IMarried a Single Mom with Two Daughters – A Week Later, the Girls Invited Me to Visit Their Dad in the Basement
It seems as though everything is going according to plan when Jeff gets married to Claire, a single mother who has two adorable girls. However, there are some strange murmurs concerning the basement. As a result of the girls’ naive request for him to “visit Dad,” Jeff unearths an astonishing family secret.
We felt as though we were entering a memory that had been meticulously kept when we moved into Claire’s house after we had been married. In addition to the lingering aroma of vanilla candles, the wooden flooring creaked with the weight of history that had been accumulated over the years.
While the hum of life filled every nook and cranny, sunlight illuminated the walls via lace curtains, creating designs that were scattered throughout the walls. At the same time as Claire gave a sense of serenity that I hadn’t realised I’d been looking for, the girls, Emma and Lily, zipped around like hummingbirds, their laughter a continual song.
It was the kind of house that you would want to utilise as your residence. On the other hand, there was only one issue: the basement.
It was painted the same eggshell white as the walls, and it stood at the end of the corridor opposite the entrance. Just a door, it was not particularly menacing in any way. Nevertheless, there was something about it that drew my interest.
The way in which the females whispered and glanced at it when they thought no one was looking could have been the cause of the problem. Or the way that whenever they spotted me observing them, their giggles became slightly more subdued.
However, despite the fact that it was evident to me, Claire did not appear to notice… or perhaps she feigned that she did not notice.
“Jeff, can you grab the plates?” The voice of Claire brought me back to the present moment. The dish that Emma and Lily enjoyed the most for dinner was macaroni and cheese.
When I entered the kitchen, Emma, who was only eight years old but already displaying symptoms of her mother’s drive, followed me in and observed me with an unsettling level of concentration. There was a hint of inquiry in her brown eyes, which were quite similar to Claire’s.
Instantaneously, she enquired, “Do you ever find yourself wondering what’s in the basement?”
I came very close to dropping the plates.
“What’s that?” Trying to maintain my composure, I enquired.
“The basement,” she snapped angrily. “Don’t you wonder what’s down there?”
Where is the washing machine? You have some old furniture and several boxes? Despite my best efforts, my laugh was not very strong. “Or is it possible that there are monsters in that area? Or the treasure?”
The only thing that Emma did was grin and then return to the dining room.
While sitting in the dining room, Lily, who was only six years old but was more naughty than her age, burst out laughing.
When Lily dropped her spoon the following morning, I was in the process of preparing breakfast for the girls. The pupils in her eyes widened, and she jumped up from her chair to go and get it.
The words “Daddy despises loud noises” were spoken by her in a sing-song.
I became numb.
There was very little that Claire had ever mentioned about Lily and Emma’s father. At one point in time, they were blessed with a happy marriage, but now he was “gone.” I had not pushed her to clarify whether he had passed away or was simply living out his life somewhere else, and she had never addressed the question.
When I started to think about it, I realised that perhaps I ought to have pushed that she tell me what had happened to him.
After a few days had passed, Lily was colouring at the table designated for breakfast. Her concentration was unwavering, despite the fact that the crayons and pencils in the box were a jumbled rainbow that was spread out on the table. To get a better look at what she was working on, I leaned over.
“Is that us?” My question was directed at the stick figures that she had sketched.
Without looking up, Lily gave a slight nod. “That’s actually Emma and I. That’s my mother.” It is you, by the way.” Before selecting another crayon to use for the final figure, she picked up one of the crayons and considered the shade it was.
“And who’s that?” With a gesture towards the final figure that was standing slightly apart, I enquired.
In a straightforward manner, she stated, “That’s Daddy,” as if it were the most apparent thing in the entire world.
My heart skipped a beat. Before I could ask any further questions, Lily drew a square in grey around the figure with her pencil.
“And what’s that?” I enquired about it.
She stated, “It’s our basement,” the tone of her voice remaining as unflappable as it had been.
Then, with the unwavering assurance of a child of six years old, she jumped off her chair and skipped away, leaving me to fix my gaze on the artwork.
A gnawing sensation of curiosity had developed by the time the week came to a close. I made the decision to bring it up that evening as Claire and I were sitting on the couch on the couch with glasses of wine.
Then I began, “Claire,” with great care. “Can I ask you something about… the basement?”
In a moment of silence, she held her wine glass in the air. “The basement?”
“All I can say is that the girls keep bringing it up. Lily, on the other hand, sketched this artwork using — well, this is irrelevant. It’s possible that I’m just inquisitive.
The tiny line of her lips was squeezed together. Dear Jeff, there is absolutely no cause for concern. Simply put, it is a basement. Exhausted, wet, and most likely teeming with spiders. Believe me when I say that you do not want to go down there.
