The porch light swung once like a tiny, solitary farewell as the house ascended into the air.
It took the better part of the day to secure it onto the flatbed transport system.
By the time evening arrived, the lot had been raked and scraped perfectly clean.
Mendez’s crew picked up every single nail and stray scrap of lumber before packing their equipment away.
When their convoy finally drove away, there was nothing left but flat, barren ground and an expansive, empty sky.
I stood there for a few minutes in the absolute quiet of the evening.
Then I drove to Elise’s home where Buster barked at the door and Elise handed me a glass of wine without saying a word because she understood that there were no words sufficient for this moment.
We sat on her back porch until midnight listening to the wind chimes, and for the first time in as long as I could remember, I fell asleep without waiting for something to go wrong.
Jaxon’s flight touched down on a Sunday morning.
I knew this because I had memorized every detail of his itinerary.
I drove to our old street in Elise’s car because I did not want him to recognize my vehicle, and I parked far enough back to watch without being seen.
I held a travel mug of coffee and realized I had absolutely nowhere else to be.
The taxi pulled up to the curb at exactly 11:24 a.m.
Jaxon stepped out first, rolling his suitcase onto the sidewalk with the entitled confidence of a man returning from a successful holiday.
He was deeply tanned and wearing expensive designer sunglasses.
Blair slid out behind him looking perfectly polished despite the long flight, carrying a designer bag that likely cost more than my first car.
She reached over to touch his arm and he gave her that specific, charming smile that I used to believe was reserved exclusively for me.
Parker stepped out next while scrolling through his phone.
Hazel climbed out last in her comfortable hoodie, looking exhausted by the journey.
They all stopped in their tracks at the exact same moment.
Jaxon’s suitcase handle slipped from his grip as if he had suddenly forgotten he was even holding it.
His head turned in a slow, disbelieving arc, scanning left to right while he took in the flat, empty lot where a three bedroom house with a beautiful wraparound porch had stood only forty eight hours earlier.
His mouth hung open in shock.
Blair made a sharp, panicked sound, something that wasn’t quite a word but rather a sudden intake of air.
She stepped forward as if she intended to walk to where the front door had been, but she stopped abruptly because there was simply no place left to walk.
Hazel whispered, “Dad?”
My phone began to ring three minutes later.
I watched him dial the number from my vantage point across the street.
I watched his hand reflexively go up to his hair in the exact gesture he made whenever he felt the world tilting off its axis.
I let the phone ring four times before I finally answered.
“Where is it?” his voice demanded, the polished, confident memo writer replaced by something significantly rawer. “Ruby, where in the hell is the house?”
“It is gone,” I replied, the words feeling clean and refreshing in my mouth.
