\nCousin Marc gave me his best performance of a solemn nod. An exaggerated pout pulled at his jowls to sell the bit. \u201cSo sorry, again. So sorry, Twon\u201d he said. He looked to Liro whom gripped the hem of my pants, but even he couldn\u2019t make up something comforting to say to someone so young. He turned and made his way out into the searing late afternoon sun, with a go bag from the buffet tucked under his arm.\n<\/p>\n
\nThat meant only Uncle Terry remained. His family had already retreated to their car.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe stout man shuffled over and took a moment to pinch his lips at me to make sure I recognized the heavy weight of his gaze. \u201cTwon,\u201d he said. \u201cI can\u2019t imagine how you feel right now.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI nodded. Uncle Terry had seemed pleasant the few times we\u2019d met, but I\u2019d run out of courtesy to give hours ago.\n<\/p>\n
\nHe cleared his throat and started again. \u201cBut you\u2019re not alone, okay? Liro looks up to you, but he needs a lot of care and acting as his parent is a whole new ball game.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nLiro\u2019s hand snaked into my own, and I looked down. Red rings circled the skin around his eyes and he wavered even as he held on to my leg. His flare up had started the day after the accident.\n<\/p>\n
\nI snapped my tongue. \u201cI\u2019m not replacing our parents.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nTerry grunted and ran a hand over his hair. \u201cYeah, of course. I know that. All I\u2019m saying is that we want to help if it gets hard. If you need anything. Really, even if you need a place to stay.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nMy breath caught in my throat. What<\/em>? Ma and Pa\u2019s collection of vis panes flickered out back and caught my gaze. I\u2019d powered it up before the reception. The cloudy panes stood in an uneven line, rigged in an approximation of a wall. The kaleidoscope of shifting colors danced across the face of each one, never quite matching with the image on the neighbor. Ma and Pa were part of the first wave of street artists who changed the game by hacking digital-marketing vis panes that covered buildings. My heart knew that if I watched that display a little longer, I\u2019d see dad trudge out from the shed with a digipen. He’d pull at the hem of whichever light brown or leafy green tank top he wore and use it to mop the sweat from his brow.\n<\/p>\n \nMy heart lied. No one would ever finish the tag out back. It was mine now. I looked down to Liro, his hand in mine. Ours.<\/em>\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWe\u2019re not leaving,\u201d I told Uncle Terry.\n<\/p>\n \n \nI tried to tally up the damage, but I lost my breath before I could finish. Water still dripped from the open window. It sloshed around my ankles as I maneuvered around shelves and stacks of boxes that hadn\u2019t fallen. At least half of the boxes had darkened from the summer-sky blue of Warehoming Inc.\u2019s brand colors to a deep navy blue at being sodden. I turned away from Ma and Pa\u2019s vis pane display out back and chewed at my lip. A bead of sweat slid down my cheek. Our clothes were damp and sticky from more than just a little flooding. It was hot as a state officer\u2019s glare, and air conditioning was as much a myth to Liro and me as the pursuit of happiness.<\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nLiro scratched at his short-cropped hair. \u201cHow bad is it?\u201d His voice cracked when he asked.\n<\/p>\n \nI found myself blinking stinging sweat from my eyes. \u201cThe window.\u201d It was all I could say.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThe latch must have come loose,\u201d he said. \u201cI closed the damn thing. I swear I did.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nMy untended bush of curly hair snagged my fingers as I pulled them through. I didn\u2019t have the energy to admonish Liro for cussing again. Many of these boxes contained books or random consumer goods like dog food or hygiene products. We\u2019d just received computer components from PC Parts Supply though, and some of those were big ticket items. I\u2019d have to check the logs. The shipment contained sticks of RAM and keyboards, but we\u2019d also received at least a handful of GPUs, processors and motherboards. The Warehoming loss department would notice.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIt\u2019s okay.\u201d I said it through gritted teeth to keep my voice from breaking. \u201cWe\u2019ll need to clean up everything we can. We have enough spare cardboard to re-box everything that\u2019s salvageable. We\u2019ll need to save what we can, and then we\u2019ll file a claim on the rest.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHis voice was as small as the day Ma and Pa died. \u201cWhat will happen?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI gulped down the tremor that threatened my voice. \u201cAn inspector will come. We\u2019ll need to clean up everything.