Her eyes betrayed her, despite the fact that her voice was solid. The subject was not only being ignored; rather, she was attempting to bury it.
“And their dad?” I exerted soft pressure. “Sometimes they talk about him like he’s still… living here.”
Before putting her glass down, Claire let out a sigh. Over two years ago, he passed away. It was a sudden illness that struck. Those girls were in utter disbelief. Despite my best efforts to shield them from harm, children go through the grieving process in their own unique ways.
Her tone was wavering, and there was a hint of reluctance that lingered densely in the atmosphere. While I refrained from going any further, the unease continued to cling to me like a shadow.
The following week was when everything reached its climax.
Both of the girls were unwell with the sniffles and low fevers, and Claire was at work. Both of the girls were at home. When Emma entered the room, she had an expression that was particularly solemn. I had been juggling juice boxes, crackers, and episodes of their favourite program at the time.
When she asked me, “Do you want to visit Daddy?” her voice was steady in a way that caused my chest to clench at the same time.
I became numb. “What do you mean?”
She was surprised to see Lily standing behind her, holding a plush bunny.
She said it in a manner that was as casual as if she were discussing the weather. “Mommy keeps him in the basement,” she said.
The pit of my stomach sank. “Girls, that’s not funny.”
“It’s not a joke,” Emma announced with a serious tone. “The boy’s father lives in the basement. You are able to see it.”
They were the ones I followed, despite every sensible instinct I had.
As we made our way down the creaky wooden steps, the temperature of the air began to drop, and the dim bulb threw shadows that were strange and flickering. My nostrils were filled with the musty odour of mildew, and the walls provided an unpleasant sense of closeness.
I paused on the lowest step and gazed into the darkness, searching for anything that may provide an explanation for why the kids believed that their father was living in this area.
“Over here,” Emma replied as she took my hand and led me to a little table that was located in the corner of the room.
A few wilted flowers, as well as an assortment of colourful drawings and toys, were used to decorate the table. An plain and uncomplicated urn was placed in the middle of it. It caused my heart to skip a beat.
“See, here’s Daddy.” I was greeted with a warm smile from Emma as she pointed to the urn.
“Hi, Daddy!” With a chirp, Lily affectionately patted the urn as if it were a pet. Then, she shifted her gaze to look at me. “We visit him down here so he doesn’t feel lonely.”
Emma gently placed her hand on my arm and spoke in a low voice. “Do you think he misses us?”
I was brought to my knees by the weight of their innocence, which caused my throat to close again. I drew them both into a heartfelt embrace.
It’s your father” My voice was soft and I said, “He can’t miss you because he’s always with you.” In your hearts, I say. With regard to your recollections. You have created a wonderful environment for him to be in here.
At the time that Claire arrived home that evening, I shared everything with her. Her eyes welled up with tears as she listened, and her face became contorted.
She confessed, “I didn’t know,” while her voice was shaking somewhat. I had the idea that putting him down there would provide us with the opportunity to go on. Oh my God, I had no idea that they were there. My wretched young ladies”
“There is nothing wrong with you. I softly approached them and said, “They just… they still need to feel close to him.” “In their way.”
As we sat there in quiet, the burden of the past was weighing down on us. After a moment, Claire straightened her back and wiped her eyes.
“We’ll move him,” she stated on the matter. “There is a better place. Through this method, Emma and Lily will be able to express their sorrow without having to descend into the musty cellar.
We moved the table in the living room to a different location the following day. Among the photographs of the family, the urn was placed, and it was encircled by the drawings of the girls.
After that, Claire gathered Emma and Lily together to provide an explanation.
In a low voice, she informed them that “your dad is not in that urn.” Not in the least. In the tales we tell and the affection we give to one another, he is present. In this way, we are able to keep him close.
A sombre nod was given by Emma, while Lily clung to her pet rabbit to her chest.
“Are we still able to say hello to him?” she enquired.
“Of course,” Claire responded, her voice cracking slightly as she spoke the word. Furthermore, you are still able to draw pictures for him. Because of this, we have taken his urn up here and created a unique space for it.
And Lily grinned. “You are so kind, Mommy. I have a feeling that Daddy will be more content up here with us.
On that particular Sunday, we initiated a new custom. Together, we sat down and lighted a candle by the urn as the sun began to set before us. Claire told anecdotes about their father, including his laugh, his passion for music, and the way he used to dance with them in the kitchen. The girls shared their drawings and memories with one other.
As I saw them, I was overcome with a profound sensation of appreciation. It dawned on me that I was not present to take his place. This family was already held together by love, and it was my responsibility to add to that love.
