The 614 Blues

The red eviction notice left on the door tasted like salt. It was sharp and slightly metallic. Behind me, the morning air was a heavy, suffocating gray that felt damp. There wasn’t much time left to pack until we’d hear the sheriff arriving. I turned away from the threshold with the lingering sting in my throat. The kids moved through the only home they’d ever known, and their footsteps sounded like purple thuds. Upon grabbing the first box, our former apartment looked as though it was being bleached out, replaced by the sapphire blink of the digital clock, the only thing that hadn’t secured in a moving box yet. I stared at the display one last time. It read 6:14am before the prongs were pulled from the wall, creating an eigengrau void that said goodbye. I turned toward the hallway, cord wrapped around my wrist like a braided black vein, and found my husband Amari waiting. He just looked at the empty space where the light used to be and let out a breath that sounded like a brown heavy wind.

The sound of a backpack zipping came through the thin walls, it was like hearing stale nickel. We were becoming a collection of echoes, ghosts waiting to tell us this was no longer our space.

Amari caught my eye from across the stripped bare hallway, his silhouette was a heavy indigo shadow against the peeling wallpaper. He didn’t say a word, but way he tightened the grip on the toolbox silently declared that I wasn’t the only one feeling the weight of this blue. A three-beat vibration against the front door shattered all silence, the noise similar to deep charcoal- thick and unforgiving. Amari opened it, revealing a white wall of snow. I looked back at the triplets; Sam was clutching a box of his gold medals won from track. Nephets’ eyes were paler from fear and Angel had the look of a muted violet bruise.

The Sheriff stood against the honey-oak frame with his sharp, but heavy shoulders. He didn’t look at our boxes; instead, Deputy Green stared at the floor with regret. He put his hand out as if offering to help with our belongings, saying” I’m sorry about the timing”. The words were like a black unhelpful hole. The silver cruiser behind him matched his badge and seemed as though it was rushing us as we looked back at “home” a final time.

We stepped out, and each snow crunch under our feet was a cue that this was really coming to an end.

I focused on the back of Amari’s head since he was always the one that knew best next steps for almost all familial issues; it was an obsidian stone in this looming storm. We finally made it to our burgundy SUV. The metal of the handle felt like frozen mystic sea against my palm. Behind us, Green sat in his cruiser patiently waiting. Inside the vehicle was tight air and trapped winter that hovered around our remaining possessions, which had been packed when the kids were at school. The boys piled into the backseat, their breathing began to sync-making a rhythmic amber sound that transcended any suffocation. Amari put his key in the ignition and now we began this journey of static grey blur. I gripped the timepiece against my chest and appreciated the fact it was still a little warm. As we pulled away, the old, assigned parking spot faded in the rear view along with the notice to vacate the premises paper. Green reluctantly waved bye as he finished paper work in his patrol car.

We headed to a nearby storage facility reserved last night & dropped a good amount of items off in case more sleeping room would be needed. Although not ideal, it felt good to have a unit that belonged to us again. Organizing our things into the 10x14 was harder than expected but we made it work after about an hour. "Eleana! Amari yelled, "You should not be lifting anything with your back issues.My thoughts: I was just trying to help somehow, it's my fault anyway; my words said an apology while trying to hold back tears.

Gathering back into a lighter GMC, the boys asked about going to the library since that was our frequent mom and sons weekend spot anyway, we obliged. No one else was there as of yet since the book palace didn't open for another twenty minutes. We talked about how the lot was never this empty. A senior citizen community was built right next door so there was a walking group circling the snowy pavement. I thought how lucky they were to have a warm home to drop their coats off upon returning. The librarian unlocked the entrance, breaking my daydream. Our favorite table was upstairs, the kids couldn't wait to show their father, as he was always working during Saturday outings. The rule was before sitting, we always wiped down the area with Lysol. I

watched the damp paper towel turn a cloudy, almost perfect greige as it moved across the wood. To me, the smell of Lysol was a sharp and clinical teal, a barrier I could build between my family and a world that felt increasingly dirty and unpredictable. Amari’s "are you serious" look didn't bother me; his skepticism was a steady, warm ochre, but I was glad to still have control over something, even if it wasn't where we were sleeping tonight.

With a clean corner, the kids ventured off to their favorite book areas, leaving the adults to themselves. We were both determined in finding a solution ; it's easier to be daytime homeless but when most businesses are closed is a different story. Amari and I started scouring our MacBook Airs and phones bouncing ideas off of each other for hours. After the trio returned proudly toting their paperbacks ,they went to get us all something from the Mahogany cafe downstairs. I almost caught up with them to help carry, catch up & just be normal for a moment.The coffee house was a swirl of deep roasted umami and toasted cinnamon, a rich, dark brown fragrance that felt like a physical hug.The boys stood in line, their silhouettes illuminated by the golden light from the pastry case. I watched them from the stairs, knowing this would probably be their only moment of familiarity today.

The barista with the pink hair greeted them all by name, spotted me from afar and asked if we were having our usuals. Everyone said yes in unison and laughter. She asked how we were doing , I hopped in "Great!"before something embarrassing escaped from a mouth. Our steaming hot cocoas and lavender teas smelled like regular life. When we returned with the goodies, Amari was smiling. He had reserved us a campsite. They were all excited, pretending this was kind of artic adventure but quickly got lost in sports and comic books. I wasn't too thrilled about having to sleep outside but at least the site had power hookups and we would be protected from whatever lurked under the what appeared as yellow stars. The library had been a safe haven for us even in this era of uncertainty but it was now 9pm and it was time to get going. When turning out of the parking lot, a radio announcer came on & warned that all roads leading to the campsite city had been snowed in, driving was not permitted , closed to anyone that approached .I was devastated. Amari had the idea to just sleep in front of the old apartment complex. Pulling in felt so welcoming. We parked, got settled, but I noticed the window had been left opened. Amari couldn't believe my illegal suggestion but looked at the boys and we all very quietly crawled through one by one. I promised only one night while making coat pallets on the beige carpet.