ghosts

a house we didn't buy...

Cami Kaos

Cami Kaos

— 3 min read
Years ago when we were still living in Suburbia and K was just a wee little thing we spent a great deal of our spare time looking at houses. We knew where we wanted to live and we knew what we needed in a home. We were also painfully aware of what we had to spend to get what we wanted where we wanted it. Basically we needed to find something under priced or needing work. Probably both.One day we toured a house with our ever patient realtor. It was on a busier street than we would have liked and it only had one bathroom but it was good sized and had a lot of potential.It needed work. A lot of work. But I liked it, we considered it for a few moments as we walked through the downstairs. We saw the tiny only bathroom and the crumbling but large kitchen and the 2 main floor bedrooms and we were thinking "Hey, this is pretty okay"But halfway up the staircase carrying a one year old K in my arms I got a chill and she began to whimper. She was a fussy kid (still is) so we thought little of it, I was more concerned with how uncomfortable I'd suddenly become. We passed by a small room to head into the large master. I wanted to leave, I didn't want that house, It was done for me. Mr. Kaos wanted to press on though so we went into the dimly lit master. If I hadn't gotten a serious case of the heebie jeebies I might still have been considering it as a home. Our realtor lead as to a walk in closet door and I wanted to scramble but I still pressed on. The closet was a nice size, but on its back wall was another door. It lead into the little room we had passed when we first came upstairs.I didn't even have to step into the room to feel the grief that wafted from the open door. I peeked through holding my breath and gripping K more tightly. She started to whimper as I looked at the one small window with dingy curtains, they were once white with primary colored circus characters... once. That very moment I was so terrified for my child that I walked out of the little room down the stairs and through the front door. I waited there until Mr. Kaos and the realtor were done. I did my best to push everything about that house from my mind.A year later we were still looking for houses and having seen more than I can recall we finally found the very home I'm sitting in. But it didn't go smoothly and after learning that they had accepted another offer we continued to look in the neighborhood. It was a Sunday, just days after we'd made the offer on our current home, that we walked around the neighborhood with a 2 year old K checking out open houses. We saw a sign for one on a street that was a little busier than we would like, but it was close enough to our price range and had 3 bedrooms and two bathrooms so we took a look. It was lovely, someone had come in and done a tremendous job remodeling this house, it would be a good family home for someone. Something in me said maybe not us, though I loved the large kitchen and the two nice main floor bedrooms...We started up the stairs and a chill ran over me but I was too busy helping little K up the stairs as she babbled and played to pay it much mind. We walked straight through to a lovely, if a little dim, master suite and I was suddenly reminded of something, though what I couldn't be sure. We headed back towards the newly added master bath and I stopped dead in my tracks as I realized where I was... at that very moment K whispered in my ear:"Mama, what happened to that baby?"I walked back through the bedroom down the stairs and out to the front porch with my baby in my arms. I sat there breathing slowly, calming myself. K asked about "that baby" once again and all I could say was that I didn't know, but that everyone was very sad. She agreed and curled up in my lap with her baby doll and looked at the sun in the trees.When Mr. Kaos came outside he hugged us tightly and said "I wondered when you'd realize it was the same house, I figured it out in the kitchen". I shot him my best wounded withering glare and we headed down the street for some lunch in what we hoped would one day be our neighborhood.Well people, I'm not one for ghost stories... but that's mine.

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