Hothouse

It was a nice day. It always was, at the blue house. Which people said was odd. Off-putting, even. But there it was. The sun was shining down on the tall grass, which was waving in a polite breeze, sending an earthy, pollen smell up to the porch and across the road to the tree line. It was almost spring, they said. It would be soon now. It was a nice day.

“Do you know what’s past the forest?” 

Elliott had been sitting on the porch, book in his lap, for hours. He hadn’t read a single word. Instead, he simply sat and stared past the porch banister, across the fields and into the trees that stood on the edge of the property. His chair rocked gently beneath him. 

“Sorry?”

“The forest. Right out there,” Elliott said again. “What’s past it?”

“Roads, I imagine. Highways.”

“Not people?” 

“Well…” Jo chewed on her thumb absently as she thought, a nervous habit. She didn’t usually speak much. “Sure, people too. There’s people everywhere.”

“Oh.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I hear them sometimes.”

“What?” She stared at him from across the porch. 

“The people. You can’t hear it?” He turned to her, the ghost of a smirk on his face. She shook her head.

“No, Elliott. I don’t hear anything.”

“Hm.” He rocked thoughtfully. “I think it’s because you’re not listening.”

She paused for a moment, then followed his gaze. The trees were still swaying, newly grown leaves emerald in the sun. It was quiet. 

“I don’t hear anything,” she said softly again, more to herself this time. 

“That’s alright.” Elliott shrugged, still smiling. “You will. I’m sure of it.”

Across the road, the trees went still. Jo didn’t speak again.

Night had crept across the horizon when the two of them went back in the house, Elliott sitting on the counter and watching as Jo methodically closed the curtains. The wind was starting to howl outside, and the chill was creeping through the spaces around the window frames. Nobody could remember when it had been built, but everyone knew the blue house was old. 

Elliott hummed softly to himself as he rinsed dishes, seemingly lost in his own world. He hadn’t bothered to turn any of the lights on yet, and the kitchen sunk into shadows around the two of them as they worked. Jo sighed as she closed the last of the curtains, pulling her sweater tighter around herself. She missed the sun already, and it had barely gone down. 

“It was a nice day,” she said absentmindedly, moving to sit down at the table. 

“Yeah.” Elliott nodded, turning around and leaning against the sink. “You always say that.”

“Do I?”

“Every day.” He drummed his fingers against the countertop. “We come inside, and you close the windows, and you tell me what a nice day it was. Why?”

“I suppose because… because that’s what people say.” 

Elliott stared at her a moment longer, and she fought the urge to lean back in her chair. It felt like he was trying to read her mind.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” 

“What?”

“That you can’t remember,” he said plainly.

“Remember what?” Her hands had curled around the edge of the table. 

“Anything.”

“That’s…” She laughed suddenly. There was no humor in it. “That’s silly.”

“Tell me what we did yesterday.” He had stood up to full height now, eyes bright and feet planted as he looked at her. Somewhere, way off, getting closer, there was thunder. She felt, quite suddenly, that perhaps she didn’t recognize him at all. 

“I… I don’t know.” she breathed. And it was true. She didn’t. Perhaps she had, sometime ago, but now it was gone.

“And what about before that? Before the house?”

“I don’t… I don’t think there was anything before the house.”

“That’s what I thought.” He looked almost sad. “You don’t remember anything.”

She didn’t.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’ll be spring soon.”

“What?”

“Isn’t that what everyone says?” He crossed to the table and sat slowly down in a chair opposite her. A fork of lightning flashed behind one of the curtains. 

“I… yes.”

“How long have you been waiting for soon, Jo?”

The silence was long and heavy between them. The wind had started howling more intently, rattling the shutters. She could feel her breath rattling in her lungs. 

“They’re still out there, you know.” His eyes darted to the door, then back. “You could talk to them.”

“Who, Elliott?”

“Them.” He drummed his fingers where he had rested them on the table. It was getting louder outside. “They’re talking again.”

She shook her head.

“You have to hear them.” 

“I don’t.” Her chest hurt. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled.

“Why are you so scared?” he asked, gently. 

“Because I don’t know what’s happening.” She let out a small, shallow breath.

“Then listen.” His voice was soft. “Just listen.”

She nodded. Her hands were shaking. His eyes didn’t leave hers. The storm was picking up outside, rain lashing against the window. She tried to breathe.