<\/em>\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nLiro smacked a hand to his face dramatically. \u201cOh, Bondye<\/em>.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIt\u2019s okay. We just need to get to work.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWill we lose the house?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI knew his real question. Will we lose the memories?<\/em>\n<\/p>\n \nI\u2019d dropped out of University and got a job waiting tables the day after the funeral almost three years ago. Academic scholarships couldn\u2019t pay for Liro\u2019s medications after all. I got a second job working carts two months later. Then I lost the waiting job. I took Liro to urgent care twice in a week during a flare up, and that made me unreliable. I lost the cart job not long after when Liro\u2019s appointments made my employment too cumbersome to continue. The laundry machine broke maybe six week later. With every storm, the stain on the ceiling of the sitting room grew just as the stain on my mood.\n<\/p>\n \nAt one point, I\u2019d skipped so many meals that my stomach twisted to heave dry coughs into an unimpressed toilet. I looked into Warehoming Supply Services Inc. as soon as Liro went to sleep that night. I refused to sell the house, but that didn\u2019t mean I couldn\u2019t leverage its value for a return. The house wasn\u2019t in a condition to use as a BNB rental, but we could rent the space out for eCommerce logistics. I\u2019d signed us up before he woke that day. As my own boss, I might be able to make enough money to support Liro. Companies like Warehoming promised next-hour delivery for ninety percent of their eCommerce partners\u2019 deliveries. It was good for the consumer. It was good for the reputation of the company that sold the products, and it was good for Warehoming to take a cut. They also accepted new freelance storage vendors with markedly few hoops, so it was good for people desperate enough to leverage their home as an asset. Like Liro and me.\n<\/p>\n \nInventory from countless eCommerce businesses using Warehoming as their distributor filled up the house by the end of the month. It took up the living room and the sitting room. Boxes filled the hallways, and all three bedrooms. Liro and I tucked ourselves into a tiny corner of the master bedroom on a mattress of pillows stacked atop each other. We gave the whole house to Warehoming except for that one corner and our parents\u2019 vis tag out back. We weren\u2019t losing that.\n<\/p>\n \nMy lip curled when I answered him. \u201cNo way in hell.\u201d\n<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \nI bent my whole body into wringing the towel. Water splattered at my feet and ran down my arms in rivulets. I sighed and hung the rag over a rod in the sunlight. My shoes squelched as I tromped back into the living room from the back door. We\u2019d removed all the boxes yesterday, leaving those that were salvageable outside and sending Liro upstairs with the rest to repackage. I\u2019d then dried one half of the carpet. Fans roared on either side of the room still, but getting that much water out of a room didn\u2019t happen quickly. With the second half as dry as I could get it today, I could start moving boxes back into the side I\u2019d dried yesterday.\n<\/p>\n \nThe doorbell sounded, and Liro called out from upstairs that he had it. Must have been a delivery driver, then. The deliverers were good people mostly, gig workers leveraging a different asset for a wheezing gasp of income. Liro met as many of them as possible. He was still cute, and the drivers took a liking to a child with a hitched step who used their dialectical profanity right back at them\u2014despite my efforts. It kept our ratings up. Liro would have called to me if it was an inventory van. The inventory drivers didn\u2019t care if a gap-toothed smile greeted them all the way below the long noses they looked down. They were salary folk. They just wanted fast.\n<\/p>\n \nI grabbed the dolly and slid it underneath a stack of three boxes and wheeled it into the living room. My forearms ached as I set it down, and I tugged at it weakly when they were stable.\n<\/p>\n \nThe sound of ripping stopped me cold.\n<\/p>\n \nI clenched my eyes shut for a moment. I could keep Liro in this house if God said the same, but I didn\u2019t know if I could deal with another emergency.\n<\/p>\n \nI bent to investigate and found a twirled cream thread of the carpet twisted around the dolly\u2019s axel. A long straight run sliced through the carpet and marked it the same as the rest of the house, the same as Liro and me: starting to fall apart.\n<\/p>\n \nMy legs didn\u2019t much care for work at that moment. So, I plopped down the carpet, and a breath I hadn\u2019t realized I was holding whistled through my teeth.\n<\/p>\n \nI scanned the rest of the room and noticed other runs, maybe a dozen of them. One stretched almost the full width of the room. My fingers found the carpet and traced through the machined waves of fabric, and that feeling wove with history.