Old Room, Old Ghosts
1196 Words
Natalie lingered at the bottom of the staircase long after Marcus had left, her family’s laughter still bouncing through the kitchen like sleigh bells. She could hear Aunt Sylvia teasing Jamie about eating like a horse, her mother humming as she rinsed plates, and in the middle of it all, the echo of Marcus’s voice—deep, confident, maddeningly at home in the Bennett household.
She pressed her palms against her jeans, forcing herself to move. The excuse was ready-made: the long flight, the jet lag. Everyone had nodded sympathetically when she’d mentioned it at the table. If she slipped away now, no one would think twice.
Her childhood bedroom waited at the top of the stairs, just as it had years ago. The door creaked faintly when she pushed it open, and for a moment she stood on the threshold, letting the wave of nostalgia wash over her.
The walls were still a soft lavender her teenage self had begged for. A corkboard hung crookedly over the desk, studded with faded photos, curling ticket stubs, and glitter-smeared notes from high school friends. The twin bed was neatly made, the quilt patterned in tiny violets. Her mother must have freshened the linens before her arrival, because the faint scent of lavender sachets lingered in the air.
Natalie set her suitcase down with a thud. She sat on the bed’s edge, smoothing her hands over the quilt. For a moment, she just breathed, but her chest felt tight.
This was supposed to be a refuge. Instead, it felt like a time capsule she wasn’t ready to open.
With a sigh, she unzipped her suitcase. Unpacking gave her something to do, a distraction from the thoughts swirling like snowflakes in her head.
Clothes went into drawers, and shoes lined up neatly by the closet. She tugged out her laptop bag, setting it on the desk as though she might actually open it and bury herself in work. But as she reached deeper into the suitcase, her fingers brushed something soft and worn.
She pulled it free.
The Evergreen High T-shirt, faded from too many washes, the school mascot snarling across the front in cracked white lettering. She’d slept in it last night without thinking, storming out to confront the noise outside—only to find Marcus on the roof. The memory made her wince. Of all the things she could have been wearing.
Natalie balled the shirt in her fists, then tossed it onto the bed. She told herself it was just cotton and fabric dye, nothing more. But it was also years of Friday night games, pep rallies, bonfires… and Marcus Carter, smirking across the bleachers, always her competitor, always just close enough to needle her.
She shook her head, turning back to her suitcase.
A small cardboard box sat wedged in the corner, tucked beneath her heels. Curious, she lifted it out. Her mother must have packed it up when she’d moved to the city. Inside were relics: an old diary bound in fake leather, a stack of photographs, a tangle of friendship bracelets. She picked one photo from the pile and froze.
It was the Christmas festival, senior year. A group shot: her, Emma, Jess, three other friends she hadn’t thought about in years. And there, at the edge, Marcus—grinning like he owned the world, a Santa hat tipped rakishly over one eye.
Natalie’s throat tightened. She remembered that night all too well. The snowball fight that had spiraled into chaos, Marcus somehow landed the perfect shot right to her back. She’d sworn vengeance, chased him across the square, and ended up slipping in a snowbank while he laughed until his breath fogged the air. She’d hated him for it. She’d liked him for it. Both at once, in a way that had scared her more than she admitted.
Snapping the box shut, she shoved it back into the suitcase.
A knock at the door startled her.
“Honey?” Her mother’s voice carried through, soft and familiar.
Natalie quickly straightened the bedspread, as though tidying could disguise her unrest. “Come in, Mom.”
Linda Bennett stepped inside, balancing a tray with two mugs of cocoa topped with whipped cream. “Thought you could use this. Jet lag is always worse on the first day.”
Natalie managed a smile. “Thanks.” She accepted the mug, the warmth seeping into her palms.
Her mother sat beside her on the bed, smoothing her skirt. “It’s nice having you back in this room. Feels like yesterday you were heading off to prom.”
Natalie chuckled softly. “Feels like another lifetime.”
Linda sipped her cocoa, her gaze flicking toward the suitcase, then back to her daughter. “It must be strange, seeing Evergreen after so long.”
“Strange is one word,” Natalie said carefully.
Her mother hesitated before speaking again. “Marcus has been such a blessing around here. Truly. After your father passed, there were so many little things that needed tending. He never hesitated—not once. He’s like family, Nat.”
Natalie’s grip tightened around her mug. “So I noticed.”
Linda gave her a look, gentle but perceptive. “You two used to be thick as thieves once. Even when you bickered, I could see the spark between you.”
Natalie’s pulse jumped. “We were kids, Mom. That’s ancient history.”
“Maybe,” Linda said softly. “But sometimes the past has a way of circling back at the right time.”
Natalie forced a laugh. “I came back to breathe, not to… rekindle old rivalries.”
Her mother studied her for a moment, then simply patted her knee. “Well, rivalry or not, he’s been a good friend to this family. You’ll see it more and more while you’re here. Evergreen is small—you can’t help but run into people. Especially Marcus.”
Natalie lifted her mug, letting the cocoa mask her silence.
Her mother stayed a while longer, chatting about the upcoming town hall decorations, about Sylvia’s choir rehearsals, about Jamie’s insistence on wearing his Santa hat to school every day. But Natalie’s mind kept drifting back to the sound of Marcus’s laugh at the breakfast table, the glint in his eye when he’d baited her into arguing about races and pumpkin carving.
When her mother finally left, the room felt too quiet. Natalie set the cocoa on her nightstand and stretched out on the bed. She told herself the fatigue was real, that the excuse of a long flight wasn’t entirely false. But the truth pressed heavier on her chest: she didn’t want to sit downstairs listening to everyone fawn over Marcus Carter, not when her nerves were already raw.
She closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep.
But instead of rest, her mind replayed the morning—the cinnamon roll sweetness, her family’s laughter, Marcus leaning back in his chair with that infuriating grin.
She hated how easily the memories stirred something in her.
And she hated, even more, the thought that maybe coming back to Evergreen Falls wasn’t going to give her peace at all.
- Writer
