We all knew Felix was sick, that it was only a matter of time, but even still, when the phone rang and I stumbled out of bed and to the kitchen to answer it and I heard Subhan’s voice—too tired yet for grief—it still felt like there was room for argument. No, he’s not. Not so soon. We only spoke to him three days ago, didn’t we? And wasn’t he still alive?

It was my duty to call Rumi, who would call Forest and Liam. Rumi lived only three blocks away from me, and she soon showed up at the kitchen screen door wrapped in a fur coat, already crying.

What did Subhan say, she wanted to know. And the—when he—was it painful?

Out of all of us, only Subhan and I had ever seen someone die. Subhan, because he was a transplant surgeon, and I, because death had crossed my path and taken my mother.

He didn’t say, I told Rumi. But yes, I’m sure Felix died the way he wanted to die.

I drove us to the house, Rumi shivering even in her fur coat. The heat didn’t work in my car. A lot of things didn’t work in the car actually, but I had no intention of getting rid of it. Felix had given it to me, after Subhan told him he shouldn’t be driving anymore.

Forest and Liam would be late, Rumi told me from inside her fur. Liam had a night shift and Forest said she would wait for him. She didn’t want to call Liam at work, didn’t want to upset him, but surely in a case like this, said Rumi, he would want to know, wouldn’t he? He’s only a night guard and there are other night guards, aren’t there, so one of them could—WATCH OUT!

I slammed on the brakes. Subhan stood in the road. He was in his shirtsleeves even though there was frost on the leaves. We were a mile away from the house. He must have gotten up and started walking as soon as he hung up the phone.

Rumi reacted first—my heart was still hammering and all I could think was my friends are dying! Rumi got out of the car and pulled Subhan to her, into the fur, and she said something to him until he seemed to recall where he was. He squinted into the headlights at me and raised his hand half in greeting, half in apology. He came around to the driver’s side and I rolled down the window.

Hello Benny, he said. Sorry about that, really. It’s just that—you wouldn’t believe it, but the house is gone.

We put Subhan in the back seat. Rumi gave him her fur coat and I gave him my hockey team beanie, and he looked wild-eyed and undignified, and told us how as soon as Felix died, the house closed itself up door by door and left him standing in the lane.

No body, Subhan kept saying. Not even a body. It could at least have left his body.

We drove to where the house once stood, and Subhan was right. It was gone. Not even a turn in the road, or a mailbox, or ruins. Certainly no body. We wait there until Liam and Forest came, and Subhan told them what had happened all over again. Liam was still wearing his guard uniform and had his flashlight with him, so the five of us combed the ground where Felix’s house once stood, our hands turning blue, until Forest at last found a birdhouse toppled over in the roots of a tree. It was painted blue, and over the little opening, it said “Felix & Subhan’s House” in Felix’s handwriting.

Subhan bent over it and wept.

#

We went to Forest and Liam’s apartment, and put Subhan in their bed, where he fell asleep immediately. We put the birdhouse on the kitchen table and sat around it. Felix had taken up several hobbies when he found out he was dying, and painting birdhouses had been one of them. We all had one. Mine was painted purple and rose, and said “Benicia’s House”.

This can’t be all that’s left, said Forest. She made us tea and offered us food and wouldn’t sit down until Liam put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

They all looked expectantly at me. I realized that with Felix dead, with Subhan asleep, I was next in line.

A house doesn’t just go away, I said. That’s not what happens when someone dies. The birdhouse is here, and the rest must be elsewhere. We’ll start making calls tomorrow. We’ll find out where it went.

Rumi and I slept on the foldout couch; Forest and Liam got into bed with Subhan, one on either side of him. I dreamed I went into the kitchen and Felix was looking out at me from inside the birdhouse. Later I found out that we’d all had the same dream except for Subhan, who dreamed he was already inside the birdhouse, looking out at us all, wondering how to let us know he could hear us.

The next morning, we called everyone we could think of—the electric company, the gas company, the phone company, the town clerk, the bank, the hospital. None of them had any record of Felix’s address. Finally, we found a phone number for Felix’s aunt, who told us, quite primly, that yes, she had the house. It was with her now and we couldn’t have it.

I passed the phone to Subhan, who had medical school elocution and sounded white on the phone and who could mollify even the most unmanageable of cases. He calmly asked her where Felix’s body was. He listened to her speak, then said yes ma’am, yes, yes of course, I see, I understand, of course we will, yes, you too, good afternoon, and hung up.

The fool, Subhan said. The absolute fool!

He meant Felix. I could tell by the crack in his voice.

He left it to me, said Subhan. He left the whole fucking house to me.

Of course Felix’s family would not let Subhan have the house. It was an old arcane family, and quite greedy when it came to houses. Whatever Felix had done to entail the house had not been done all the way, and leaving it half-finished meant that all Felix’s family had to do was take the house for themselves.

