That was the last thing I’d expected him to say. I stared at him, and then an unguarded laugh overtook me. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
“Which part?”
I shook my head slightly. “All of it.” I couldn’t get my brain to work right after that conversation with Brandon. And in that moment, I didn’t really want it to. “You’re serious?”
His answer was immediate. “Yeah.”
“Where?”
He smiled.
* * *
I parked my car beside Chase’s, sent a text to Mom that I was hanging out with Jessalyn, got out and looked at the location I’d followed him to.
We’d driven no more than ten miles from Jungle Juice to an area that looked like it might have once been a nice neighborhood but had long since deteriorated due to neglect. The highlights consisted of a strip mall, empty save for a single payday-advance place, and a seemingly abandoned gas station on the corner covered in graffiti. Chase and I were in the parking lot of a six-story tan brick building flanked on either side by empty lots overgrown with weeds so tall they would have reached my waist.
There wasn’t a single person in sight and I hadn’t seen a car drive past since we pulled up. It wasn’t full dark out yet, or I’d have already been back in my car. As it was, I kept my phone in my hand and my car between me and Chase, just in case.
“What is this?”
“This,” he said, “is the Desert Breeze apartment building, and it’s scheduled for demolition in two weeks.” He nodded his chin toward a white sign covered in warnings like Condemned and Do Not Enter in big bold letters and stared at the building like he was seeing a lot more than I was.
“What exactly are we supposed to be doing here?”
“I used to live here a long time ago. It’s empty and they’re blowing it up, so it doesn’t matter, but this was the last place I saw my dad before he took off, and smashing it is the closest I’ll ever get to—” He inhaled through his nose, paused, then looked at me. “I figured you might need to break something too.” Then he sighed. “I didn’t really think this through. I don’t have anything to use to even break a window.”
I let my gaze drift back to the building, taking in the caution tape and the boarded-up windows. I slipped my phone back into my pocket, then headed to the trunk of my car. I popped it open and pulled out a wooden baseball bat.
Chase watched me the whole time, not smiling exactly, but something close to it. “You keep a bat in your trunk?”
“I keep multiple bats in my trunk.” I offered him the wooden bat. “This one’s for you.” Then I pulled out another. “So which window looks good?”
Getting in didn’t turn out to be a problem. There was a garden-level unit with large—for me and possibly somewhat tight for Chase—windows that were no match for my bat. At that first tinkling sound of breaking glass, I felt shockingly alive, and even more shockingly detached from anything having to do with my family.
After kicking out the remaining shards, Chase slipped through the broken window first. As I’d guessed, it was a tight fit around his shoulders, and he did get cut a little on one arm, but when he looked back at me, I followed him without hesitating. I didn’t get sliced—unlike him, I wasn’t built like a superhero—but the feel of Chase’s hands on either side of my waist helping me down was unexpectedly jarring on the bare skin below my slightly bunched up shirt. His hands didn’t linger, though, and neither did my sudden awareness of him.
There was no power, which meant no lights, so we used our phones to see. The glass crunched under our feet as we crossed the dark room and entered the hall. Chase led us up four flights of stairs and down another hall until we stood in front of a door that no longer had a number on it.
“This was yours.” I wasn’t asking a question, just saying something to break him out of his stare.
“Yeah.” He reached for the doorknob, but it didn’t turn.
“Good thing we don’t need a key, huh?” I tapped the door with my bat, reminding Chase of the one he held in his hand.
“Yeah,” he said again, still staring at the door.
He’d said he hadn’t planned this out, and I was beginning to wonder if he was having second thoughts. If not about demoing his old apartment, then at least about inviting a perfect stranger to do it with him.
“I’m going to try one farther down,” I said, already moving.
“No, sorry. I was just caught up for a second.” Chase shook his head, then smiled. “My mom is a photographer, so she took a lot of photos.” He tapped the doorknob with a finger. “I was only like a year old when my mom and I left, so I know it’s just from seeing pictures, but it’s weird.”
“There are tons of other apartments. It’s really fine if you want this one to yourself.”
“I’m up for the company if you are.”
He said it with such easy sincerity that I had to believe him. And if I was being honest, I wasn’t sure I’d actually follow through with breaking anything on my own. I knew the place was getting blown up and there was nothing of value left behind, but it still felt a little off to just start smashing walls. Chase’s childhood claim to his apartment made it easier—allowable, somehow.
“Okay.” We stood for another second facing his door. “I guess we just...?” I pressed against the door with my palm, trying to get a read on how secure it was. “Why don’t you...” I turned but Chase was already stepping back, having reached the same conclusion. “Yeah, go for it.”
He kicked hard. I heard wood crack from the force, but the door held.
“Let’s do it together, ready?” I stood closer to the door than Chase needed to, but we timed it right, landing a double kick that knocked the already injured door clean off its hinges. We both laughed, though mine was partially to cover how much that kick had hurt. I was wearing flip-flops, and I wasn’t built like a Terminator. Chase seemed fine as he walked over the door.
I gave him a few minutes to look around and deal with any more memories on his own and took the opportunity to rub my knee until it stopped throbbing. I wasn’t going to be doing that again anytime soon.
“Dana?”
“I’m here,” I said, walking into the mostly empty room. I didn’t know why I’d expected it to be furnished. Obviously it wouldn’t be. And the few things left in the apartment wouldn’t have belonged to Chase anyway. There could have been a dozen tenants since he’d lived here. There was a moldy-looking love seat, a small table and a couple boxes that had seen their fair share of water damage. I looked at the ceiling and saw water spots and even a large brownish-yellow section that had broken through. That explained the smell.
I tried to envision the space clean and with a family, but my imagination wouldn’t stretch that far. I wondered if Chase’s memories were serving him any better.
“Does it feel familiar?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. That was my room.” He pointed with his bat. “It’s so small.”
“You must have been then too.”
His mouth lifted. “I’m glad I don’t really remember living here. And I’ll be gladder still when it’s a pile of rocks.”
That answered my next question, whether he still wanted to do this. We set down our phones in the center of the room and took up positions in front of the largest wall. I lifted my bat and Chase did the same.
His bat punched right through the drywall like it was cardboard. “Come on,” he said, freeing the bat.
The