Iago pulled the latch that released the stairs to the attic. Each step up the stairs was a combination of creaks and squeaks as the hinges and old wood rubbed against each other. There was light shining through the window which showed the dust motes hanging in the air creating a musty smell with the weight of age. He made his way across the bare floorboards to some boxes stacked away in one corner. Veronica had asked him to clean it out; go through the boxes and get rid of any stuff that they weren’t going to use anymore. He knew it was a bad idea to send him up here, it was going to take him all day and he might only get through one box. She should be the one up here, and he had told her so, for the simple fact that she was more capable of getting rid of these things. He would spend all day reminiscing about the memories each item had, or convincing himself that they’ll use an item once they do X, Y, or Z. It was wasteful to get rid of perfectly good stuff like this.

“t’s not wasteful,” she explained to him as she was getting ready to leave for work. “We’re not throwing the stuff in the trash. We’re going to donate it so that someone else can get some use out of it.”

“But what about-“

She kissed him goodbye. “Remember, we’re trying to cultivate a space that works for us, not the other way around.”

This is what he gets for buying her that book on Hygge.

Because it was memories that he saw when he looked at these boxes. He pulled out a straw hat with a band around it that said Cuba in stylized lettering. He hadn’t worn this hat in years, and had no plan to because hats were never his thing; he had an odd shaped head and they looked funny on him. When he looked at this hat though he didn’t just see an object that he’d never use taking up space in a box of more stuff that he didn’t use, he saw the memory of him and his wife’s first trip together to Cuba. How they had spent their days lounging on the beach sipping cocktails and eating food, occasionally dipping into the ocean to cool off. Then at night when the humidity had broken they would head back to their room and make love in the moonlight while waves crashed on the beach.

He put the hat down to one side, that would go in the Keep pile. He reached into the box to see what else he could find. He came up with a piece of wood; that could be used for an interesting art project. He put it down in the Keep pile. After a couple of hours he had managed to get through two boxes and stepped back to see the two piles he’d made. There was the Keep pile; there was the hat from Cuba and the piece of wood, some toys from his childhood, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles action figures, a clock he had built in his high school shop class that didn’t run but he could fix, among some other things. The second pile was the Maybe pile; stuff he wasn’t sure about yet. There were some old CD’s and a couple of VHS tapes with the no labels on them so he couldn’t tell what they were, some textbooks from college which he dropped out of, a pile of old magazines, and a fake plaster skull. His Donation pile was still empty.

There were ten or twelve boxes left, and these were just the ones in the attic. They had a whole separate room in the basement with even more boxes and stuff stacked up. Veronica wasn’t going to like this, but at least he had gotten started. She could make the executive decision on the Maybe pile and at least that would be some stuff they’d have gotten rid of.

He could only do his best, he told himself, and grabbed a third box. This one was full of old electronics. There was an old Nintendo that was definitely going in the Keep pile. There was an old computer mouse; the one he had now was wireless but it was always good to have a spare- Keep pile. There was an old VCR that was going into the Keep pile, and now he could move those VHS tapes from the Maybe pile as well. In the bottom of the box he found his old cell phone from back when they used to flip open. Now here was an interesting little artifact. He wondered how long it had been since he used this thing, at least ten years, back when he was still in school. So many years, so many changes; he wondered what bits of information he could pull form it. He checked the time, he’d been at it for a little over two hours now, a good time to take a break. He dug around in the box and found a cord that looked like the charger and took it down to the kitchen.

He plugged the phone in and left it on the counter to charge for a bit, just enough so he could turn it on. He needed a little pick up after working all morning so he poured some water into the kettle and set it to boil for some tea.

He was too excited about the phone and went to turn it on. The whole experience was like muscle memory; flipping the phone open, holding down the power button, watching the animation on the screen as the phone came to life. It was like being thrown back to college when he worked part-time at a Taco Bell. He had to keep his phone on silent and out of sight, so periodically he would duck into the washroom or the big walk-in freezer and flip his phone open to see if anyone had texted him about plans that night. He flipped through the menu, found Pictures and went into the file. There were three pictures saved there, all of them too small and blurry to distinguish what they were supposed to be. He was going to delete them when he paused, Veronica might be able to tell what they are, so he backed out of the pictures and returned to the menu. He scrolled down and found Text Messages, this is where the treasure would be hidden. He opened up the inbox.

There were only a handful of messages there. Maybe he didn’t lead as exciting a life as he’d thought. A few were from Veronica, they had just started dating, and most of the messages were plans to meet up later. Nothing salacious or exciting. A few messages from his sister telling him that she had just gotten a phone of her own, and then there were a string a name-calling. That was still typical of her. The last message was from his dad which read: Just tried 2 call you. Mum wants 2 do dinner this sat. Free? Ill try again.

That was a tough memory to come across. He remembered that dinner because he didn’t go. There was a party he wanted to go to instead, so he lied and said he needed to study for an exam or write a paper, some bullshit excuse. Two weeks later an embolism burst in his father’s head and he died.

Maybe there were some memories that it was best to let go of.

Iago took the kettle off the burner and poured the hot water into a mug. He was about to drop a tea bag in when the phone rang. The cell phone.

He walked over and picked it up. It vibrated in his hand with each ring. He flipped it open and looked at the screen. The caller display said Dad’s Cell. It couldn’t be. This had to be some sort of joke, some mix up. The phone didn’t even have a SIM card in it anymore. He pressed the answer button and held the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“There you are, thought maybe you were dodging my calls.”

“Dad?”

“Well yeah, at least last time I checked.

“Who is this really?” Iago was fighting back tears.

“It’s dad, I thought we established that already. Anyway, did you get my message about Saturday?”

“It’s…it’s good to hear your voice again.” Tears were rolling freely. It couldn’t be true, but he wanted to believe. He had to focus so his voice wouldn’t crack. “I don’t know how this is even possible. How are you calling me right now?”

“Same way I always do. You all right?”

“It’s just,” did he break the news? Was it even news? His mind was running around in circles with no navigator pointing the direction to go. “I don’t understand how you’re calling right now, you died almost ten years ago.”

“Well you can’t expect me to know how this crazy technology stuff works. I just punch in the numbers and hope for the best. So Saturday, yay or nay?”

He wanted to say yes. He wanted to go back and change his mind and be able to enjoy one final dinner as a whole family. That wouldn’t change anything though, would it? He still wouldn’t have gone, and his father would still have died. He played it as it lay, but with a little more truth.

“I don’t think I can make it, there’s a girl at this party.”

“Well if there’s any reason to miss a dinner, that’s it. I hope she’s treating you well.”

“She is. She’s the one.”

“Great. Hey by the way, the other night I watched a program about beavers. It was the best dam program I’ve ever seen.”

“Ha, that’s a good one.”

“Well your mother is calling me away, wants me to clean out the storage room. God I hate doing that stuff; get so lost in theregoing to take me a week at least. Talk to you later.”

“Yeah, I hate it too. And dad, I love you.”

“Pff, pansy. I love you too.”

The phone went silent. Iago looked down at screen and saw that there was no signal available to make calls. He flipped it closed and slid it into his pocket. This was going in the Keep pile.