Twelve Years Waiting for a House Key

The day I finish my college entrance exam, I drag my suitcase back to my parents' house downtown. When Mom opens the door, the first thing she says is, "Now that your college entrance exam is over, stay home for a while." She says a while, not for good. There are three children in our family. My older brother, Samuel Stroud, and my younger sister, Isabelle Stroud, have always lived with our parents, while I was raised by my grandparents. Samuel has his own study, while Isabelle has her own bedroom. I sleep in the living room. Everything they give me is temporary. My toothbrush is disposable, my slippers are disposable, and even my towel is disposable. I don't even have a key to the house. "You don't come home often," Mom always says. "What do you need a key for?" So every time I come back, I stand outside the door like a guest, waiting for someone to let me in. But this time, they finally give me a key. Samuel places it in my palm with a smile. "We're going on a trip for a few days. You can stay home and get some proper rest." On the coffee table sit four plane tickets, neatly arranged in a row. They're for Dad, Mom, Samuel, and Isabelle—but not me. I look down at the key I've waited 12 years to have, and suddenly, I laugh. I finally understand why they gave it to me. It isn't a key meant to welcome me home. It's a reminder that it's time for me to leave. Chapter 1 "What are you standing there for?" My older brother, Samuel Stroud, waved a hand in front of my face. "Put the key somewhere safe. We're leaving first thing tomorrow morning. If you lose it, you won't be able to get back into the house." My younger sister, Isabelle Stroud, came out of her room carrying an armful of dresses. "Mom, should I take this blue one? Will it make me look darker in photos?" Mom walked over and took the dress from her. "No. Blue looks best on you. Take the white one too. It'll look great in pictures by the beach." "But it'll get dirty easily." "Then I'll wash it for you," Mom said. "What's there to worry about?" She said it so naturally, as though washing her daughter's dirty clothes was simply what a mother was supposed to do. I looked down at the key in my hand, and suddenly I was reminded of something that had happened years ago. I'd gotten dirt on the sleeve of my school uniform once. I was afraid Grandma would be too tired to wash it, so I knelt beside the washbasin and scrubbed it myself. The water was painfully cold that winter. My fingertips went numb within minutes, but I didn't dare stop. I needed the uniform again the next day. Eventually, I developed chilblains on my hands. They would crack, heal, and crack again. Even now, faint marks remained on the backs of my hands. Dad was still going over the travel itinerary on his phone. "We'll leave at 6:30 tomorrow morning and get to the airport by 7:30. Our flight's at ten. Once we get there, we'll drop our luggage at the hotel first. Then we'll go to the beach in the afternoon and have seafood for dinner." Samuel leaned over to look at the screen. "Don't order too much seafood. Izzie's already eaten enough to put on weight." "Mom, look at him!" Isabelle immediately protested. "He's making fun of me again." Mom laughed and tried to smooth things over. "We'll just leave him locked outside the hotel." They continued excitedly planning their trip, talking about the beach, the sunset, and the restaurants they'd visit. No one asked if I wanted to go. No one seemed to think I should. I stood there quietly, like a piece of luggage that nobody had remembered to put away. After some time, Mom finally remembered I was there and turned to me. "Oh, right. Nat, what do you want to eat while you're here? There are vegetables in the fridge, and we've got frozen pizzas too. If you don't feel like cooking, just order takeout." "Anything's fine," I said. She seemed relieved. "That's good. You grew up with your grandparents, so you should know how to take care of yourself." I nodded. That was true. I was very good at taking care of myself. When I had a fever as a child, I knew how to put a wet towel on my own forehead. When it rained and no one came to pick me up, I would hold my schoolbag over my head and run home. The year Grandma's legs started hurting, I learned how to cook, do the laundry, and pay the utility bills. I'd always been good at taking care of myself, and that was why they never worried about me. They were so confident I'd be fine that they forgot I was only 18 and had just finished my college entrance exam. Dad glanced at the time. "It's getting late. Nat, go take a shower first. Your mom will get your pajamas for you