It felt almost spooky, Mary thought to herself. To be standing in this old, weathered house in the middle of the night, the place in total darkness. Wasn't that how all the best horror movies began? But that was he word. Almost. But it didn't make her afraid to be here – at least, not for that reason. She was scared because of something entirely different, and it had nothing to do with the house.
She stood in the hall of the big, two storey building where she had practically grown up. Even though the darkness was seeping into it, she could make out the things that were so familiar to her.
She carefully walked across the hardwood floors into the living room. It had never been redecorated in the entire time she had known Danny. Danny's mom had furnished the place entirely before her son had even been born, and even now, twenty-something years later, it still didn't look like it had aged. An antique wooden cabinet sat at one end of the room, a real antique that been placed there years ago, not like something out of Jakes house that was more likely to have been bought at a store somewhere because it was quaint or something. This was real, and homely, and reminded her of family. It sat out of the way, but it still drew your attention when you walked into the room like a focal point, the surfaces always gleaming, no matter what, and smelling of furniture polish.
An old fireplace that Danny's dad had built from scratch, with a wood-burning fire inside – not that there was ever a fire lit, of course, when Vegas in the summer was like a form of torture and the winters were warmed by radiators hidden around the house. An entertainment centre sat in one corner of the room, the finish almost a replica of the cabinet opposite, but not quite the same if you looked at them both carefully.
A sofa and a matching armchair were in the middle of the room, big and over-stuffed to the eye, despite their age, but once you sat on them, they moulded to every part of your body in such a way that you never wanted to move. Mary had slept on that sofa so many times over the years, sometimes when they were supposed to be watching a movie, and sometimes just because she couldn't help it. It had felt nice, to fall asleep there with Danny lying on the floor next to her because he didn't want her to wake up alone. She also remembered when they were teenagers and had been making out there, Danny lying on top of her, when his father had walked in on them.
She smiled to herself, moving through the house into the dining room with its big mahogany table and the eight matching chairs around it. Mary only ever remembered three people sat around it – herself, Danny and his father, and Danny used to say that he never knew why they didn't just get rid of it, but she knew it would never have felt the same without it.
Everywhere she looked there was a memory; a picture, an event, and it was funny that she had never felt that way about the house she had shared with her father.
A photograph sat on the sideboard that Mary had always thought was the most beautiful thing, and she tentatively picked up sparkling silver frame that surrounded the image of Mrs McCoy. Mary didn't really have many memories of Danny's mother. She had died when they were too young to really understand what was happening, but she had the picture in her head of a woman with honey-blonde hair, bright blue eyes and slim frame. She remembered that she was always smiling, and one time, when Mary had rushed out of her house one morning, Mrs McCoy had sat her on her knee and combed her hair through. She had tied it into pig-tails with some pink ribbon she kept in her sewing box, and whispered that one day she hoped Danny would have a little sister, and that she wanted her to be just like Mary. It wasn't long after then that she had passed away.
Mary turned to go back into the hall. It was obvious that Danny wasn't down here anywhere, not that she was expecting him to be because she had a feeling she knew exactly where he was, and it dawned on her that this was probably the worst time to go sauntering down memory lane.
But she couldn't help it, she knew that a soon as she started up the long staircase up to the second floor. Her hand ran along the smooth varnished banister that she and Danny had both slid down everyday when they were kids, until that one time when Danny fell and broke his arm, and they had never tried it again.
Up she climbed, finally reaching the long hallway she had tiptoed down too many times to count. She passed the room that used to be hers, the one that had originally been the guest room, and she couldn't resist peering inside. It had once been an empty-feeling room, decorated sparsely, tasteful but very plain, and then Mr McCoy had painted it pink when she started staying over all the time. He had even bought pink sheets and covers for the comforter so everything matched and put a sign on the door that said her name. She had been so touched by it that she had cried, and then cooked for them all. It still smelt of her, of her past, her pictures were still pinned to the wall and she guessed her old school books probably still sat in the cupboards.
She remembered back then, back when she lived here, that when things were going bad for her, at school or if her father had been waiting outside of the school claiming he loved her and that he needed to talk to her, she would come home and climb under the covers of the bed. She'd bury herself in the pillow and pull the comforter over her head, and things would get better. What were the odds she wouldn't feel that way now if she did that? Pretty high, she reckoned. And there definitely wouldn't be Danny to come in with a cup of hot cocoa like he did then, no matter what the weather outside, to coax her out of her hiding place with a joke or by tickling her, just making things okay by being there.
She passed the master bedroom, again pushing open the door to peer inside. As always, it was tidy, neat, clean… Danny's father had never been one of those guys who didn't know what a vacuum cleaner was. Mary guessed it was because he'd had to learn pretty quickly how to keep a house as well as knowing how to build one once he and Danny were left alone.
The room looked like it'd had a lick of paint or two in the past few years – still the same colour, but a little brighter than the last time she'd seen it a couple of years back. Still in pride of place, though, was the photograph of Mr and Mrs McCoy on their wedding day, looking happy and in love and full of new beginnings. Mary had always hoped that her and Danny's picture would stand next to that someday.
Yeah, that was what she should be thinking about right now.
She shook her head, chastising herself for the thought even entering her head. But she couldn't stop it. Maybe it was being back in this house after so long, but her past flooded her, and she couldn't turn it off.