“All you have to do is ask them.” Elliott said. He reached across the table to hold one of her hands in his. 

“Ask them what?”

“Anything you want.”

“I… I have to know.” She faltered slightly, and he gave her hand a squeeze. “I have to know why I can’t remember any of it.”

“You’ll be fine, Jo. They want to help you.” he promised. Thunder crashed again, and he released her. “But you have to go now.”

“Why?”

“Because you can’t stay at the blue house forever.”

She cast a glance behind her, at the light flashing behind the curtains. She thought of the road, the woods. It wasn’t far. She could make it. When she looked back, Elliott was smiling. 

“Go.” he said again. “You’ll know what to do.”

She stood slowly, eyes locked on the door. It was being buffeted back and forth by rain, railing against its hinges. She didn’t remember crossing the kitchen. Only that her hand was suddenly on the latch. She sucked in a shaky breath.

“Jo?” Elliott asked, making her hesitate. She turned back.

“I know.” She nodded once, hoping she looked braver than she felt. “Just listen.” 

He nodded back, and she braced herself. Then she threw the door open. 

The wind and the rain lashed against her face as she stumbled down the front steps and off of the porch, the ground soaking through her socks. She thought of her bed. Her rain boots. Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating the road and the tree line. She took off towards the asphalt, trying to stay on her feet. It was darker than she ever remembered it being. 

The road seemed far. Farther than she remembered. But she ran, harder and faster, and suddenly the grass under her feet gave way to cement, and she fell to her knees. There were no cars. No people. Only the darkness and the rain. She couldn’t remember if she’d ever seen anyone on the road, driving past the blue house. She couldn’t remember why she’d come here in the first place. She took a deep breath, threw her head back, and tried to be heard over the howl of the wind. 

“I’m listening!” she called. The water had soaked through her sweater. Was running in rivulets down her face, pooling around her knees. In the jagged light of the sky, it looked almost black.

“I’m listening.” she said again, soft enough that she couldn’t hear it. 

Her hands were freezing, shaking as she wrapped them around herself. Her eyes were closed. She focused every fiber of her being on trying to hear. The rain beat down on the road, reaching a crescendo as the storm picked up. It was too loud to think, to see. There was only the ground and the sky, and was trapped between them. She didn’t know if she’d be able to find home again. The blue house was gone.

The sky was split open by a bolt of lightning. It was so bright that for a moment the entire world seemed to go purple, electric and sharp. Then, she gasped. Elliott hadn’t lied. There was a voice. A million voices. Ancient and deafening. They spoke as if the air itself had been given breath and words, surrounding her. 

“Go.”

The trees loomed ahead as she got back to her feet, tearing towards the woods. They looked different in the dark. Tall and towering and old. She stopped just short of where they began, hesitating. Thunder cracked behind her. 

“Go.”

It was even darker under the cover of the canopy, the leaves and branches gnarled together and blocking out even the light of the storm. Branches whipped past her arms and cut into her shoulders as she shoved past them, pain sharp and heavy in her side. Her feet sent water flying through the air as they slammed into the ground, over and over. She couldn’t hear anything over the sounds of the rain slicing through the leaves all around her, but she felt her heart hammering in her chest. 

The ground got rockier, and the trees got thicker, until she couldn’t move forward anymore. She finally stumbled to a stop and heaved in a breath, leaning against one of the giant trunks. She thought of what Elliott had said to her. Anything you want to know. Then, steeling herself, she spoke. And the woods spoke back. 

“Why can’t I remember?” she asked, clutching to the weathered bark as if it was the only thing tethering her to the earth. 

“It is not the way.” The voice seemed to move past her, shaking the leaves.

“I don’t know how I got here.” She was crying. She felt it, distantly.

“We know.”

“Then tell me!” Her voice was raw. The storm raged on.

“And why must you know?”

“Because I…” She thought for a moment. “This can’t be it. I can’t be here forever. Someone will miss me.”

“They already do.”

“What?”

“You do not remember…” The voice paused. Thunder cracked. “Because you would want to go back. And you cannot.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We know.” The very forest seemed to sigh, bending and creaking under the weight of the thunderous wind. She gritted her teeth and held on tighter.

“And you know who I am?”

“We know who you were,” they said. “Who you are will always change. It must.”

“So I was someone else before?” She dug her fingers into the tree, trembling.

“You were.”

