The thick suffocating Philadelphia air was changing into something more moderate, comfortable. A bit crisp, just a hint of chill in the air. A few orange gold leaves had already dropped from the trees scattering across the lawn. I walked the front grounds, my head bowed, deep in thought when the sound of a car startled me back to reality. I ducked behind a tree and watched.
Cora was seated behind the wheel of an old black Buick. It looked like an early sixties model, but it had been kept all shiny and new in the carriage house garage. She sat up straight behind the wheel and had a little round hat on her head; she faced forward with a purposeful look on her face. Now was my chance. I watched her until the gate closed behind her then I headed for my room. Grabbing the box from under the bed, I went through the tunnels back to the main house. I got the feeling that every time I passed through them they got smaller and that at some point they would close in on me all together.
The house was dark but I knew the layout well enough to get to the kitchen without light. The moonlight came through the kitchen windows stretching across the counters making strange patterns in the darkness. I ignored it and climbed the stairway very carefully. When I got to the room that I knew was Nick’s, the knob wouldn’t turn. The handle jiggled back and forth but wouldn’t open. I stood there; box under my arm unsure what to do. I hadn’t anticipated this. I went to the next door and tried the handle. If I was right, this had to be Cora’s room. I had no choice but to go through to get to Nick’s room to put the box back. If I didn’t, Cora might notice it missing, if she hadn’t already. I shifted my weight from foot to foot. If there was one person’s bedroom I had no desire to see it was Cora’s. I held my breath and entered.
My brain was telling me to keep going, find the adjoining door and put the box back, but my feet wouldn’t move. The entire surfaces of the walls from floor to ceiling were covered with papers. They were taped up neatly so they didn’t overlap but you couldn’t see any wall space underneath. I looked closely and squinted. Children’s drawings, and photographs. My eyes were adjusted to the dim light coming through the window and I could only really discern different shades of gray. But what I saw left me riveted to one spot. A shrine of his childhood; baby pictures, his first scratchings with crayon on paper, the alphabet he had recited on paper, pages from a coloring book neatly cut out and pasted up, It went on and on across the wall. The crayon drawings got better as he got older and then eventually switched to pen and ink, charcoal, watercolors. There was even one from high school that looked to be a crude design for a building. His budding talent as an architect immortalized in this room.
Seeing it only in shades of gray was dizzying enough, but with the light on this would be nothing but an assault of color I was tempted to flick the switch but the room faced the front of the house. Cora would see it if she pulled through the gate. My mouth was dry and I felt sick. My legs were rubbery. I stumbled backwards and forced myself to open the adjoining door. There was no lock on it, no barrier to get into Nick’s room. The one door where there should have been a lock; there wasn’t.
I put the box down exactly where it had been. I didn’t stop to look around. I’d seen enough. I leaned against the wall briefly and closed my eyes. I tried to remember breathing techniques I learned when I went through a yoga craze a few years ago. In through my nose, hold four seconds and out through my mouth. Or was it the other way around? It didn’t matter because no air was going into my lungs anyway. Things started to spin and I was afraid for a minute that I might faint and Cora would find me here. I went back through Cora’s room and out into the hallway. It was then that I heard footsteps in the foyer. Unmistakable heavy footsteps. The main stairway that led to the foyer was at the end of this hallway. If she came upstairs, she’d see me in few minutes. She had to have taken the car out and just driven once around the block.
By the grace of God the doorknob across the hall turned under my hand when I twisted it. I was in an office of sorts. I leaned against the wall behind the door and waited. My hands were clenched in fists, my palms sweating profusely. Straining to hear any sounds coming from the other side, I pressed my ear against the door, but my heart was beating so loud and fast it drowned out all other sounds. The swoosh swoosh in my chest came so fast and hard, I was sure I was going to die. Sweat rolled down the side of my face. I brushed it off with the back of my hand. Then the muscle of my upper left arm began to twitch uncontrollably.
I was stuck. There was no way out. I was on the second floor facing the back of the house. Even if I could have climbed out the window there was nothing to hold onto to scale to the ground. The only way out was the door that led back into the hallway. If I went back out that door I would surely get caught. I’d found from experience that most of the doors in the hallway were locked. I couldn’t even plan on ducking into one of the rooms if need be. So I stood there, my thoughts racing incoherently. I tried to stop them or slow them down but they came one after the other creating a circle of panic in my brain.
The room was dark but I could see the desk, the filing cabinet, a typewriter. No computers or modern inventions here. The fact that there was electricity in this house surprised me. I wasn’t sure there was even a telephone. My cell phone was in my purse in my room so I couldn’t even call for help. After standing in the corner until my muscles were rigid I sat down in a heap, my back to the wall. I was so weary I thought I might weep. Some of the anxiety dissipated slightly as the minutes passed. There were no sounds from the other side of the wall. I stood and tip-toed to the window. The woods were there in the distance. A far off light was visible through the trees. The Cooper house. Was Ginny sound asleep in one of those rooms well sedated? For some strange reason that light brought me comfort. Civilization was out there, not too far away. My heart rate slowed. I turned around and took stock of my situation.