But where exactly is, asked Liam. Physically, I mean?

Somewhere extraplanar is what I gathered, said Subhan. Nowhere you or I could get to easily, I’m afraid. They’ve put it there for safekeeping until they agree on what’s to be done. Knowing Felix’s family, that could be a very long time.

Forest put her hand very gently on Subhan’s arm and asked him where Felix’s body was.

Subhan smiled bleakly. Why, it’s still in the house, he said. They’ve just left it in the house.

#

Since we couldn’t have his funeral, we brought all our painted birdhouses to the empty field where Felix’s house once stood, and set them all in a row. It began to snow softly, white powder settling on the miniature rooftops until it looked like a little wintertime fairy village.

We all said a few words, slow and halting, with many breaks taken for tissues. I surprised myself by crying the hardest, like it all came out of me at once. It was for the best, because the rest of them rallied to console me, and I thought my tears gave them some strength.

It was only that I missed Felix so much. It was only that he shouldn’t have died. And now his beautiful home, the home that he and Subhan had made together, had been spirited away to some in-between realm, and his body there too, never to rot, and never to be buried.

Subhan came to stay with me, and my house became the place where grief lived. Forest and Liam came by frequently with wine and casseroles and cheerful distraction. Rumi didn’t come to visit at all, which I resented more than I realized, because when she finally showed up at my kitchen screen door, I wanted to snap at her.

Then I saw her face. She looked terrified. I took her hands, which were shaking, and asked her what was wrong.

The house, she said. The house is inside my linen closet.

#

We all crowded into Rumi’s cramped hallway. Her apartment was more disheveled than I’d ever seen it, and Rumi looked disheveled too. I felt a stab of guilt for being angry with her, even in my own head.

Liam was the bravest. He poked his head in, past the leaning towers of sheets and dishtowels. His shoulders followed, then his torso, and then he was gone, disappeared into Rumi’s linen closet.

It wasn’t there yesterday, said Rumi. I only found it because I could feel a draft coming through.

Liam emerged. It took him a moment to find the words. Yes, it was the house, just as it was. He’d come out on the first floor, in the closet beside the stairs. When he looked out the window he could see pale, dusky mist and a landscape of endless grass.

Felix, the clever bastard, had left us a door.

Subhan grew impatient. He asked Liam if he’d seen Felix. Did he go upstairs? Did he go into their room?

But Liam had only had enough time to go to the window and back. It had been ten times slower for us.

I didn’t find Felix, said Liam. But you could tell he was in the house.

I have to see him, cried Subhan. He pushed past Liam and into the linen closet. The door shut behind him. In the back of the linen closet, there was only a wall again.

Felix and Subhan’s house, I remembered too late. It was Subhan’s house now. It had been left to him after all.

#

We called his name and pounded on the wall, but neither the door nor Subhan showed any sign of returning. Out of desperation, we called Felix’s horrible aunt. This time we didn’t have Subhan to charm her.

She told us, disdainfully, that whatever we had done had closed the way for her as well. Subhan was stranded.

We searched Rumi’s apartment from end to end, looking for another way in. There was nothing. We thought about calling Felix’s dreadful aunt, demanding she get Subhan back. Then Forest had the idea to ask Rumi what she’d been doing right before she’d noticed the door in her linen closet.

I’d gone to see the birdhouses, said Rumi. Since we have no grave for him, and they’re the next best thing. I left him flowers.

Where did you put the flowers exactly, asked Forest.

Rumi frowned at her. Inside my birdhouse, she answered. Why does it matter?

At a loss of anything else to try, we drove out to the birdhouses. There they all were, standing in a row. The flowers that Rumi had just placed in hers were gone.

Try yours, Benny, said Forest.

We put in the bouquet that we’d bought from the drugstore. Alongside the flowers, I slid in Felix’s favorite candy bar. Then we drove back to my house, where the phone was already ringing. It was Felix’s terrible aunt, who told us, baffled, that the way was open again.

Whatever you’re doing, she hissed, stop right now!

Rumi found the door first. She’d felt the draft again, she said. It was inside my pantry, behind the spices.

Since it was my door, I went in first. I stepped into a familiar hallway, the rooms full of books and well-worn furniture. It still smelled like Felix, the smell I thought of when I thought of Felix. It was a place I had been to many times and loved dearly. I looked out the window, and it was exactly how Liam had described it. It was still dusk, even though hours had passed for us on the other side.

I took the stairs two at a time. I found Subhan in his and Felix’s room. I found Felix there too, looking like he’d only just fallen asleep, except for the gray of his skin. I asked Subhan how long he’d been there, and he said only a few minutes. He hadn’t even realized he’d been shut in.

I called in Rumi, Forest, and Liam. We sat there with Subhan and said our last goodbyes.