\n<\/p>\n \nThe way it peeled around my fingers. I remembered gentle press of it against my cheek. We used to watch movies down here. Ma and Pa called them camping trips. They would push the couch back and make a tent of blankets and chairs, and we\u2019d all squeeze in and watch a comedy movie, or a superhero flick. Never a rom com. One time Pa paused the movie for a third time in the first ten minutes to ask some question or make some comment and Ma practically leapt over Liro and me to wrestle the remote from his grip. The tent toppled over us, and by the time Ma had control of the remote the blankets were twisted all about her legs. She tripped while trying to stand up and dad caught her with hooting laugh. Even after the tent came down, we\u2019d\u2014\n<\/p>\n \nMy wrist pane pinged. I flinched in surprise, pulling my hand from the carpet. Warehoming had responded to our claim. An inspector would arrive in two days, with a corporate bottom line on their mind. A shudder threatened at my back, but I suppressed it and nodded to myself, to the empty room, and to the memories that whispered in the walls. We could do this. Caulking next.\n<\/p>\n \n \nLiro pulled the blanket to his chin and sucked a breath through a wince. After a moment he relaxed and the bed of lumped pillows billowed around his head. He gave a weak smile. \u201cAre we ready?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nA million other tasks and chores bloomed to the front of my mind. We\u2019d only had time to bleach the ceiling stains in the two main floors, and not the basement. I was sure that there was a ninth mouse trap that we\u2019d not found still lurking in some corner. If the inspector found that with a mouse on it, we\u2019d lose our certifications for all food stuffs that weren\u2019t canned. There was a section of the upstairs guest room where the floor noticeably dipped that I never found a way to cover without making it obvious.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cAs much as we can be.\u201d I patted his cheek. \u201cWe\u2019ll be alright.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nLiro nodded, his front teeth sticking out beneath his lip. How could he be so damn somber at his age? Industrial shelving units and stacks of boxes towered around us, with only the smallest path to the door, and they made him seem smaller than he was as he hunkered into his pillows. When was the last time he\u2019d ran and shouted with joy? When was the last time he\u2019d engaged with dragons or revolutionaries of his imagination?\n<\/p>\n \nMy brother took a long breath and looked away. \u201cDo you think I could take a tablet of the baclofen? All the work the last couple of days is doing a damn spell on my back. It would help me sleep. Then I could be ready in case the inspector asks me any questions.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI took a breath and grimaced. \u201cI don\u2019t know if that\u2019s a good idea. We don\u2019t know how the inspection will affect our budgets beyond the initial fee to recoup inventory. I just want to be careful.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHis chin trembled. \u201cI won\u2019t be able to sleep, wey.<\/em>\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nMy heart tightened. Everything tightened. The blood in my veins began to roar as the pressure rose.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI know, Liro. I\u2019m trying, okay? Just give me this one day to figure things out.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nLiro scoffed and turned away. I couldn\u2019t blame him. I would not have maintained his positivity if I\u2019d had to manage chronic pain and living in this squalor when I was seven.\n<\/p>\n \nHis shoulders started to curl in fits as his body suppressed sobs. I sighed and rested a hand on his shoulder. I sat with him, and his shoulders eventually stilled, but he did not fall asleep. Maybe he wanted me to believe he did, but the stiffness in his neck, and the flaring of his little jaw muscles betrayed him.\n<\/p>\n \nWhat could I do to make him forgive me? Probably nothing that night. Our situation required hard decisions. I\u2019d hunkered over our bank statements and puzzled ways to stretch our budget, deciding where we would need to cut it short countless times since Ma and Pa had died. I had grown four inches, and yet gained only five pounds. I knew how to make these decisions, and I knew how to protect Liro from the worst of them. This time was different. This time the stakes could take our livelihood as sure as legalized asset forfeiture.\n<\/p>\n \nOn the other side of our bedding corner, Ma\u2019s little vis prototype sat on the sole nightstand. She\u2019d taken a full-size pane and cut it into pieces that couldn\u2019t have been larger than ten-inch squares and stacked them on a custom mount to develop a 3D image. I reached for it. \u201cHey bud,\u201d I said, lifting it to show him. \u201cDo you remember when Ma made this?