later." "No need," I said. "I brought my own." My luggage was still by the entrance. I had a black canvas bag with a zipper that had broken once. Grandma had sewn it back together with black thread. I took my change of clothes and headed into the bathroom. Chapter 2 Four towels hung on the wall. The gray one belonged to Dad, and the beige one belonged to Mom. The dark blue towel belonged to Samuel, while the pink one belonged to Isabelle. There wasn't one for me. I stood there for a long time, staring at the four towels. Eventually, I turned toward the bathroom door and reached for the knob. I was about to ask Mom which one I was supposed to use when I heard their hushed voices from the living room. "Izzie, just be good, okay? She'll only be staying for a few days. Once we're back from the trip, we'll send her back to your grandparents' place." My hand froze on the doorknob. The conversation continued. "I'm not staying with her. I don't want to." Isabelle's voice came muffled through the door. "She smells weird, and all her stuff looks so cheap." "It'll only be for one night," Mom whispered, trying to soothe her. "We're leaving tomorrow anyway." "Then why can't she sleep in the living room?" Samuel's voice joined in. "Listen, I won't let her sleep in my room either," he continued. "I've got study materials all over my desk. What if she messes everything up?" "She won't go through your things," Mom said. "How do you know that?" Samuel scoffed. "She grew up in the countryside. Who knows what kind of bad habits she might have picked up?" "Exactly," Isabelle chimed in. "I already feel uncomfortable with her here. Things were so much better when it was just the four of us." Dad sighed. "She came back so suddenly, and it just happened to be right before our trip. But she's already here. We should at least let her stay a few days before sending her back." I'd heard those words countless times before. When I was little, I once asked Mom why Samuel and Isabelle could live with her and Dad while I couldn't. "Things are a little difficult at home," she told me. "Your grandparents can take care of you, too." I asked Dad the same thing once—why Samuel could transfer to a school in the city while I couldn't. "Because we drew lots, and Samuel's name came up." I was three years old then, and Isabelle hadn't been born yet. Mom and Dad were leaving for the city to make a living, and they couldn't take both children with them. So they decided to draw lots. Whoever's name they drew would go with them to the city. Dad drew Samuel's name. And just like that, Samuel went with them while I stayed in the countryside with my grandparents. For years afterward, I kept thinking that if Dad had drawn my name that day, everything would've been different. If I'd been the one they'd taken with them, would I have had a room of my own? Would Mom have checked my homework every night? Would Dad have picked me up from school? I even secretly resented that little slip of paper for keeping me apart from my parents. But now, I finally understood. It had never mattered whose name they drew. What mattered was who they wanted to take with them. In the living room, Mom was still trying to reason with Isabelle. "We'll talk about Natalie after we get back from the trip," she said. "She grew up with your grandparents, so there are a lot of things no one ever taught her. Just don't hold those things against her." No one taught me, so that was why I was dirty, unsophisticated, and didn't know how to behave. But no one had ever stopped to ask why no one had taught me in the first place. I didn't want to hear another word, so I pushed the bathroom door open. "Which towel am I supposed to use?" The entire room fell silent. Their expressions changed, as though I'd just walked in on something I wasn't supposed to hear. Mom was the first to recover. She quickly straightened and said, "Nat, you—" "Which towel am I supposed to use?" I cut her off. Mom's face paled. "Nat, don't read too much into it," Dad said with a frown. "I'm not," I replied. "So which towel should I use?" Samuel clicked his tongue impatiently, while Isabelle started inspecting her dress. Mom stared at me for a moment before walking toward the bathroom. "I'll get you a new one," she finally said with a sigh. "There are still some new towels in the cupboard." A disposable toothbrush, a pair of disposable slippers, a brand-new towel—everything they kept for me in this house was new because I was only ever temporary. Mom rummaged through the storage cabinet and pulled out a white towel. When she handed it to me, she looked exhausted, as though I were the one being unreasonable. "Nat, that's really