Screen Door

After fifteen years it was still broken. A hole right underneath the latch that opened the door. Not very safe, I know, but it was only the screen door after all. No one cared much about it and we had other things to fix. The refrigerator, the air conditioning, the roof after the hail storm; the screen door was just at the bottom of the list of things to do.

I was partly glad it wasn’t fixed. For me, it served as a reminder of my childhood.

When I was 10, we played a prank on my older sister, David and I. David figured he could attach a string just right so that when Gwen pulled the latch to open the door, a bucket would pour water all over her. It worked. In fact, in addition to the water coming down on Gwen’s head, so did the bucket and everything else that David and I used to create the contraption. Gwen slipped and pulled the string down with her, ripping the screen door in the process. My mom scolded us both and claimed she was going to tell David’s mom that we should both be grounded, but she started laughing before she could complete her threat.

I began to use the hole in the screen door as a passage for notes and letters. I would puncture a piece of paper onto the sharp edges of the broken screen and wait. Depending on whose name was on the front, either David, my brothers, or sometimes even Gwen, would take the note and write a reply. It was our sacred letter system.

David made use of the hole in other ways. If he wanted me to come outside, he would whisper my name through the hole. Except, if I wasn’t in close proximity, the whisper would become louder and louder and eventually turn into a shout that wouldn’t cease until I appeared. Momma could never get David to knock after the screen broke.

That was before Gwen got married, before my brothers had their own homes, before Mom and Dad needed help with the property, and before David left town.

Before I was left alone.

Now, I fiddled with the screen door.

“Did you ever think of replacing this door, Dad?” I asked,

“Sure, but you kids used to have so much fun with it we decided to leave it alone.“ He was sitting in the front room. “Besides,” He chuckled, “the car needed a new battery.”

“Hmm.” I sighed and looked out into the huge front yard. The ash tree in the yard was limp and naked, but the grass was trimmed and the weeds were kept at bay, something my mom always insisted on doing.

“Gwen called today.” Dad said, “She asked about you.”

“Did you tell her I was doing fine.”

“Yup, but I’m starting to wonder if it’s the truth.”

“You know it is.”

“Ava,—”

I walked out and slammed the screen door before he was able to finish his sentence.

Out on the front porch, the cold air bit at my bare arms. I walked over to the porch swing, which sat on the far right side of the front porch, and sat down. It creaked and groaned under my weight on account that it had not been used in quite some time. Momma considered it a safety hazard, but it was another thing that was too far down the list of ‘to-dos’ to ever be taken care of.

I had made my choice to stay, no one made it for me. I knew I would never leave my home. It was where I grew up, did school, survived college, and made friends. Only, after college everyone else decided they would have a better future somewhere else. Anywhere other than this little town.

David tried to convince me to leave. He wanted to travel the world, he suggested I do the same. His father had always  expected him to be the best in everything, or else. David had taken all the pressure he could handle from his family and decided it was time to leave.

I struggled to make him understand that I was content to stay here. He couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t try to create a different future for myself if I had the chance too. In frustration, he pounded his fist into the porch banister and left. That was five years ago.

I tried to contact David two years ago, but I had lost him to the big wide world. In no way did I regret my decision to stay. I was not restless or unhappy here; only dreadfully alone.

The next morning, the landline rang as I was flipping pancakes on the griddle.

“Momma, the phone is ringing.” I yelled. No answer. They were probably in the garden out back. I sighed and picked up the phone. “Ridley residence.” I spoke into the phone.

“Ava, it’s been such a long time!” Gwen’s familiar lilting voice sang.

I almost dropped the spatula. “I guess it has.” I laughed nervously.

“How are you? I talked to Momma and Daddy yesterday but they never tell me much about you.”

“I’m fine.” I said shortly.

“That’s like saying you’re just surviving,” Laughter blasted over the phone, “do you get out much?”

“Like I said, I’m perfectly fine.” I said through gritted teeth.

