Chapter 6 - The Return to the Ruins
Three weeks later, Nathaniel returned to Chicago.
He didn't fly first class. He flew in the cramped middle seat of a budget transatlantic carrier, having begged his estranged mother in Ohio to wire him four hundred dollars for a one-way economy ticket.
When his taxi dropped him off on Elm Street, he stood on the sidewalk and stared at his former home.
It wasn't his home anymore.
A large green municipal seal was pasted across the front door: PROPERTY SEIZED BY ORDER OF THE FEDERAL BANKRUPTCY COURT.
The windows were dark. The Volvo in the driveway was gone, replaced by an empty patch of melting snow. The small mailbox where Vivian used to collect her freelance translation checks was stuffed with red-inked foreclosure notices addressed to him.
Nathaniel walked up the steps, his hands trembling as he touched the cold brass handle of the front door. It was locked.
He was entirely alone.
He sank down onto the cold concrete porch, burying his face in his hands as a bitter wind swept off Lake Michigan, freezing the tears on his cheeks. He had wanted to climb. He had wanted to conquer. He had looked down at the quiet woman who gave him her heart, thinking she was a burden holding him back from greatness.
Now, looking at the boarded-up house and the empty street, Nathaniel finally understood the terrible truth.
May you like
She wasn't holding him back.
She was the only thing keeping him from falling into the abyss. And he had pushed her away with his own hands.