not what I meant. We were just worried you wouldn't be comfortable." I lowered my eyes, pretending not to notice the look on her face. "I know." I took the towel and went back into the bathroom. As the hot water poured over me, I looked down at my palms. Chapter 3 A moment ago, there had been a key in my hand—something I'd waited 12 years to have. But I was beginning to understand that some doors would forever remain closed, no matter whether I had the key to unlock them. When I came out of the shower, Mom wanted me to sleep in Isabelle's room. But Isabelle was sitting on her bed without saying a word. Mom looked at her for a moment before placing the thin blanket she'd brought for me on the couch. "Don't turn the air conditioning down too low tonight," Mom said. "You'll catch a cold. We're leaving early tomorrow, so we won't wake you. Get some extra sleep." I nodded. Then she seemed to remember something and pointed toward the coffee table. "Keep the house key somewhere safe. While we're away, help us collect any packages that arrive. And water the plants on the balcony every couple of days. Make sure you take out the trash regularly too. It'll start to smell in this weather." Dad glanced at me. "If the building manager comes by to check the water meter, don't just let them in. Call us first." Samuel added, "I'll lock my bedroom door, so don't go in." "And don't touch anything on my desk," Isabelle said. "Especially my standees." The summer after Samuel had finished his college entrance exam, Mom and Dad took him to Yoria. When Isabelle finished her middle school entrance exams, they took her to Brisneyland. But now that it was my turn, all they gave me was one reminder after another. Once I'd nodded along to everything, Mom started urging Samuel and Isabelle to get ready for bed. "Hurry up and take a shower. Don't stay up too late, or you'll have trouble getting up tomorrow." Dad was still looking at his phone. "One last thing. I sent the hotel information to the family group chat. Make sure you both check it." As soon as he finished speaking, several notification sounds rang out in quick succession—from Mom's phone, Samuel's, and Isabelle's. Only mine remained silent. "Is Nat in the group?" Dad asked, finally seeming to notice me. Mom paused. "I don't think she is." "Then add her in later." "No need," I said. Dad looked at me as though he didn't hear me. "What?" Before I could repeat myself, Samuel called out from the hallway, "Dad, do you have my ID card?" Dad immediately got to his feet. "Let me check. It might be in my bag or your mom's." He disappeared into the master bedroom without asking what I'd said. A few minutes later, the living room light went out. One by one, the doors to the three bedrooms closed. I lay down on the couch and stared at the dark ceiling, my mind strangely blank. Then my phone suddenly vibrated. It was Grandma. "Nat, are you asleep?" "Not yet." "Are you settling in okay?" she asked. "Did they make you anything good to eat?" My throat tightened. I thought about my first dinner after coming home. Mom had made the sweet corn and pork ribs Isabelle liked, along with the shrimp Samuel loved. She'd even added cilantro to the food because Dad liked it. Not one of them remembered that I was allergic to it. I took a few slow breaths before answering, "Yes." Grandma seemed to sense something off about my voice. "Nat," she said softly after a moment of silence. "Are you happy?" "No." "If you're unhappy, just come home. Your grandpa bought a watermelon today. He's got it chilling in the well water right now. I've already cleaned up your room too. I washed the bedding and put it out in the sun. It smells so nice." For a moment, I almost cried. There was no room for me at my parents' house. But at Grandma and Grandpa's, there was a room waiting for me—not a couch in the living room that someone had hastily made up or a corner of Isabelle's room that she didn't want to share. At Grandma and Grandpa's, I had a room that was mine. I owned a bed, a desk, and even a wall covered in my certificates. Grandpa suddenly called out loudly from beside her, "Tell her I'll go to the station to pick her up whenever she comes home." I bit down hard on my lip, refusing to let myself cry. Grandma's voice softened again. "Nat, if something's bothering you over there, say it. You shouldn't have to keep quiet in your own home." After we hung up, my phone screen went dark, and the living room fell silent again. Three strips of light spilled from beneath the three bedroom doors, along with the sound of laughter from inside. Grandma was right. I shouldn't have to be afraid to voice my true feelings at