“And what about Elliott? Who was he?”

“He, too, was someone else.”

“We deserve to know.” Her voice wavered slightly, and she fought it against as she stood up straighter. “He and I, we can’t just forget. We must have had… people. People who loved us.”

“You did.” Something within the voice had shifted, ever so slightly. It almost sounded like regret.

“Then why won’t you tell us about them?” she pressed. 

“It does not matter who you were. It only matters who you are, now. It is easier to forget.”

“I don’t believe that.” She glared out into the darkness. “I won’t.”

“Then you invite whatever pain the knowledge brings you.”

“I know.” She took a deep breath. “It’s okay.”

The trees bent in the wind once more, creaking and groaning with the effort of staying upright. It was pitch black. And suddenly, she knew. Who she had been. Who she had loved. Those that missed her, calling out. She couldn’t call back. Her skull thrummed with the energy of so many memories, pushing and pulling until she screamed, plummeting to her knees on the sharp ground below. There was no answer. 

There were people. So many people. Reaching, talking, shouting, laughing. She was young and she was old and she had just been born and she had seen the end of time itself, crumpling before her like a piece of paper. She was a hundred people and a hundred lives, tearing and fighting to stay as they were. She was a hundred deaths, slow and fast and sharp and never anything like what she expected. She was words and she was light and she was music and she was noise and she was alive. And it was perfect. And whoever the voices were had been right. She did want to go back. More than anything. 

“Did I not tell you…” the wind whispered, “that it is easier to forget?” 

“You did.” Her eyes were glassy as she tipped her head back to look at the sky. The storm had quieted. Stars were appearing. “But you were wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“I don’t want to go back.” She let out a small laugh. “I want to go forward. Somewhere new.”

The voice was silent for a moment, as if it was thinking. There was no more thunder.

“You truly wish to do all of this again?”

“More than anything.” She was smiling, even if she couldn’t figure out what was so funny.

“There will be pain.”

“I know.” She nodded, breathing out a sigh. “But that’s how I’ll know.”

“Know what?”

“That I’m real.” She laughed again, tilting her head back as far as she could. “That I’m there.”

“Through the pain?”

“Through the pain. And the joy. And everything else.”

“You’ve been here before, you know.”

“I know.”

“And each time, you choose to leave. To start over. Why?”

“Because I know that it’s worth it. Every time.”

Somewhere, in the distance, there were crickets. The storm had taken the chill from the air, leaving only the fog of the night in its place. By only the light of the moon, the forest was strange and beautiful. The leaves overhead were thick and green. Maybe spring had come. Maybe she could finally stop waiting for soon. This time when the voice spoke, it was gentle, carrying through the mist. 

“You really wish to go forward?”

“I do.” She touched her fingertips to the tree, and took a deep breath. “I’m ready. I want to go home.”

Elliott was alone when dawn broke at the blue house, rays creeping across the floor of his bedroom. The kitchen was empty when he made his way downstairs, and the door was ajar, letting in the smell of the earth after a storm. He smiled to himself as he made a cup of coffee, bringing it to the porch and sinking into his rocking chair. It creaked as he swayed back and forth. 

“Well…” he breathed a happy sigh. “She did it again.”

“She did.” the wind replied, in a voice that was many and a voice that was one. 

“I knew she would figure it out.” He took a small sip from the chipped mug in his hands. “She always does.”

“She always chooses to remember.” 

“I know.” 

For a moment, there was silence. The grass rustled against the porch. Then, the voices spoke again.

“Why do you stay?”

“Here?” he laughed. “Easy. Someone has to remind her.”

“Remind her of what?”

“To move forward. To do it all over again.”

“She always leaves you here.”

“I know.” He nodded slightly. “I don’t mind.”

“When will you leave, Elliott?” the voice asked, softer.

“Me? I’m not sure. I’ll probably stick around for a while longer yet.” He sighed, settling back into his chair. The wind moved through the trees across the road. The sky was blue and cloudless. He felt the most alive he had in a long time. “They say it’ll be spring soon.”

There was no longer a chill in the air as the sun continued to rise, painting the fields amber and orange. The rain had left everything glittering and new, even the paint of the blue house. The trees swayed against each other still, but this time, they were quiet. The smell of pollen and grass was thick in the air, and Elliott smiled as he took a deep breath in, looking out over the sky and the road and the endless fields. It was a nice day. It always was.