Will the Last Sim to Leave Town Please Shut Off The Sign?
Posted: 15 Mar 2014, 13:42
It started when Brandon and Carol died. He went first; poor old guy, froze to death in front of the snow park cabin, watching for his beloved birds. Megan found him Saturday morning when she showed up for skating practice. Very sad, really.
Then Carol had a heart attack and died in her own living room. Hazel found her, and she told me later that her first thought was, “Damn! Now she’ll never finish that quilt. She’s been working on it forever.”
Everyone was all broken up about it. I remember when Brandon and Carol first moved into the neighborhood, and their place was the place to be. Dance parties and pool parties and just hanging around, talking. It was a lot of fun.
But then the two of them were offered early retirement, he from the science lab and she from the real estate agency, and once they had nothing to do all day, they just . . . got old quickly. I didn’t think they were that old; forties, maybe. Turns out he was fifty-eight, and she was sixty-one. Wow. Time flies, I guess. I mean, it seems like just the other day our Brad was playing in the kiddie pool with the Powell children and Kristy Baker, and now look at them all. All grown up. Just like that.
Once the kids were grown up, we didn’t get together as often as we used to. I mean, there were still the neighborhood plant-a-thons at Emily’s house, which is now Emily and Todd’s house, and Paul and I still saw the guys at the fire house, but it felt like we were all growing apart. It was only a matter of time, really.
Then the science lab announced they were moving out of state. So the Powells and the Tonkins and the Nelsons all had to move. Warren sold the B and B to some out-of-towner who tore the whole thing down. That was the Vogels’ house before Warren bought it and renovated it, and it broke all of our hearts to see it go.
Speaking of the Vogels, there was a minor scandal a few months later when Lucy Vogel and Matthew Lay ran off together to be on some singing competition show in California. They got as far as the bus station before Trevor and Gil tracked them down and dragged them both back home. Next thing you know, the Lays moved to Indiana, and the Vogels moved to Seattle. Tom told me he was glad to be out of that huge house. Too many rooms to get lost in--and the pool never got cleaned properly.
Well, they loved Seattle, so much that Renee found a house for her brother’s family to live in, and just like that, the Browns were gone, too. Kristy was really sad to see them go; she and little Jessica had gotten to be friends, and now that Jess was in Kristy’s class, they were closer than ever. Now that was gone.
The mass exodus didn’t end there. Todd Powell decided he wanted to be near his parents and his sister, and he and Emily packed up and left. We kept the community garden going for a while, but it just wasn’t the same.
The Taylors and the Sanderses left shortly after that. I have to confess: I never really liked Linda. Sean was an okay guy, but I never really warmed to her. Their little girl was a cutie, though.
Nick Taylor was one of us. We had a big goodbye party for him at the firehouse. There was a lot of crying and hugging. It was all very sad, but happy at the same time, because Rosie was going to open her own preschool in another town, Calvin, which was two states away. Too far to commute. We wished them all well, and they were gone.
So now the only ones left were us, the Bakers, and Brad and Kristy. And then Megan was promoted to director of the art gallery in Portland, Oregon. At least it wasn’t too far from Seattle.
“Everyone’s moving away,” I said to Brad not long afterwards. “It’s just us now. This neighborhood was so full of life, and now . . .” I looked out at the brown lawns, the slimy green pools, the dilapidated houses all around us. “At least you’re still here.”
“Um, that’s the thing, Pop.” He looked down at the ground, an old habit from his preteen years whenever he had to confess to something he had done. “Kristy’s been offered a position in Portland. I know it’s a long way away, but with the baby coming, she wants to be close to her mom, and--“
“I understand. But your father and I want you close, too.”
“Maybe we can find a house for you in Portland. Then we can all be together again.”
“That would be nice.”
Todd and Warren and Ben Baker came back to help them move, though Paul and I insisted we could handle it just fine. It sure was great to see them again, though.
