Unit #1846321

I think it was the last letter that frightened Mom the most. We’d been getting them all month, but this one came in a bright orange envelope. An unspoken final warning to its recipient. Mom’s eyes bulged out of her head while she read, screaming at nobody in particular,

“They can’t do that!”

Space Range Storage facility was closing down, and if our unit wasn’t cleaned out by the 19th. The company had the authority to auction off all the contents inside, online. Mom, distraught, had yelled so loud that Dottie, who had been cleaning herself, knocked pictures off the side table in an attempt to scramble away from the noise, yowling in protest at the interruption of her bath. I picked up the pictures in silence; Mom and I at graduation, Mom and Aunt Cece on her wedding day, and Dottie as a kitten. I paused at a photo I didn’t recognize, A young Mom and Aunt Cece. Mom was wincing at the camera with her hands atop her sister's head, while Aunt Cece was on all fours, not looking at the camera, licking the back of her hand like a cat.

Mom was already on the phone arguing with some poor front desk person at Space Range Storage. While putting the photos up, I caught her eye. Mom's lip quivered like a child in trouble as she eyed the picture of her and Aunt Cece and shuddered. Honestly, she looked like she was going to puke.

Maybe she’s upset she’ll lose more photos like this.

I pause to consider the thought and decide to take pity on my poor, high-strung mother.

I guess it's up to me to save all of our crap.

I’ll empty the unit after work. The Space Range Storage parking lot was empty except for my car and the faint smell of oil and urine. The kitschy building was adorned with an old-timey astronaut pointing at a giant grinning moon, milky with age and glowing like a beacon in the waning afternoon light.

The poor front desk person ended up being a very weathered middle-aged man whose name tag read “Gerry.” Yes, the only knight left fit to defend his fallen castle was bored and half-asleep Gerry. I clear my throat to get his attention,

“I’m here to clean out the Moore unit.” I click around on my phone for the notes app, “..uhh number 1846321.”

Barely glancing at me, Gerry hums out an “Mhm.” Lazily shuffling the mouse around on the dusty monitor. Briefly looking at me, he mentions,

“This account has been open since 1989.”

Yeah, that makes sense. Mom moved here on a whim after college with Aunt Cece. She wanted the exact kind of small-town experience that could only be found in a place that had a space-themed storage unit. Aunt Cece moved back to their hometown after some time, I think.

“Oh, nice,” was all I managed before Gerry handed me the key to getting into the unit, my own personal sword.

The further I walked through the building, the more I understood why Space Range was closing. Yellowing lights cracked lumenon floors and narrow hallways that were painted a deep purple, which made for an extra claustrophobic feeling. On the second floor of my journey, I found the unit, a Lime green garage door, that had a cartoonish gold star beaming back at me. I unlock the door and roll it up. The sight of Mom's stuff stacked to the ceiling was visually dizzying. Then came the smell, a nauseating mixture of dust, ammonia, and...Mom's old perfume, ‘White Diamonds’ Eau De Toilette.

What the hell?

Sighing, I put on the gloves bought just for this occasion to begin sorting through the mess. The task is mind-numbing. Slowly scooch off a box from the top, set it down in the hallway, work my way to the bottom, and bring my pile to the car, all while ignoring the constant buzz in my pocket. It was probably Mom, she was always a worrier, a control freak really. I chalk it up to being the firstborn to “yes” parents. She always kept a watchful eye and a firm grasp on any situation and was very protective of Aunt Cece, before she moved away, but Mom probably oversaw that too.

Well, she would just have to wait for this one out. If she wanted to micromanage the cleaning, then she should've come herself. I’m inspecting the small dent I made in moving the boxes, trying to think over how long this would take, when I hear boxes shifting and the familiar thunk of what sounds like Dottie’s canned food hitting the floor.

Rats? What exactly does Mom have in here?

I’m tempted to call and lecture her about the state she left this unit in, but instead, I persevere deeper into the unit; this can’t take that much longer. Halfway to the back of the unit, I notice the boxes seem to form two little rooms in either corner of the unit, with a path leading down the middle of them. My phone buzzes for what feels like the millionth time. Now this behavior was a little much, even for Mom. My heartbeat quickens at the number of notifications, 17 missed calls, and 35 unread messages.

What is her issue? Seriously?

The glow of the phone illuminates the right side of the unit, and I step into the first makeshift room. The urine smell is strong now. I stop short at what seems to be an open hole in the floor, the foul smell beginning to emit in waves. The hole is surrounded by a grainy substance, lifting my feet to crunch around on it, I think it's sand, maybe… litter?

I confirm my earlier suspicions as I step further into the makeshift bathroom. Multiple empty cans of ‘The Cat's Pajamas’ cat food were scattered haphazardly atop papers, old toys, and pictures. Upon closer scrutiny, I notice a few photos are of Mom and Aunt Cece. A couple of them feature an older Aunt Cece, one of them outside of Space Range Storage. I reach down to grab the photo. Mom is giving a hard look to the camera, and Aunt Cece is on all fours, smiling up at the big astronaut.

My breath catches as a cold realization runs down my back.

No, no, I must be losing it. I haven't eaten, maybe it's heat exhaustion or something. Mom is blowing up my phone. It reeks in here. I’m tired, and I can’t think straight. That's it.

There's a rustling again; something is scurrying. Nails click on the floor across from me, and goosebumps race up my skin. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to settle myself.

Breathe!

My brain warns me, firing off signals to the rest of my body, making my fingers tingle and my calves tight with anticipation. Turning fully towards the middle pathway, I find the courage to open my eyes and am glued in place by who…what is staring back at me. My phone vibrates again, and by whatever strength or stupidity, I pull it out of my back pocket, tearing my eyes away from the ones trained on me. I read the preview of my mom's 49th message,

“I’M ON MY WAY, DO NOT LET HER SEE YOU! CE-.”

A low growl sounds off from the left corner of the unit. The sound cuts through the silence and fills the space. I turn my head toward the front of the unit, yearning to be bathed in the awful yellow light again, to be out of here.

Sweat beads uncomfortably around my face and drips down my chest. I look down at the floor, careful not to make eye contact again.

I inhale, choking on the stench, and run.