Time Stood Still
Jasmine stood in the entryway of the house, her heart heavy in her chest. It had been years since she had last seen the man she calls father. Seven years since she walked out of this house, determined to escape the suffocating grip of the past.
And yet, here she was again. Standing in the threshold of a life she thought she had left behind. The memory of trauma surged inside of her like a tsunami.
Her father’s house was nothing like the lavish world she had gotten used to. The paint on the wall was peeling, the carpet was stained black in the walk path, and the windows were broken. It was hard to imagine how anyone could live like this, but here he was.
The man who had once promised her a better life was now living in a state of neglect and poverty. His entire life seemed to have unraveled in the years since she had last seen him. As much as she hated to admit it, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt.
The distance between them had been her choice. She had turned her back on him, not understanding the full weight of the choices he had made. It wasn’t like he had tried to reach out and make amends for the way her life had turned out.
“Father, I’m home.”, she repeated.
The sound echoed in the silence of the house. It was an ominous reminder of the broken bond between them. She wasn’t even sure how they had drifted apart because he was a loving and doting father… until her mother passed away.
After a few moments, the floor creaked and a frail figure stood in the hallway. His face was gaunt, his skin pale and sickly, and his hair thin and graying. The years had not been kind to him. The man she had once known to be strong and confident was now nothing more than a shadow of his former self.
"Jasmine?", he asked. His voice hoarse, surprised but soft. “You’re home.”
She didn’t respond immediately, her emotions too tangled in her chest. She just stared at him, taking in the man standing before her. Her mind wondering how he had become this way.
He looked so different, so broken. Like a man who had lost everything because he had. She was all he had and when she left, he must have stopped living.
She could see the signs of poor health all over him. The way his hands trembled as he reached for her. The way his shoulders slumped, as if the weight of the years had finally caught up with him.
“Come inside.”, he said quietly. Motioning for her to come closer while stepping back to let her through.
Jasmine hesitated before she walked past him. Cautious to enter the house and be pulled back into a life of pain and misery. The further inside she went, the more she was disturbed by his unkept lifestyle.
It was worse than she had expected. The whole house was dark, musty, and neglected. The furniture was the same from her childhood but looked more weathered. The floors creaked beneath her feet. It was a far cry from the polished, pristine home her mother worked hard to maintain.
She ran her hands over the tables, pulling back a finger of dust. Pausing to stare at the photos, the same arrangement her mother put together before she died. Everything was preserved in a thick layer of dust.
There was a certain stillness in the air, like time had stopped here. Her father hadn’t moved on, hadn’t even tried to fix the mess he had created. It was as if he had given up on everything. Given up on life.
He gestured to the couch, but she refused to sit. Anxiety rising within her as she contemplated how to ask for answers. Her father slowly lowered himself into a chair across the room, exhaling deeply as he looked at her.
His eyes were tired, and there was a sadness in them that made her heart ache.
“It’s late. Why don’t we get some rest, and we can catch up tomorrow?”, he asked. His voice weak.
“I’m not tired and I didn’t come to stay. We need to talk.”, she answered.
“I… I never thought you would come back, Jasmine.”, he began. His voice cracking.
“Me either.”, Jasmine said. Her voice sharp, her anger bubbling to the surface.
Her father winced at her words, his eyes welling up with emotion. He opened his mouth to speak and no sound came out. He was unsure of how to respond. The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken tension.
“Do you know why I’m here?”, Jasmine asked. Her voice steady now, though the anger still simmered beneath the surface.
“I have an assumption.”, he replied.
“I’m here because of Benjamin. I know the truth, and I need you to tell me what happened. Why did you sell him?”, her tone revealing her anger.
Her father flinched at the word sell, his face contorting with guilt. He rubbed his hands together nervously. His gaze dropping to the floor, “I should have known he would tell you.”
“Did you tell Elijah to keep this from me?”, she asked.
“Elijah? I don’t know an Elijah.”, he said. His tone full of confusion.
“Then who would have told me?”, she demanded an answer.
“Benjamin came to see me a few months ago. Isn’t he the one who told you?”, he asked.
“No. I haven’t seen Benjamin in weeks and his number has been disconnected.”, her tone now full of worry.
