I didn't like how dark the short hallway was, but there was at least enough light to see another potted plant at the end of it, perched on a table right up against a window. It had big, waxy leaves and almost looked fake, but I knew it wasn't. Mom wouldn't bother with fake plants. I also saw Sam's backpack up against the wall. There was a note beneath it. It was an old note, the back-and-forth conversation that had culminated in my little sister seeing Pulp Fiction. That was still kind of funny to think about.

There was just one other door, almost directly across from the one I'd just come through, so I opened it up and flipped on the light. A bathroom. The first thing I noticed was a big tub to the right, it had what, at first glance, looked like a lot of blood splashed onto it. My heart leaped into my throat...but then my eyes fell to a bottle on the floor beside it. I walked forward, knelt and grabbed the bottle.

"Whew," I whispered, letting out a sigh of relief.

Red hair dye.

I set it back down and stood up, looking along the length of the tub. I realized that the hair dye wasn't fresh...it was old, stained in, actually. Then, as I looked down to the other end of the tub, where a simple table was, I saw it.

Another journal entry.

I grabbed it and started reading.

Oct. 22, 1994

"Dealing With Roots"

Lonnie brought her hair dye over today. She said, "I
need to fix these roots. Think you could help?" Dyeing
hair is weirdly intimate. I don't know if I've touched
someone else's scalp before. That's pretty intimate,
right? It felt intimate.

We looked into the mirror together after and I
expected her to say something about how it looked
crappy, or good or whatever. But that's when she said,
"You're so beautiful." And she was looking at me.
Right in that moment, I wanted to say...something. But
I waited, and the moment was gone.

I folded up the note and slipped it into my pocket. I guess she had a point, touching, or even massaging in the case of hair dye, someone's scalp would be pretty intimate. The only other thing in the bathroom that was interesting I found when I opened up the cabinet over the sink. Printed out in block lettering, made with one of those label-makers, and slapped to the inside of the cabinet door, was: LONNIE RULES.

Wow, Sam really liked her.

I left the bathroom.

There was a door directly in front of the short hallway. Well, it was next on the list, I guessed, so I walked up to it, opened it up...and froze.

Mom and dad's room!

Even in my snoopiest of snooping days, I stayed out of my parent's bedroom. I just...did. You don't go in mom and dad's room. It just isn't done. But my curiosity was piqued more than ever because it looked like someone had already been through here. There were two dressers and an armoire, and a lot of the drawers were pulled open in the dresser, one of them actually pulled out all the way. Well...I'd come this far.

No going back now.

I stepped into the room.

I started by searching the nearest dresser, but all I got for my troubles was, (barf!), a condom still in the wrapper. Ew, so gross. Not thinking about it, not thinking about it. I moved on to the armoire, which was actually a TV cabinet. There was a TV, and a bunch of VHS tapes and...oh boy. Hook ups for a missing VCR player. Uh-oh, really, really not good. Sam had apparently stolen from mom and dad...how the heck was I going to explain this?

I checked out mom's dresser, but there was nothing interesting there. Except for a framed drawing Sam had done a really long time ago, like over ten years ago. It was a crude crayon drawing of our first (and only) cat, Mitten. Ha, I remember Sam actually arguing with my parents into not calling her Mittens. She insisted that the cat should be called Mitten. When dad asked why, she'd calmly explained that well, there was only one cat, not two, so it should be Mit-ten, not Mit-tens. Well, who could argue with that? It made perfect sense.

I decided to keep going with this and check out the two doors at the back of the room. The first one, on the right, led to a master bathroom. Holy crow! It was pretty big. But, I guess, being the parents, they got first dibs on the bathroom. And it was even two rooms! The first room had sinks and the next room had a toilet and tub. Well, the only thing in there was a book next to the toilet. The cover had a picture of a middle-aged couple sitting on a bench in a field and read: After the Honeymoon. Rediscovering Your Spouse: Personally, Spiritually, Sexually.

Bleh. I put it back.

It kind of grossed me out, but beneath that, I found myself thinking: Should I be worried? Moms and dads getting divorced was something that all kids feared, especially if you grew up with both of them. Were my parents in trouble? If you'd asked me a year ago, six months ago...hell, if you'd asked me before this night, I'd have said: No way! Of course not! My mom and dad love each other and they will forever!