We shouldn’t stay here for long, said Liam. Otherwise, the world outside will pass us by.

It took a long time for us to convince Subhan to step back over the threshold. He kept looking back behind him, and I knew that as long as this door stood open for him, Subhan would use it.

#

Felix’s family finally came and took the body away. They arranged a funeral—a grim, impersonal affair to which we were invited but not particularly welcomed.

After the funeral, Subhan went to the house more and more. He took a leave of absence from his work, and he would disappear for days, sometimes weeks. Forest and Liam opened their door too by leaving flowers in their birdhouse, and we all did our best to visit Subhan there as much as possible. Eventually, it stopped being dusk, and a long night fell on the house.

Then, one day, Subhan and I got into a fight. I told him I’d barely seen him lately and I didn’t think it was good for him to always be retreating into that empty, static memory where he could pretend that Felix was still alive. He told me I wouldn’t understand. I could never understand, could I, when all I ever did was give up my chances to be happy. I’d never let myself love anyone the way he’d loved Felix.

It was the worst fight we’d ever had. The next morning, meaning to apologize, I found that he’d gone back to the house and shut the door behind him. At the back of my pantry, there was only a wall. I called Forest and Liam but their door was gone too. Subhan had locked us out for good.

#

Rumi blamed me for Subhan’s departure, which was fair, since I blamed myself too. I could tell Forest was disappointed in me, though she’d never say it outright. Liam tried a few times to console me, but his quiet forgiveness stung worse than censure could have. I stopped speaking to all three of them.

Subhan might never come back. And if he did, decades might pass for us in the meantime, and only a few months for him. We had never quite figured out the time imbalance.

So I went to the only person who might help me—Felix’s wretched aunt. We met at a stuffy little restaurant for lunch. The windows were amber-tinted and the chandeliers were green quartz. It was clear that the waitstaff were already well-terrorized, because our lunch came out without us even ordering—an enormous pile of radish salad and a single lamb chop, on the bloodier side of rare.

After a lot of sycophancy on my part and a lot of belittling on hers, she told me that while she couldn’t get me into Subhan’s house, she could grant me access to its neighbor. It had once belonged to some distant cousin named Percival. From there, I would have to find my own way to Subhan’s house across the prairie. How safe was it? Not sure, dear, not sure at all.

Oh, and one more thing, said Felix’s repugnant aunt. In return, you will give me two years and one day servitude.

I reflected on how well Felix had turned out, despite his unfortunate family. And then I negotiated her down to a year and three hundred.

She took my hand and pressed a long fingernail into my palm until it bled. As soon as you come back, she said, you’re mine.

The door to Percival’s house was in the Hotel Fairview, in Room 804, in the back of the coat closet. I went through, and emerged into a long, unlit hallway so piled with junk that it was impossible to walk without having to move things out of the way—paintings, unplugged lamps, a basket full of binoculars, a blender, stacks of old mail, a television set. I fought my way to the front door and came out onto the prairie.

The sun was just beginning to rise, a sliver of crimson catching fire on the still grass. In the little light there was, I could just make out several houses on the horizon, all of them in different directions. I went back into Percival’s house and fetched the binoculars.

When it had still been a part of the world, Felix’s house had been painted green, with a small lopsided gate, and flowers in the front yard. I couldn’t see the flowers, which must not have survived the journey to this realm, but there was the gate! There was the green door with the lizard curled up around the doorknocker.

It took longer to cross the prairie than I thought it would. The sun rose further in the sky, though it remained a bright red. There was the sense of always being watched—I wondered several times how many of the houses on the horizon were occupied. But worst of all was the eerie, unnatural quiet. There was no wind, and the grass did not sway.

I had left a note on my front door explaining where I was in case Forest or Liam or Rumi came by to look for me before I returned. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, I wondered just how much time had passed. Would they worry? Would they try to find me? Bargain away years of their lives to Felix’s undeserving aunt?

There was nothing here. The grass, which was as tall as my chin, kept catching and snaring at me, tying knots around my ankles that took effort to break free of. It would be easy to get lost in this place. I kept my eyes on the green house with the lopsided gate, where I knew my friend was, where I could already see the light on in the upstairs study, where surely Subhan would welcome and forgive me.

At last, I reached the house. I lifted the sleeping lizard and used it to knock on the door, like I had done many times, sheltered in the shade cast by the eaves. The sun had begun to burn hotly now, and I could feel the heat creeping on the back of my neck.

The door swung open, and Subhan stood there, staring at me. He looked behind me, at the long and lonely way by which I’d come, at all the grass still caught on my clothes.

It occurred to me that I’d come all this way to ask Subhan a single question. It was no trivial question. This question had saved my life many times, and when it had been asked to me, I’d used it to save others in return.

I have nowhere to go, my friend. Can I stay with you a while?