It started with little things.
I didn’t remember putting my keys on the hook, even though that was where they were meant to go. But I’d been dead tired when I got home the night before, so I barely remembered anything anyway.
The coffee wasn’t where I thought I’d left it. After 15 minutes of searching, I found it on top of the fridge. Odd.
I’d searched everywhere for the pretzels for the kids’ school snack only for them to be right where I’d thought they should have been when I opened the pantry the next day.
Honestly, all of those things could be attributed to stress or the insomnia or my general forgetfulness.
It was walking into my bedroom after dropping the kids off at school to find all of the laundry folded that really made me think. I had a mountain of laundry sitting on my bed when I had left, dumped there in an effort to find shorts my youngest was willing to wear and in hopes of finding two matching socks for my oldest. The pile of laundry was gone and in its place were neat little piles of shirts and pants. Socks were folded together with their mates.
My chest felt tight as I surveyed the scene. My legs shaking as my mind went back and forth. Was it better to shut myself in the bedroom or to run down the hallway, down the stairs to the first floor, and out the door to call the police.
Would the police think I was crazy?
‘Officer, someone broke in to fold my laundry.’
I heard the squeak the top step made whenever pressure was placed on it.
I had my bedroom door shut, locked, and barricaded before I realized I had left my phone sitting on the kitchen counter.
I couldn’t call for help.
“Sandy! There you are, I was wondering when you would be home!” called a voice through the door.
A voice I knew well.
My mother.
My overbearing mother. Who I hadn’t seen in years. Because we didn’t talk after the woman told me I should leave the kids with their grandma right after my husband passed away.
“I hope you don’t mind I let myself in while you were out. You still keep the spare key in the same place we kept ours when you were a kid!”
The planter my brother had made in high school. Painted bright and cheerful blues and purples. Gifted to me on my 10th birthday.
Betrayed by my childhood sentimentality.
On the bright side, my mother had folded the laundry so there was that little peace offering.
“I wish you would have waited. Or called before coming over. It’s been a while.”
I tried to move the dresser I had pulled in front of the door in my panic back out of the way as quietly as possible. No reason to let my mother know how frightened I had been.
My legs continued to shake. Either an after shock of my body’s adrenaline or a brand new rush from my mother’s presence.
“You’re right, I should have called. I didn’t think you would answer and I wanted to see you. And the kids. They must be so big now.”
I felt nauseous at my mother’s mention of the kids. My kids. The kids my mother had suggested live at grandma’s permanently.
“The kids are fine.”
“I never said they weren’t dear. Are you ok in there? Will you come out?”
I wiped some sweat from her forehead. I must look a wreck. But there wasn’t a mirror in my bedroom so I’d just have to live with it.
I unlocked and opened the door.
My mother looked older. Noticeably so. Her hair had been a rich brown before and now was fully gray. I wondered if the woman been dying it before we stopped talking. The lines on her face had developed into full wrinkles.
But still, the woman looked strong. Healthy. An anxiety that I hadn’t known I carried was released.
“You look good mom.”
“I wish I could say the same dear but you look tired! Let me make you some tea.”
“That would be great actually.”
When I was younger, my mom had always made me tea when I was anxious. Or when I was running myself too hard with sports and after school clubs in high school. The tea and the conversation had always relaxed me.
We made our way back down the stairs and I picked up my phone as my mom started the tea. 20% battery.
“I’ll be right back mom, I need to grab my phone charger out of the car.”
“Ok sweetie! I’ll have your tea ready by the time you’re back.”
It only took a few minutes but, sure enough, by the time I was back and seated at the kitchen table my mom had a steaming cup of tea in front of me.
“Now let it sit for a minute before you take a sip. You know it needs to steep.”
I nodded idly, setting the cup back down.
“Thank you for folding my laundry too mom, but you didn’t have to do that.”
My mom’s eyebrows bunched together in confusion.
“I didn’t fold any laundry, sweetie. I came in, went to the bathroom, and then you were back.”
The ice returned to my veins.
My phone dinged and I glanced down.
A number I didn’t recognize.
‘Don’t drink the tea. She drugged it. She put tarp and rope in the bathroom.’
I couldn’t breathe.
“Are you ok love?”
“Fine.”
It came out a bit too loudly.
Ding!
‘Tell her you need to go pick up the kids. Say someone’s sick.’
My mother stood and took a step towards me.
I looked up and met eyes and the gentle glow of a phone in the vent at the top of the wall.
I looked down at the tea I had already started to drink.
I couldn’t breathe.
My vision was blurry.
“Help,” I croaked out.
The phone clattered to the floor.
I should have remembered to let the tea steep.
When I woke up it was with a pounding headache and a voice I struggled to understand. Someone asked what had happened. They explained that I was at the hospital. After I explained what I knew, they let me know that someone had called the police anonymously. When they arrived, I was alone in the house.
After my story, the police did search my house. I’d told them their was no need, but they had disagreed. They found evidence that someone had been living in a back closet in my attic. They moved through the house in my vents. Candy wrappers and empty chip bags had been found in both the closet and the vents. A large pile had been next to the vent that overlooked me room. As if someone had sat there and watched.
My mother was officially in the wind. They haven’t been able to find her or her car. The tarp and ropes my attic guest mentioned were nowhere to be found. Neither my dad now my brother have heard from her. My dad let me know she had moved out earlier this year, into a three bedroom apartment. She was living alone but the other rooms are filled with toys and clothes. Clothes that would have fit my children. There were locks on the outside of the bedroom doors.
I’ve tried texting the number I received the warning from but haven’t gotten any response. If you’re reading this, thank you. You saved my life and you saved me family. You will always have a home in my house.