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nLiro turned, his brow scrunched in a comically intense glare, but it softened when he saw the device. He shook his head. \u201cHave mercy, she must have tried a hundred different ways to cut them. She probably went through a dozen perfectly good panes, cracking them or severing the carbon fibers or whatever. Every time she\u2019d got a new one, she\u2019d run outside to the shop\u2014you remember how the buckles on her boots would jingle when she ran? After a couple hours, the whole neighborhood would hear her frustration. What was is she always said? \u2018Praise and piss!<\/em>\u2019\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWhen she finally got that figured out, she stayed up all night working on the mount. She walked in on us eating breakfast all triumphant, the metallic stink of solder all over her.\u201d I offered it to him with a nudge. A hand snaked out from under his blanket. He twisted it with a puzzled look, and I pointed to the power button. After a moment, it burst to life, an image of a family.\n<\/p>\n \nMa\u2019s layered prototype built a sculpture of light beyond what any single vis pane could display. It featured four figures, a mother and father, and two siblings that could be brothers, in an animation where each would hug the family before shifting to the next wrapping their arms around the others. Three of the four figures were light earthen tones, bright but organic. The bigger sibling was the outlier, and it shone an intense neon pink. \u201cNever did get it quite right,\u201d I said. \u201cSomething was misfiring in that third pane, and she never figured it out.\u201d I chuckled. \u201cHer face was something else though. Seeing it turn on and be so<\/em> close. All she could do was put it down and sit on the floor. After a bit she decided to let us skip school and take us to watch A Crow\u2019s Folly,<\/em> and then to the candy store on Grand Avenue. She let us fill up the full-size bag that day. I got so sick that night.\u201d I chuckled.\n<\/p>\n \nI smiled at Liro as he studied the contraption. \u201cI still think it\u2019s great. If it was perfect, it wouldn\u2019t have those memories, right?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nLiro didn\u2019t answer me. Eventually he offered it back and rolled away again.\n<\/p>\n \nI squeezed his shoulder. \u201cI know you miss them, buddy.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI don\u2019t,\u201d he said. The words rang across the room like a gunshot in a mausoleum.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI don\u2019t bloody <\/em>remember,\u201d he whispered, and my heart seized.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cHow can you\u2014you don\u2019t remember the\u2014I mean, the candy shop?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nLiro shook his head, and his breath came in shudders. Eventually the trembling in his lip faded. \u201cSometimes I dream about them, but when I look at their faces, I just see yours.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI didn\u2019t know what to say to that.\n<\/p>\n \n \nThe bell might as well have shaken the house, but I hesitated before answering. If I left it, would she take the hint? Liro limped up the hall, and it was just us for a moment, in a space that brimmed with our hurt and our sweat, and the forgotten laughter of a once whole family. It was a refuge, even as invaded with industrial shelving and stacked boxes as it was. Those walls were still ours, still made by our lives and our history. The hallway breathed with our tears and our shouts, with the bitterness of nightly medicine and the sweetness of chocolate after dinner. No one could take that away from us but us.\n<\/p>\n \nLiro\u2019s brow pinched at me with unspoken questions. I didn\u2019t have any answers, but there was no use in waiting. I opened the door to find a mountain of a woman looking down the severe line of a long, hooked nose. She pinched her deep-set eyes so tightly that I could barely see them at all behind the shadows. She cleared her throat and lifted her wrist pane. \u201cCallie Hicamp?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI grimaced. \u201cActually, that\u2019s our mom. She was the title holder on the property when I opened the account with Warehoming, but she\u2014I\u2019ve updated it since then. I\u2019m the title holder now. Twon Hicamp.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nShe grunted and tapped at the pane on her wrist. \u201cI\u2019ll need to get that reviewed,\u201d she said, \u201cBut I don\u2019t think that\u2019s any reason to delay the inspection today. Do you know why I\u2019m here?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYeah, we had a flood about a week ago, and lost some inventory.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nShe lifted an eyebrow. \u201cThat\u2019s right. My name is Inspector Tudget. You made a claim on five thousand and eighty-four dollars of inventory and the loss department flagged that as excessive. I\u2019m here to evaluate your facility and its capacity to safely handle and process items that are shipped by Warehoming Inc.\u2019s eCommerce partners. Is that what you were expecting?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI mean, yeah.