CHAPTER 51
Cameron opened the door to her darkened apartment that evening, greeted by the familiar shadows of the elements of her home—the couch, the television, the coffee table, the bookshelf. The streetlights fought the same contest with her blinds tonight as every night, and had the last word by casting thin, yet persistent rows of light across her living room floor. The clock ticked loudly in the kitchen, and the almost indiscernible green haze of the lighted numbers on her alarm clock drifted out from her bedroom like incense. She had lived there for three years. Never had a roommate, never had a serious boyfriend. Every night after work, she came home to an empty apartment and spent the evening alone. But tonight, she reflected somberly, was the first night she had ever found herself feeling lonely.
She waded through the darkness to get to her bedroom, whereupon she turned the light on and looked around. House's suitcase lay open in the corner by her bathroom door, and the contents spilled over the sides and onto the floor. Her bed was unmade and the striped cotton pants that House sometimes slept in were thrown together with the sheets in a wrinkled heap. She walked through the room and gathered all of his clothes together, except for one t-shirt, and put them in her washing machine. She went into her bathroom to brush her teeth, and her stomach churned at the sight of his toothbrush leaning atilt toward hers in the holder. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, transferred the wet clothes to the dryer, and settled down on her bed to study some of the files she'd brought home from work. When the laundry was dry, she brought it back into her room and sorted it—the button down shirts and the suit he'd bought for the funeral found a place hanging in her closet. The t-shirts, jeans, socks, and boxers were meticulously folded and placed alongside her clothes in a dresser drawer. Everything was put away except for the one shirt she didn't wash, which she put on to wear to bed. It was House's white "Rolling Stones" t-shirt that he wore on the day he appeared unannounced at her door. She tried as hard as she could to imagine that she lay curled up not in his shirt, but in his arms. With modest success, she eventually drifted into a light sleep.
