The wallpaper was an old woman’s choice, bouquets of roses tied in pink ribbons. The floral carpeting on the stairs had faded to pale blooms. Clearly, this part of the house hadn’t been touched since Jon’s parents died. I had a brief image of Jon as a boy, towheaded and energetic, running up these stairs ahead of me, his green eyes snapping a challenge: catch me if you can! All of the bedroom doors were open but one, and nobody had bothered to make a bed. Untamed plants hung in the windows, some with dead brown tendrils mixed among the green. Several of the bedrooms had clothes scattered over the pine floors, arms and legs spiraled outward. Two of the bedrooms were further crowded by bicycles standing like horses in dim stalls. The upstairs bathroom was painted a garish purple; it had a claw-foot tub with a clear shower curtain gone green with mold around the edges. I knocked on the only closed bedroom door. “Hey. Can I come in?” Cam didn’t answer. “Open up! Come on, Cam.