Was it bad that she still wanted the same things that she wanted then? That after everything, all the time that had passed and the months of telling herself that it would never happen, that it was useless, that she wasn't still in love with him…she believed that they were supposed to be together?
She looked around the room, at the bed that would probably never be slept in again, at the hard hat sat on the dresser and the shirt thrown across the back of the chair that would never be worn again. Suddenly, it all seemed so final and real, and she had to leave before she started crying again.
She could feel her heart thumping in her chest and her palms sweating as she pulled the bedroom door closed behind her and started down the hall again. This was the part that she hadn't thought through. When she'd heard the news, she'd just known that she had to get back here. On the way, she just needed to be at this house, in this little cocoon of safety that it had always been with him, with Danny. She had known, before Mike mentioned anything, that he'd be here. As many times as she had doubted over the years that she really knew him as well as she thought, this just proved that inside out, backwards and forwards, Danny McCoy was ingrained into her, and she'd known he would want to be somewhere he felt he belonged.
She had briefly thought about his dad's office or his work site, but the office had never felt like Mr McCoy and he'd never seemed entirely comfortable there. She thought about the site because that business was always supposed to be 'McCoy & Son', but then she remembered that they'd just finished a job and the next one wouldn't start until next week. Besides, being there would fill him with guilt, not that he wouldn't feel that way anyway.
So that had left the house. Here she was, walking down the hall with tiny steps, more afraid of this than of anything else in her life. She been anxious on the plane, on the way over here, but she'd never thought about what she'd do once she was actually here. Soon, she would be standing opposite him, and she had absolutely no idea what to do. She'd known that she needed to be here with him, and in a very short space of time, she would be. But then what? Hug him? Tell him everything would be okay? How could she when everything just felt so…wrong?
She stood in front of the solid pine door that was half-open, half-closed, and she took a deep breath. She wanted to help him, so much that it hurt her to think about the pain he was in, but how could she possible make things better? If he didn't answer the door to the guys outside, it was very possible that he didn't want to see anyone at all, and that probably included her. Maybe she should leave, she thought. All she had to do was turn back and walk the other way, let him deal with it in his own way.
Yeah, a voice inside of her said, because letting Danny deal with things his own way always works out so well. Remember what happened when he came back from service?
She put her hand to the door, feeling the grain of the wood on her fingers. She was never going to leave him alone, it wasn't even an option. She was scared, yeah, but when it came to Danny, she'd do anything. Even if she walked in there and he told her to leave, she'd just sit outside his room and wait until he was ready. At least then she'd know that she'd tried, and he'd know that she cared, although he couldn't possibly not know that already.
Her hand moved up to the name plate that was ever-so-slightly askew. When they were about thirteen or so, Danny and Greg had been wrestling in Danny's room, while Mary had just sat watching them, laughing at them being such idiots. She wasn't laughing, though, when they fell into the closed door and knocked it from its hinges. Mr McCoy had ran upstairs, checked they were both okay, and then told them that they both had to pay for a new one and hang it themselves. It had taken the better part of a month for them to save up enough money, and almost as long for them to figure out how to put it up. But they did it, and when they were done, Danny had let Mary use a drill for the first time in her life to put the name sign back up. He hadn't said anything when it wasn't straight, hadn't corrected it, just threw an arm over her shoulders and said that now he'd think of her every time he went in his room. Her fingers ran along the lettering engraved there, the sign matching the one a few doors down on the room that had been hers, and she wondered if he had really meant that.
She straightened herself up, moved her hand to the doorknob and pushed.
His room had always been blue – different shades of it through the years, but always blue. It had been green for maybe a week in his mid-teens when Mary had told him she liked the colour and thought it would look good, but then it had been back to blue.
As the door opened further, more and more memories hit her. The pictures on the walls, the school flags, the football trophies on the sideboard next to a photograph of them at graduation. A typical teenage boys room, some would say, and they'd be pretty much right. Danny had been a teenager when this was his room. The last time he'd stayed in here was the night before he left for the Marines, not long after they'd received their diplomas together, thrown their caps in the air, and celebrated by sharing a kiss under the bleachers for the very last time.
That night before he'd left was something that she'd never forget for as long as she lived, and maybe still be able to picture when she was dead too, depending on your beliefs. Sometimes, when she lay in bed at night, she thought about that night, about how it felt to kiss him, to feel him, to touch him. Sometimes it felt like only yesterday, and sometimes, like tonight, it felt like it had all been some dream that she just couldn't forget.
She remembered that some of the guys from school had organised a going-away party for him – nothing big, just their friends, and when they had gotten home that night he had taken her by the hand and led her up the stairs and into his room. There was nothing assuming about his actions, and the thing she felt most at the time was how perfectly natural it felt, and how she hadn't even thought to question it.
She had been so sure that night that they would always be in one another's life, that they would always be there for each other, no matter what. She was determined to prove that point now more than ever.
It was amazing what memories flooded her senses as she pushed the door open further, like an entire lifetime running through her mind, brought on by just the feel of the wood under her fingertips and the way the moon shone into the room from the window. She felt herself rise onto the balls of her feet, although why she was being so quiet was unclear. The house was empty apart from them, and it wasn't like…
She felt herself stop breathing as she stopped.
Everything stopped.
Oh, God…
Danny.