We traded phone numbers and promised to stay in touch, and then they drove away, my baby and his little girl. For a moment, I saw two toddlers standing there, cuddling each other in that way that was always so cute, and then I realized that they were adults now.
And oh, how it hurt to lose them.
And for almost a month, Paul and I sat in that big empty house, surrounded by other big empty houses, and did nothing but look through old photo albums. There was no point in going to work; the workplaces were all closed down, even the fire station. No one left to call the fire department.
“So this is it,” I said.
“Yep.” Paul sat down at the chess board, picked up a piece, and then put it down again.
“We’re the last ones left.”
“We were the first ones, remember?”
I remembered, all right. It was love at first sight, when we met on the sidewalk outside our houses. Paul’s dog had dropped his Frisbee on my lawn, and I was just coming to return it. Our eyes met, and . . . that was it.
The funny thing was that I hadn’t known I was gay until I moved here. Until I met Paul. Once I did, I couldn’t imagine ever having looked at a woman, much less wanted her.
The call we had been waiting for finally came the next day. Kristy’s friend at the Portland real estate office had found us a house, and it wasn’t too far from the kids.
We reluctantly packed up all our possessions, all our memories.
“When I moved in here,” Paul said, “I sold everything I had. Even that enormous TV I had, remember?”
“I tried to tell you that you didn’t need to do that. We could have found room for both your stuff and mine.”
“The new house will have room for all the stuff we want.”
“Yep. Three bedrooms--plenty of room for visiting friends.”
“Or grandchildren.”
He smiled at me, and I smiled back. Things were going to be okay now.
“Come here, boy!” Paul waved Perry’s favorite squeaky bone. He came running from around the corner of the house and jumped right into the car.
We paused to take one last look back.
“So that’s it, then,” I said. “The end of everything.”
“It’s not the end,” he told me. “It’s a new beginning.”
And even though there was no point now, when we left the house for the last time, I turned off all the lights, and locked the door behind us.
But that damn sign on the hill kept flashing and blinking away. There was nothing we could do about it.
Maybe the next people will.
Goodbye and good luck to everyone leaving the game! We'll miss you.
Then Carol had a heart attack and died in her own living room. Hazel found her, and she told me later that her first thought was, “Damn! Now she’ll never finish that quilt. She’s been working on it forever.”
Everyone was all broken up about it. I remember when Brandon and Carol first moved into the neighborhood, and their place was the place to be. Dance parties and pool parties and just hanging around, talking. It was a lot of fun.
But then the two of them were offered early retirement, he from the science lab and she from the real estate agency, and once they had nothing to do all day, they just . . . got old quickly. I didn’t think they were that old; forties, maybe. Turns out he was fifty-eight, and she was sixty-one. Wow. Time flies, I guess. I mean, it seems like just the other day our Brad was playing in the kiddie pool with the Powell children and Kristy Baker, and now look at them all. All grown up. Just like that.
Once the kids were grown up, we didn’t get together as often as we used to. I mean, there were still the neighborhood plant-a-thons at Emily’s house, which is now Emily and Todd’s house, and Paul and I still saw the guys at the fire house, but it felt like we were all growing apart. It was only a matter of time, really.
Then the science lab announced they were moving out of state. So the Powells and the Tonkins and the Nelsons all had to move. Warren sold the B and B to some out-of-towner who tore the whole thing down. That was the Vogels’ house before Warren bought it and renovated it, and it broke all of our hearts to see it go.
Speaking of the Vogels, there was a minor scandal a few months later when Lucy Vogel and Matthew Lay ran off together to be on some singing competition show in California. They got as far as the bus station before Trevor and Gil tracked them down and dragged them both back home. Next thing you know, the Lays moved to Indiana, and the Vogels moved to Seattle. Tom told me he was glad to be out of that huge house. Too many rooms to get lost in--and the pool never got cleaned properly.