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cBased on the results of my evaluations, you may lose or gain certifications for different classes of inventory as a freelance storage vendor with Warehoming Supply Services Inc. If you lose any certifications, you will be given ninety business days to bring your facility up to code and reestablish your certification without interruption of inventory delivery. During that time your margins are suspended for higher-class inventory until the codes are met. Is that acceptable?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI shrugged. \u201cAcceptable\u2014wait, do I have a choice?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHer lips pinched so that all the color drained from them. \u201cCan I enter your facility to begin the inspection?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI took a long breath and stepped aside to let her through. She reached into her coat\u2014somehow a brighter summer-sky blue than the summer sky just beyond her shoulders\u2014and pulled out a measuring tape. With movements as precise as Bruce Lee, she extended it, measured the width and length of the doorway, and slammed it back shut. Almost before I registered what she\u2019d even done, she was tapping in notes on her wrist pane. Finally, she stepped in and proceeded briskly down the hall, her light black flats clipping against the hardwood floor with each step. She didn\u2019t remove her coat\u2014in July.\n<\/p>\n \nShe stopped next to Liro. He smiled up at her, and she did not return it. \u201cWho is this?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cMy little brother,\u201d I said, clearing my throat. \u201cHe\u2019s at school on weekdays.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cHmm,\u201d she said, lifting her wrist pane. \u201cWell, run along then, child.\u201d She jabbed new notes and then lifted a thin eyebrow at me. She didn\u2019t say anything. We made our way through the house, room by room. \u201cHow long has this crack been here?\u201d She would ask. \u201cDo these lights always flicker when you turn them on?\u201d I answered every question in as few words as possible. She wasn\u2019t my friend, and she didn\u2019t care what happened to Liro.\n<\/p>\n \nEventually we made our way to the living room. The back of my neck crawled as she followed me in. The shelving had been replaced and the boxes re-stacked in neat lines. The windows were closed, and fresh caulking coated the frames with thick white lines. Of course, the water damage hadn\u2019t been caused by a leak, but we wanted her to think it had been and that we\u2019d addressed it.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThis is where the inventory was lost?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYeah, that\u2019s right,\u201d I said with a grunt.\n<\/p>\n \nShe stepped into the room scrunched her nose as soon as she crossed the threshold. The musk of stagnant water pervaded the room. I\u2019d spent hours drying the carpet and spraying bottles of deodorizers, but Mr. Clean himself couldn\u2019t eliminate that smell with the time and resources we had.\n<\/p>\n \nShe approached the windows and inspected each. \u201cI assume these are the windows that leaked.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI suppressed my trepidation and nodded. \u201cThat\u2019s right.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWell, you\u2019ve cleaned up the caulking very nice. It looks like you\u2019ve patched up this leak very thoroughly.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYes, we did.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nShe nodded at me and began tapping at her wrist pane.\n<\/p>\n \nCould it be so easy? The fee for the inventory was steep, but we could recover from that. I didn\u2019t even begrudge the time I spent cleaning everything else up. Maybe God granted us a gift of mercy for working so hard the past few days. I cleared my throat. \u201cSo, we\u2019re good to go then?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nShe froze, and the sides of her mouth teased upward in a thin smile. \u201cWell, Mr. Hicamp. We\u2019ll need you to install drapes rated for ninety percent blackout.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cInspector Tudget, you\u2019re asking us to block the windows?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cNot asking,\u201d she said, squinting at her wrist pane. \u201cMany perishables are susceptible to bacterium that thrive in sunlight. Drapes that block ninety percent is the fastest way to meet code, but I\u2019d actually recommend boarding the windows when you can. Many of our vendors complain of the drapes getting caught in wheels of dollies.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI rocked back on my heels. The panes out back flickered with the lines that my parents had painted. A beacon of their legacy. The image portrayed was frayed and fractured, but I could practically see Ma and Pa, bent over the panes next to each other, their digipens swirling in a dance choreographed only by love and familiarity. The backyard wasn\u2019t going anywhere, but when would I get time to go out there to relax?