“I see. Okay. I will tell you everything you want to know, but first…”, he paused to cough, “Go to your room and grab the box from the back of the closet. It will help explain things.”
She hesitated, but did as her father asked.
Jasmine’s steps echoed in the quiet house as she made her way up the stairs. The old wooden floor creaked under her feet. It was as if the house itself had aged and grown distant from her.
A thick layer of dust clung to every surface. The once vibrant walls were now muted, their colors faded and washed out. Time had passed, but the house had stood still, as though it were locked in a memory of her childhood.
She paused at the top of the stairs, taking a deep breath. The familiar scent of old wood and musty air filled her nostrils, reminding her of days spent running through these hallways, but that was another life. A life she could never return to.
Jasmine walked slowly down the hall, each step carrying her closer to the place she’d feared the most… her parents’ bedroom. She had hoped the room would have changed, that the time she spent away would have erased the painful memories.
But nothing had changed.
She hesitated for a moment before reaching for the handle, her fingers brushing the cool metal. The door creaked as it swung open, revealing the room that had once been a sanctuary for her parents. Now, it felt hollow, abandoned.
Her father’s absence was palpable. His absence more pronounced than ever in the silence of the room. She could still see her mother’s presence in the faded photographs on the walls and in the soft floral scent that still lingered in the air. But it was all just a ghost of a life taken too soon.
Her father’s side of the bed was untouched. The covers neatly pulled back as if he had never slept there at all. It was as if he had left and never looked back.
A wave of grief washed over her as she thought of her mother. Jasmine’s throat tightened, and for a moment, it felt like the walls were closing in around her. She had never really gotten over the loss, and even after all these years, the pain was still fresh.
Her mother’s absence had left a void in her heart that nothing could fill. Jasmine’s vision blurred, and a tear slipped down her cheek. But she quickly wiped it away, shaking her head as if to banish the emotion. She couldn’t afford to lose herself in grief now.
With a final glance at the room, Jasmine stepped back and closed the door gently behind her. She had to get out of here, away from the memories that threatened to overwhelm her. She turned and walked down the hall to her old bedroom.
The room that had once been a sanctuary of her own. It was strange, how she still felt an odd connection to it. The door to her room was ajar, and she pushed it open slowly.
The sight that greeted her was almost surreal. The furniture was all in place, the same mismatched bedspread she’d had as a teenager still draped over the bed. The shelves were cluttered with old books and trinkets she had forgotten about. It was as if she had never left, as if she could step right back into her old life with a single breath.
For a moment, Jasmine simply stood there, her heart heavy with nostalgia. Her fingers brushed over the surface of her old desk, tracing the lines of the wood. She picked up a small figurine, one she’d made herself when she was a child, and smiled softly.
Memories flooded in, one after another. She could almost hear her mother’s voice calling her for dinner, could see her father sitting at the kitchen table with a newspaper in hand. It all felt so real, so close, and yet so far away.
She shook her head, trying to refocus. Her father had asked her to find a box, something he needed her to bring down to help him explain. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she knew it was important.
She began searching through her closet, her hands moving automatically as she sifted through old boxes. Time slipped away as she lost herself in the familiar surroundings. The past tugging at her in ways she hadn’t expected.
She picked up a photo album that had been tucked in the back of her closet. The cover worn and tattered and looked through it slowly. Letting the memories wash over her.
She lost track of time. An hour passed before she finally gave up the search, realizing she hadn’t found the box her father had mentioned. She sighed in frustration, but as she walked back down the stairs, she felt a sense of peace settle over her.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Jasmine stopped.
Her father was asleep in his chair. The worn fabric of his favorite armchair molded to his form. It must have been the place he had been sleeping.
He looked older than she remembered, his face creased with age, but there was a peacefulness to his sleep. She stood there for a moment, watching him, the weight of the years between them hanging in the air. He had never been the type to show much emotion, but he had always been there in his own way.
Jasmine took a deep breath and walked over to him, gently draping a blanket over his shoulders to keep him warm. She cleared a small spot on the couch to lay down, her head resting on the cushion.
The house was quiet again, the only sound was the wind creeping in through the cracks in the windows. As she closed her eyes, she felt a sense of comfort. A fleeting connection to the life she had left behind.