It sounded so childish, and yet I had believed it.

I still did...to a certain extent. But now I was beginning to wonder. Dad was drinking again, and...he apparently was failing at his job, and had apparently given up on his passion. What if...mom didn't want to put up with that anymore? All the old fights they used to have, I suddenly wondered if maybe mom had just...given up. If the fights had dwindled not out of love, but frustration, and finally apathy?

No...I was being paranoid. I had to be.

I left the bathroom and moved on to the second door, which led to a big, walk-in closet. Just clothes and boxes here...and another board game. Escape From Haunted Mansion. That one had been pretty fun, but it had given me nightmares when I was younger. When I was a lot younger, thank you very much. It'd be ridiculous to get nightmares as an adult from a stupid board game...I put it back quickly, high up on the shelf.

As I stared at the boxes, it suddenly hit me: why did this house still look like my family was moving in? There were boxes everywhere and yet, they had all lived here for over a year. What did that mean? My family wasn't lazy...well, my mom wasn't. She got things done. So why were there still boxes in the corner of my parent's bedroom? Why wasn't it unpacked? My mom would be able to see these every day.

Had she given up on some things?

I liked that thought least of all. The idea of my mom just not caring about something anymore chilled me. I decided to check the bed out. The first thing that grabbed my attention was a book peeking out from beneath it. I pulled it out. Leaves of Grass, by Walt Whitman. And there was a bookmark in it.

I almost put it back without thinking about it, but then I caught some writing on the back of the bookmark. Naturally, I checked it out.

Take your time. I'm glad to have it in good hands. -Rick

Who was Rick? Maybe it was all the bad feelings I'd had just now, but I had a sudden aversion to this Rick. Was it intuition? Paranoia? Total crap? I couldn't tell, but I suddenly wanted to know more about this Rick guy. There had to be something around here...I checked mom's nightstand and opened the drawer.

There was a letter here, written in Carol's handwriting.

I started reading.

Dear Jan,

Oh honey, let me tell you, I understand
how you feel. Bob and I have had our
down periods. It's become a bit of a way of
life, actually...You get used to each other,
you live your own lives in the same house,
the kids grow up, they go away...I'm sorry,
this isn't helping, is it?! Don't worry. Terry
will get over whatever's distracting him, things
will go back to normal, and as for Sam being
distant? That's a teenager for you. Nothing to
worry about.

In the meantime though, this "controlled burn"-
that sounds like quite the adventure! But let's
cut to the chase! This new ranger they sent,
THAT'S what I want to hear about! "Ranger
Rick?" You have got to be kidding me! It's too
perfect. You HAVE to tell me everything...and
send pictures! I want the whole package! Wait, that
sounded wrong!

Keep your chin up until Terry is out of his
slump. And in the meantime, write more letters
to your old friend Carol! She adores them!

-Carol

Now I felt worse than before. The way Carol was reacting, it seemed like maybe my mom had been talking up this guy, this...Rick. Obviously the guy that referral form I'd found had been referring to. Maybe I was being paranoid, probably I was. But...something was wrong here. And obviously mom and dad were having problems. There was no denying it now. Dad must be depressed or in some kind of a slump...I didn't blame him.

I put the letter back and continued my search. I wanted information more than ever now. It was kind of like being in purgatory, not knowing if the situation was good or bad. There were no definitive answers yet. Plus, there was still the biggest mystery of: where the hell was everyone!? I found a postcard on dad's nightstand, the one I sent from London. More great memories, but my year in Europe seemed farther away than ever now.

The only place left in the room to check was the drawer of the nightstand before me. I resisted the urge to cross my fingers or silently (and hypocritically) pray as I pulled it open. Well, there was a bible in there. (Still no use.) And...what was this?

It was a little business card.

KAZ. Unknown Dimension Literature.

Okay, THIS was new. And it sounded like good news, great news actually. Did this have anything to do with dad's sudden renewal in writing? Had he found a new publishing deal for his shelved third book? It could potentially solve a lot of problems if he had.

Well, it was, maybe, the good news I was hoping for.

I put everything back and, gratefully, left my parent's room.