\n<\/p>\n \nInspector Tudget bent and touched the carpet. The room looked cleaner than it had in months, smell withstanding. The stacks of boxes lined the walls in perfect order, and the lines were separated by the exact minimum space apart to allow someone to get between them. Even without clear signage that we couldn\u2019t afford, the stacks occupied categories that were easy to identify due to the branding of the boxes and individually packaged goods. The computer parts featured bright colors of rays or energy, and the food products featured images of rising suns, rolling hills, or smiling livestock. She rubbed her fingers together before standing again.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThe carpet will need to go.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nMy stomach churned and silence stretched between us so that only the barks of suburban dogs playing at protection against delivery drivers filled the room. I steeled myself and tilted my head. \u201cWe\u2019d been told previously that carpet was allowed for freelance vendors. That\u2019s why we chose Warehoming over Home Storage and Delivery.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThat is true, of course,\u201d she said. \u201cJust not for vendors that are certified for computer peripherals. Even discharges that are imperceptible to humans can render unrecoverable damage to a number of electronic and computational components. Dollies rolling on carpet can generate enough static electricity to jump through packaging.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThe help line didn\u2019t mention additional requirements when we tenured into class three inventory.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThey don\u2019t mention it in the body of the email; they just send it as an attachment. Warehoming Supply Service Inc. Class Three Vendor Terms and Conditions,<\/em> it\u2019s on page thirty-two.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThirty-two,\u201d I sputtered. \u201cI can take out the carpet, but it\u2019s been in here since the house was built. I don\u2019t know if it will\u2014\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cMr. Hicamp, I don\u2019t actually care if you do or not. I\u2019m just saying if you don\u2019t, you\u2019ll lose your certifications for computer peripherals. You have ninety days to decide. Until then, the margins on those products still in your care will be lowered to class one rates.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThose are the highest payout items we store.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cNot until the carpet is gone, so I\u2019d think long and hard about how much it means to you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThis house and the class three certifications were the only things that carried my parents\u2019 memory. Did this inspector know anything about family? Didn\u2019t she see that we were trying to make something work where Liro could live with signs of our parents\u2019 love? The certs she threatened paid for Liro\u2019s medications every month.\n<\/p>\n \nI cleared my throat. \u201cI am Warehoming\u2019s only class three vendor in this neighborhood. If you revoke our certifications, the only people who would benefit would be HSD.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nShe shrugged. \u201cOur data shows that consumer expectations for delivery timeliness actually diminish with the value of the product. They prefer safety of the product over speed of delivery.\u201d She scuffed her light shoe over the carpet. \u201cSafety,\u201d she repeated.\n<\/p>\n \nI ground my teeth. That carpet was more than just the padding and the threads knotted together. That carpet kept our parents closer to Liro. It kept them closer to both of us. Without a second thought she would tear that from him. How was I supposed to decide between food and a carpet with sentimental value? She must know that her assignments were homes. She must also know that a home was more than the wood and the nails that held it together. She didn\u2019t care.\n<\/p>\n \nI followed her through the rest of the house in a trailing shuffle. \u201cThis outlet cover will need to be replaced,\u201d she said. \u201cYou can\u2019t stack boxes in front of an HVAC intake.\u201d And the finger jabbing. People used their wrist panes silently, but her fingers were gunshots on the screen. Blatatat! Each one blasted away physical embodiments of our family\u2019s human experience. Each one chipped away at what I\u2019d thought was my last hope for the future. A comfortable home with memories of love to raise Liro? Not without corporatism lining every wall. Paying mortgage or utilities on time? Only if deliveries were perfect. Enough money to afford Liro\u2019s medication, to let him wake up without pain? Only as long as I could sustain working from sunrise to sunset and deliveries with after-hour rates in between.