“Well, if you ever need a break from that huge empty house, feel free to come by whenever! I know it can get boring in our hometown, and—”

I clapped the phone back on the wall and realized I had burnt the pancakes. I threw the black ones away and put fresh batter on the griddle.

My knuckles turned white from gripping the edge of the counter and I realized I was breathing hard. I bit my lip and tried to focus on the pancakes sizzling on the pan. They became brown and then blurry. Only when I blinked back my tears did I notice they had turned black once more.

“Dang it!’ I shouted and threw them away.

Why couldn’t anyone understand that I didn’t want to leave? What was so terrible about loving my home? I only missed the people.

The way Gwen would tiptoe up the front steps. The way David would take the stairs two at a time. The way my brothers would stomp and pound and run through the house. They promised they would visit, but everyone who said that was a liar. No one ever came back.

Heavy steps sounded on the front porch.

“Pancakes are almost ready.” I sniffed and poured another batch onto the stove.

“Ava” someone whispered.

I stopped.

“Ava”

The whisper sounded again and my hands became cold.

“Ava”

The whisper grew louder.

“Ava”

A voice was calling me.

I walked carefully to the front door and opened it.

In between me and the broken screen door crouched a man. A tall man who looked silly on his knees whispering through the hole in the screen door. A man who was dressed in military uniform and had crutches laying by his side.

“David?” My voice came out as barely a whisper.

“I was afraid you were going to make me start shouting.” He smiled and stood up, favoring his left leg with his crutches.

“What are you doing here?”

“I tried traveling the world, but I didn’t find what I was looking for.”

“What were you looking for?”

“Something fulfilling and exciting, I guess.” He laughed ruefully, “Something I suppose I always had, but didn’t realize I had it.”

“After five years of no communication, you’re here standing on my front porch.” I was still gripping the doorknob for fear I would lose my balance without its support.

His countenance turned down-cast, “I’m sorry, Ava. I tried so hard to leave my past behind. I didn’t stop to think there might be some good things I was also abandoning.”

“What made you think I would still be here?”

“I was just hoping, I suppose.”

“I don’t understand.” I felt a tear slide down my cheek and tasted salt as it made its way to my lips.

“After I left town, I decided to see the world with the army. I was stationed in Alaska for a while, but I’ve spent the last three years overseas.” He sighed, “I saw the world alright and I saw it all by myself.

“Thousands of people surrounded me every day but almost none of them knew my name or where I was from, or what my favorite food was, or what I liked to do. I burned all my bridges when I left this town and that’s my greatest regret.

“Last month I found out that, because of an accident, I’m permanently handicapped in my right leg.” He touched his leg listlessly as he continued, “I realized then that I had nothing. No friends, no family, no home. I had disconnected with everyone I had ever known and isolated myself like an idiot.

“In that moment I remembered what it was like to sit here in the sunshine with you and your family. I remembered what it was like to sit in the huge dining room and eat together. I remembered what you told me before I left you all those years ago.” David‘s eyes were red, “After I tried convincing you to leave, you squeezed my hand and said, ‘If you never find what you’re looking for, you can always come back. I’ll be here.’” He choked, “And here you are. You kept your promise even though I broke all of mine.”

I made a noise that sounded like a sob, a choke, and a laugh altogether and threw open the door. I rushed into his arms with tears streaming down my face.

“I’ve missed you so much.” I burst out, sobbing.

“I’ve missed you too.” David croaked. Then he laughed huskily, “but I’m going to lose my balance soon.”

I jumped back, “Oh, I’m sorry!”

“Ava! It’s smoking in here!” My mom appeared at the front door, “Why on earth did you….” She faltered.

“Nice to see you again, Ms. Ridley.” David smiled sheepishly.

Momma gave a whoop and rushed outside almost toppling David over.

“Charlie never mind about the pancakes, our boy David is home!” She shouted.

“What?” Dad almost ran through the screen door, “You’ll have to forgive us, son, all we have is burnt pancakes.”

I had tear stains on my cheeks, but I laughed and smiled because I was home.