The television faded to black, and I looked over at the dog, Mei Tai Zi. He looked perfectly content to sleep the night away on the living room floor, but I needed a bed. Grabbing the side of the couch, I pulled myself to a standing position and surveyed the living room. Rather than chasing away the shadows, the moonlight streaming in gave the room a haunted feeling. It felt like I was seeing a vision of the house from the future, where it stood abandoned and worn down. It was painful to think of my childhood home in that state. I shuffled off towards the stairs and my bedroom.
I paused at the bottom of the staircase and looked at Mom's bed. She had slept downstairs for a few months before she died. The stairs were simply too exhausting - and therefore risky - to end the day with. Before, I would have been helping her to change into her pajamas and climb into bed. As slow as that process was, I never wanted to rush it. Most days sprint along, leaving me feeling like I'm constantly falling farther and farther behind. But while I helped Mom go to bed, I was at peace in the moment. I hadn't been able to find another way to connect with that feeling. Mom's bed was neatly made, and showed no signs that anyone had slept in it for a while. I put my hand on the matress and lightly pressed down, then headed upstairs to my bedroom.
I hadn't been sleeping enough, and the complaints from my body and brain were now incessant. I must have fallen asleep the moment I closed my eyes, but I couldn't remember it happening. I couldn't have slept long, though, before I woke up with a jolt. The air in my room had chilled during the night, and it seemed to squeeze at my lungs with each breath. I scanned the room for some hint at what had made the noise, but everything seemed in order. Perhaps the sound was a part of a dream.
I had already put my head back down to sleep when I noticed it. A thin sliver of light slashing across my floor. It had slid in under the crack beneath my door, and now shone plainly, as if it had been there all along. Had I turned off all of the lights on my way up? I couldn't remember doing so, but I had always been careful to do so in the past.
I crept to the door and looked underneath it. The sliver of light betrayed no sign of its origin. Softly, I open the door of my bedroom and stepped out into the hallway. My father's soft snores floated through the air. I saw clearly now that the light was from Mom's room downstairs. Had I left a light on down there? I couldn't have. I clearly remembered it being dark as I headed up the stairs. I listened intently, but there were no unusual sounds present. I felt somehow frozen as I stood there looking down. There could be something dangerous downstairs - someone who broke into our home looking to steal some electronics.
Or it could be that Mom had come back. In the back of my mind, I knew that there was some logical explanation for how the light had been turned on, but as long as I stayed upstairs, I could preserve the possibility that Mom was downstairs in her bed, still alive. Or at least, I could delay a tussle with a burglar.
Finally I convinced myself to investigate, and I began my descent. With each step lower, I grew more anxious at what I might find. I should have found some sort of weapon, I chided myself. As I reached the landing, I could see Mom's bed clearly. It was empty as I had left it. I scanned the room for some sign of disturbance, but everything seemed to be in order. I walked over to the small lamp that was on to examine it, and noticed it was plugged into a timer. My dad must have the light set to go on at a certain time every night. I grunted to myself, disappointed at the explanation and feeling the mystery drain out of the evening. I turned around and looked back at Mom's empty bed. The house seemed somehow more silent than before.
"I need help!"
The cry came from somewhere else. It seemed like it was in another room around the corner. To my surprise, I found myself moving briskly towards the sounds. The urgency in the voice I heard seemed to have overwhelmed my prudence.
"Help, please!" The voice was coming from the bathroom. I tried the door, and the handle turned easily. Finally my sense caught up with me. Should I really be barging into a bathroom when there is no reason for anyone to be in there? How could anyone have gotten into the house? Why would they be using the bathroom? Why would they be calling for help? It didn't add up.
"Help!" I couldn't stop myself now. I recognized the voice and the desperation behind it. As I opened the door, I could already see her on the ground, lying on her side. It was Mom.