Well, they loved Seattle, so much that Renee found a house for her brother’s family to live in, and just like that, the Browns were gone, too. Kristy was really sad to see them go; she and little Jessica had gotten to be friends, and now that Jess was in Kristy’s class, they were closer than ever. Now that was gone.
The mass exodus didn’t end there. Todd Powell decided he wanted to be near his parents and his sister, and he and Emily packed up and left. We kept the community garden going for a while, but it just wasn’t the same.
The Taylors and the Sanderses left shortly after that. I have to confess: I never really liked Linda. Sean was an okay guy, but I never really warmed to her. Their little girl was a cutie, though.
Nick Taylor was one of us. We had a big goodbye party for him at the firehouse. There was a lot of crying and hugging. It was all very sad, but happy at the same time, because Rosie was going to open her own preschool in another town, Calvin, which was two states away. Too far to commute. We wished them all well, and they were gone.
So now the only ones left were us, the Bakers, and Brad and Kristy. And then Megan was promoted to director of the art gallery in Portland, Oregon. At least it wasn’t too far from Seattle.
“Everyone’s moving away,” I said to Brad not long afterwards. “It’s just us now. This neighborhood was so full of life, and now . . .” I looked out at the brown lawns, the slimy green pools, the dilapidated houses all around us. “At least you’re still here.”
“Um, that’s the thing, Pop.” He looked down at the ground, an old habit from his preteen years whenever he had to confess to something he had done. “Kristy’s been offered a position in Portland. I know it’s a long way away, but with the baby coming, she wants to be close to her mom, and--“
“I understand. But your father and I want you close, too.”
“Maybe we can find a house for you in Portland. Then we can all be together again.”
“That would be nice.”
Todd and Warren and Ben Baker came back to help them move, though Paul and I insisted we could handle it just fine. It sure was great to see them again, though.
We traded phone numbers and promised to stay in touch, and then they drove away, my baby and his little girl. For a moment, I saw two toddlers standing there, cuddling each other in that way that was always so cute, and then I realized that they were adults now.
And oh, how it hurt to lose them.
And for almost a month, Paul and I sat in that big empty house, surrounded by other big empty houses, and did nothing but look through old photo albums. There was no point in going to work; the workplaces were all closed down, even the fire station. No one left to call the fire department.
“So this is it,” I said.
“Yep.” Paul sat down at the chess board, picked up a piece, and then put it down again.
“We’re the last ones left.”
“We were the first ones, remember?”
I remembered, all right. It was love at first sight, when we met on the sidewalk outside our houses. Paul’s dog had dropped his Frisbee on my lawn, and I was just coming to return it. Our eyes met, and . . . that was it.
The funny thing was that I hadn’t known I was gay until I moved here. Until I met Paul. Once I did, I couldn’t imagine ever having looked at a woman, much less wanted her.
The call we had been waiting for finally came the next day. Kristy’s friend at the Portland real estate office had found us a house, and it wasn’t too far from the kids.
We reluctantly packed up all our possessions, all our memories.
“When I moved in here,” Paul said, “I sold everything I had. Even that enormous TV I had, remember?”
“I tried to tell you that you didn’t need to do that. We could have found room for both your stuff and mine.”
“The new house will have room for all the stuff we want.”
“Yep. Three bedrooms--plenty of room for visiting friends.”
“Or grandchildren.”
He smiled at me, and I smiled back. Things were going to be okay now.
“Come here, boy!” Paul waved Perry’s favorite squeaky bone. He came running from around the corner of the house and jumped right into the car.
We paused to take one last look back.
“So that’s it, then,” I said. “The end of everything.”
“It’s not the end,” he told me. “It’s a new beginning.”
And even though there was no point now, when we left the house for the last time, I turned off all the lights, and locked the door behind us.
But that damn sign on the hill kept flashing and blinking away. There was nothing we could do about it.
Maybe the next people will.
Goodbye and good luck to everyone leaving the game! We'll miss you.