The tour leader scans the tickets from dad’s phone and gestures for us to head down the stairs and wait at the bottom. As we do, the brightly lit area soon darkens until you can hardly see a hand in front of your face apart from the dim yellow lights installed every few feet or so on the walls. I haven’t done this tour since my seventh grade field trip but the instant that smell hits my nose, I can’t forget it. It’s hard to describe and uniquely foul. Damp, rotten soil? If you can call it that. Really, it smells more like sewage than anything.
I look over to see Nico’s nose wrinkle in displeasure. For some reason, that sour look brings a smile to my face.
“You’re not enjoying the aroma of old Seattle, Mr. Twenties?” I tease.
He rolls his eyes, turning to face me.
“Will you stop fucking calling me that?”
I shrug like I’m helpless. “Afraid not. It’s too perfect for you, it just might be the winner.”
Nico sighs, shaking his head as he falls back into conversation with my dad. My mom laughs by my side, looping her arm through mine.
“You two fight like siblings I swear. He’s like the brother you never had.”
My look of disgust comes too naturally, I can’t even hide it. Brother? If my mom knew the things we have done together, then she would know using the term brother should be illegal. If we were related and we did everything we have, we’d be locked up for sure.
“Mom, gross,” I say with a wrinkle of my nose.
“What? I mean, if him and Carly ever get married he will be your brother in law, so it’s practically the same thing.”
My stomach turns at that.
“They are not going to get married,” I say, almost defensively.
Mom shrugs. “Carly was talking about how it’s the next step for them just yesterday.
“Yeah?” I laugh. “Does the groom know of her plans just yet, I can guarantee he’s in the dark on this.”
My mom gives me an odd look at that and I instantly realize I need to shut the fuck up. Attempting to play it off, I give her a shake of my head and a sigh before the tour guide thankfully comes down the stairs.
“Welcome to what used to be the main street of Seattle! Settlers first came to Seattle in 1851…”
His voice grows quieter as he moves deeper and deeper into the tunnel. About thirty of us are down here and slowly, everyone begins moving along with him. Several people are taking pictures or recording while the tour guide rattles on about the Seattle fire and the way of life back in the day.
Slowly, my mom catches up to my dad, trading in my arm for his as she holds onto him. He looks down at her before placing a loving kiss against her forehead. She smiles into him and for some reason, it weirdly chokes me up. They are so in love after over forty years together. They still light up when the other walks into the room. I think when you grow up with parents who are so in lovewith each other, you just think it’s normal but then you become an adult and realize how much of a gift it actually is. You understand how hard they have had to work at that love over their life and how precious it is.
“They love each other a lot,” Nico says into my ear, scaring the ever loving shit out of me.
I yelp in surprise, earning scolding looks from the rest of the tour goers before the guide continues his speech.
“You scared the fuck out of me,” I whisper.
“Don’t be so skittish,” he shrugs.
I roll my eyes, though I doubt he can see me do it.
“We are in a dark and creepy abandoned tunnel where this old as dirt city used to be built. You know how haunted it probably is down here from all the people that died in the fire?”
“If you were paying attention to the story, no one died in the fire, surprisingly. So your basis of a haunted tunnel is weak at best.”
I give him a flat look that tells him to shut the fuck up and he raises his hands in surrender, smiling as he backs away. Asshole.
Focusing back on the man’s words, I catch the part that he says about how the fire spread out of control because all of the sidewalks were made of wood as well as the water pipes and spouts. Hindsight, that was a terrible fucking idea. Then again, what do I know about infrastructure back in the late nineteenth century.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I stop walking for a moment to check who it is.
Alec: Hey beautiful, I miss you. Can I see you tonight?
