy couldn’t help but smile. She had a place of her own with the man that she loved. This is everything she ever wanted.

Wendy rolled over towards her nightstand to turn off her lamp.

“Oh, did you go into the garage today?” Leo asked as soon as the lamp went out.

Wendy’s stomach twisted. “No, why?”

“The light was left on.”

Wendy shifted in the bed. “In the garage?”

“Yeah when I went to check the front door I noticed the sliver of light coming in from the garage door,” Leo said, “And I could have sworn I turned it off last night.”

The twisting in Wendy’s stomach worsened. All the words she wanted to get out got stuck in her throat.

“I must have forgotten to turn it off,” Leo continued, “Which isn’t like me but I guess it’s all the stress.”

Wendy pulled the comforter closer to her face.

“Yeah,” she croaked, “just the stress.”