\n<\/p>\n \nWe would become automatons without history or hope, if we wanted to afford food or Liro\u2019s medications. We would devolve to sacks of bone and meat that could never pause from their grind to survive by the barest of standards.\n<\/p>\n \nThe doorbell sounded for a delivery pickup. Liro\u2019s voice drifted from the other side of the house. \u201cI got it!\u201d His footsteps thumped in his uneven gait to the door. I tried to catch a whisper of his voice, happy and joking, but the thunderclap jabbing of her fingers on her wrist pane interrupted his muffled conversation with the driver.\n<\/p>\n \nThe door thumped shut and moments later my own wrist pane pinged with a five-star review. \u201cThis shelving isn\u2019t mounted to the wall,\u201d Tudget said, and we continued. I trailed farther behind. She led me to the guest room while my head roared. Pressure grew in my throat. This inspector marched around stealing comfort that Liro\u2019s medication could buy, stealing sleep from his nights, and he was doing what he needed to do. He was five star exceeding expectations.\n<\/p>\n \nThe hitched rhythm of his footsteps approached. He came up behind me and his hand found mine. I turned to him, but I couldn\u2019t speak, not without choking on the sob in my throat. Fresh tears stung at my eyes, and my breathing hissed through my teeth.\n<\/p>\n \nIt wouldn\u2019t work anymore. I couldn\u2019t fix all of this in time. We\u2019d have to go behind on the mortgage. We were already two months behind on the water, and they\u2019d shut us off if we missed another.\n<\/p>\n \nLiro tugged at me. \u201cAre you okay?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI clenched my eyes shut. Damn that tear for slipping down my cheek. The pieces fracturing. I was an untempered pane against the pressure of a wrecking ball, but I just needed a moment. I looked to the inspector. \u201cCan you give us a second?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cOf course,\u201d she said. \u201cYou don\u2019t mind if I continue without you?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI didn\u2019t answer. I just led Liro out of the guest room as she tested the dip with her toe. Liro and I continued around a corner to the kitchen.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cTwon?\u201d Liro\u2019s voice wavered. \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong, cabr\u00f3n<\/em>?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI lifted a hand in the vague direction of the inspector. \u201cShe is exacting,\u201d I hissed. Liro blinked at me, but he did not respond. How could I explain to him that we were going to lose it all? How could I tell him that we weren\u2019t going to be able to afford his medications? That she was going to take everything that Ma and Pa had left us?\n<\/p>\n \nI pointed to the sitting room. \u201cShe\u2019s making us take out the carpet.\u201d The words didn\u2019t make sense. They didn\u2019t answer his question, but they were all I had. They encapsulated everything.\n<\/p>\n \nLiro perked up at that. \u201cOh? That smell makes me so nauseous. That will be nice. I bet we could do that this week, just you and me.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI sputtered at him. \u201cBut Liro, our parents\u2014That carpet\u2014they used to\u2014”\n<\/p>\n \nHe looked at me quizzically.\n<\/p>\n \nI tilted my head. \u201cThe movies?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nLiro squinted. \u201cWhat does our carpet have to do with a movie?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI blinked. He was too young.\n<\/p>\n \nDay in and day out, we scratched and clawed and clambered to make enough to get by. We endured meals of rice and whatever steamed veggies were on sale, and we slept sweating beneath a creaking fan. That was all this house held for him. I\u2019d been saving fragmented echoes of our parents that whispered between the walls, but he couldn\u2019t hear them. The scuff marks from Ma\u2019s boots at the entryway didn\u2019t offer him a warm welcome when he came in through the front door. The light smell of the fabric softener that dad preferred didn\u2019t fill his lungs with joy. I took a long breath to steady myself. \u201cLiro,\u201d I said tentatively, \u201cwhat\u2019s your favorite part of this house?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThe sitting room,\u201d he said, without hesitation.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWhy?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIt holds the most inventory.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI lowered my gaze and let the words settle into the walls around us. And reshape them. The house was hallowed to me, with memories in every fiber of wood and every flake of chipped paint. It was hollow to him, just a tool to survive until we could afford something better.\n<\/p>\n \nWe never would afford better, though. Not like this. Especially after Inspector Tudget revoked our certifications. What use were all the\u2014all my good memories if we made no new ones together?