home. But sadly, this wasn't my home. I wiped the tears from my face and opened the app to book a train ticket. There was a train leaving for my grandparents' town at eight the next morning. I entered my details and tapped "Purchase". Chapter 4 When the payment confirmation appeared on my screen, I let out a long breath. It was 1,200 miles from here to my grandparents' home. I'd made that journey 48 times over the past 12 years, but from now on, there wouldn't be a 49th. … It was still dark when Mom got up at five the next morning. She woke Isabelle first, then went to wake Samuel. As she passed through the living room, her footsteps slowed. I could feel her standing beside me, looking down at me for a moment. She gently pulled the blanket higher over my shoulders. The next second, Isabelle called out from her room. "Mom, where are my sunglasses?" "Coming!" Mom called out, immediately hurrying toward Isabelle. "They're in your bag." I opened my eyes and watched her walk toward the door. Dad was changing his shoes by the entrance, while Samuel had his camera out, taking pictures of Isabelle. I sat up. Noticing that I was awake, Mom paused. "Did we wake you?" I shook my head. "That's good," Isabelle said. "By the way, Nat, can you take a picture of us before we go?" She shoved the camera into my hands, and no one seemed to think there was anything strange about that. The four of them stood together by the door. Dad held the suitcases, while Isabelle linked her arm through Mom's. Samuel stood behind them, flashing a peace sign over Isabelle's head. I pressed the shutter. "Done." Isabelle took the camera back, a wide smile spreading across her face. "Oh my gosh, I look so good in this one." "Send it to the family group," Samuel said. Mom nodded. "I will." I glanced at my phone, and it remained completely silent. The door opened, and the motion-sensor light in the hallway flicked on. As they pulled their suitcases out into the hall, Mom glanced back at me. She seemed like she was about to say something, but in the end, all she said was, "Nat, behave yourself while we're gone." I nodded. "Okay." The door closed. Their voices faded behind it, then disappeared completely as the elevator carried them downstairs. The apartment fell silent. I sat there for a while before getting up. I picked up my canvas bag from the floor, folded my clothes, and packed them away. Then I slung the bag over my shoulder and stood by the door. Two shelves of Samuel's sneakers filled the shoe cabinet, while Isabelle's leather shoes were lined up neatly beside them. I only had one pair on my feet—the same pair I'd worn when I arrived. I opened the door, and the lock made a soft click. It sounded exactly the same as it did when I unlocked it with the key. Yet in all these years, I'd never once used a key to open this door. I placed the key back on top of the shoe cabinet, then I closed the door and walked downstairs. My phone rang just as I got into the cab. It was Mom. I answered it. Airport announcements echoed in the background, mixed with Isabelle's laughter. "Nat, I didn't see you on the security camera," Mom said. "Did you go out? Did you take the key with you?" "No." "You really are something," she chided. "You went out without your key, and now someone's going to have to come and let you in—" "I won't need that," I interrupted, my voice calm. "I'm not going back." There was a brief silence on the other end. "What do you mean you're not going back?" Mom asked, sounding confused. "I'm going home." Mom's voice immediately switched to a reprimanding one. "What are you on about, Natalie? Aren't you already home?" I said nothing. I could hear Isabelle in the background. "Mom, what's wrong?" Then Samuel's voice came through. "What did Natalie do this time?" Dad took the phone. "Natalie, stop messing around," he said, his voice low and stern. "We're already at the airport. Stay home and wait for us. If there's a problem, we'll deal with it when we get back." Watching the streets rush past the cab window, I suddenly remembered the moment I finished my college entrance exam. Grandma had been waiting outside the school gate. She was short, and the crowd had almost completely hidden her from view. I could see only half her face, but I spotted her immediately because she was the only one waiting for me. Ever since I was young, she and Grandpa had been the only ones waiting for me. "I'm not messing around," I finally said, exhaling. "This just isn't my home. Mom, Dad, enjoy your trip." After I hung up, I opened my contacts list and blocked them one by one. Then I deleted every number. This time, I wasn't being sent away. I was going home.