\n<\/p>\n \nI straightened and reached out a hand to Liro. He took it, his little brow furrowed with questions. I offered him a reassuring smile and led him into the final bedroom. Inspector Tudget had made her way through the stacks of inventory, and her head poked out over the shelving in the back corner where Liro and I slept. The jabbing of her pane reached through the spaces between the shelves.\n<\/p>\n \nWhen we came around the last corner, I found her glaring at Ma\u2019s prototype. I cleared my throat and she whipped around to face us, sputtering. \u201cThis absolutely has to go,\u201d she said, pointing to the vis pane sculpture. \u201cIn all my years, I don\u2019t recall ever seeing such a bold fire hazard. Look at all those exposed wires. I\u2019m just flabbergasted.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIt will come with us,\u201d I said.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cNo, no. It cannot stay with you. It must be removed. Today.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI said it\u2019s coming with us, not staying here. Ma\u2019am, please provide papers for our release from Warehoming\u2019s freelance storage vendor program.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nShe stepped back and straightened. \u201cExcuse me?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nI rolled my eyes and turned to Liro. \u201cCan you give Uncle Terry a call? Ask him if he can come down to pick us up.\u201d Liro scampered off.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cDon\u2019t do anything rash now,\u201d the inspector said.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThought you could squeeze some extra profit for a few months and go back to the way things were? Now realizing all the other storage vendors in five miles are months out from tenuring into class three?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cMr. Hicamp, do not rush to conclusions. We can compromise on some of the certification suspensions while you get everything back to code.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nLiro\u2019s voice drifted in from the hallway. \u201cUncle Terry. It\u2019s good to hear from you too. Yeah. Well, I haven\u2019t in a while and really\u2014Actually, sorry. Twon asked me to see if you could come by and pick us up? I think so. Twon just asked me, so I called.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIt\u2019s not about certifications,\u201d I said to Inspector Tudget, picking up Ma\u2019s prototype. \u201cFrom now on I take the memories with me.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cMemories\u2014\u201d She waved away my comment. \u201cMr. Hicamp, we can still have a very productive\u2014\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou can let go of this place now,\u201d I said to her, and her shoulders dropped.\n<\/p>\n \nLiro recited our address to Uncle Terry from outside the room, and a grin crept over my face. Selling the house would provide enough money to afford his medication for years. Uncle Terry gave us an offer once, but I\u2019d misappraised it. We\u2019d have a home with actual furniture, and meals around a table with a family. Our parents had given us so much, but that didn\u2019t mean I needed to hold Liro hostage with those memories.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIt\u2019s fine,\u201d I said, reassuring myself as much as her. \u201cWe can let go too.\u201d\n<\/p>\n Joseph is a father, husband and writer currently living in Lenexa, Kansas. There, he and his wife do their best to raise a son to be kinder than the world around him. By day, he spends time planning and executing social media and other digital marketing campaigns.<\/p>\n He has been a dreamer, reader and writer for most of his life and most of his literary influences can be found on a bookstore’s science fiction and fantasy shelves.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Cousin Marc gave me his best performance of a solemn nod. An exaggerated pout pulled at his jowls to sell the bit. \u201cSo sorry, again. So sorry, Twon\u201d he said. He looked to Liro whom gripped the hem of my pants, but even he couldn\u2019t make up something comforting to say to someone so young. …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":107887,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,14,20100],"tags":[20101],"class_list":["post-140142","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","category-publications","category-tcl-45-autumn-2022","tag-the-colored-lens-45-autumn-2022","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140142","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/107887"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=140142"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140142\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":140144,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140142\/revisions\/140144"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=140142"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=140142"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=140142"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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