The opportunity had availed itself to look around. I listened to the sound of nothingness and went over to the desk. The top drawer slid out almost noiselessly. It was as neat and organized as the rest of the house. It held just a calendar and some personal financial records. I pulled them out and sat down in the chair, spreading them before me. The calendar was filled with appointments and to-do notes. I held them close to my eyes and squinted to read the print but the dim light that came from the window was insufficient. Pushing the calendar aside, I perused her financial records. Blue ledger books were used to record all checks written every month. There were four in all. A metal box held cancelled checks and bank statements. I opened the cover of the book and skimmed through the entries. The print was very small and neat which afforded maximum space. The first entry was dated 6/86 and ran through to the present. I put it down and picked up the one underneath it. It began in 9/78. Under each month, check numbers and amounts were listed. The other side of the page contained corresponding names and addresses. I looked down the list. The usual utility bills, car insurance payments and credit card bills appeared. I turned the page. Cora had made out a rather sizeable check every month to a Mr. Ralph Simpson, 413 Crescent Lane, Philadelphia. This had to be the gardener. The payments began in Nineteen seventy-four and stopped abruptly in the fall of Nineteen-ninety. He’d left after sixteen years of service. I committed the address to memory and closed the book, laying it in front of me.
I reached for the bottom drawer. It wouldn’t open. There was no key in any of the other drawers. I was so lost in what I was doing that I forgot for the moment that Cora might be in the house. I was jolted back to reality when I saw light streaming under the office door. Someone had flicked a switch in the hallway. I froze. The ledger books, calendar and cancelled checks covered the top of the desk. Heavy steps were coming down the hall. My fingers were trembling so hard that checks fell to the floor as I was stuffing them back in the box. In frustration I crumpled a few and stuffed them in my pocket. When they were all back in and I could close the lid, I pulled out the drawer and put the box back where I’d found it. The footsteps passed my door and continued on down the hallway. I breathed heavily and put the ledger books back and slid the calendar back on top. The footsteps grew heavy again and stopped right outside the office door.
I looked around. The only place for me to go was the closet on the far wall. The chair squeaked when I got up. I didn’t dare to breathe or move. I just stood in one spot, waiting for the door to open. It didn’t happen. My hair was drenched in sweat. It felt like it was 110 degrees in the room. My clothes were damp and clung to my body. I had the urge to urinate and squeezed my legs together tightly. That was all I needed; to wet my self. The closet door was made of heavy wood. I had no idea what was in it or if there was room to hide. I opened the door slowly; it creaked loudly on its hinges. If Cora could hear Ginny scream all the way in the guestroom then she could surely hear this. I was terrified and the adrenaline being dumped into my body was telling me it was justified.
The closet was full of men’s clothes. Old clothes that looked like they were from the turn of the century. Did they throw nothing away in this house? The closet was shallow but I managed to get myself in and shut the door. I sank to the floor hugging my knees. It smelled of mothballs and decay. I gagged a few times and tried to hold my breath. I heard the office door open only moments later and I saw a tiny sliver of light coming under the crack of the bottom of the closet door. It was barely enough to illuminate the tips of my shoes. My black suede Kenneth Cole loafers that I’d paid over a hundred dollars for. I’d saved the money over a period of a month and a half. When I finally bought them I hid them at the back of my closet for a week so that Nick wouldn’t see my extravagance. It wouldn’t have mattered. He never noticed.
I heard Cora moving about. The closet door was so heavy it obliterated much of the sound coming from the other side but I could hear movement. My throat closed off and I was afraid I would suffocate. When I tried to breathe the odor of the old clothes assaulted my nostrils. It was like a vintage clothing store only concentrated a thousand times. They should bottle this odor and sell it as a new perfume. Call it Thrift Shop Stench. I stifled a giggle at that. I suddenly had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. Cora would open the closet door and find me drenched in sweat, urinating on myself and laughing hysterically at nothing. Then she’d have me committed. I bit the side of my cheek as the urge to laugh got stronger. The light that came underneath the door became shadowed. Cora had to be blocking it. She had to be right on the other side of the door. The giggles died in my throat and I felt I’d been punched in the stomach. I drew in air and put my head down on my knees.
I was raised in the Presbyterian Church but never went back after my mother died. I searched my memory for any prayer I knew but the only thing that came to me was the twenty-third psalm. We had to memorize it in Sunday school when I was ten. Our class stood up in front of the congregation one Sunday and recited it during the service. I could see my mother in her gray dress and pearls smiling at me from the second pew. I was so afraid I’d forget part of it that I practiced it over and over in front of a mirror. I hadn’t thought about it in years but for some reason it came to me now.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. Want? I wanted to get out of here. My eyes were tightly closed. My body trembled. I was afraid to even lift my head. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside still waters. Water. The thought of it made me run my tongue over my teeth. They were dry and tacky. He restores my soul. He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness. My lips moved silently; Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for You are with me. It was then that the tears started streaming down my face. Was I walking down the valley of the shadow of death? And didn’t I fear evil? She was right on the other side of the door. Your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. I didn’t feel comforted. Hadn’t I already shared a table with my enemy? Though I didn’t get to really eat any food. I didn’t bother to wipe the tears, I just let them dry where they fell. When I looked up I could see the tips of my shoes again.
I heard the chair squeak with her weight. She was at her desk. My lips continued to move and when I got to: And I will dwell in the house of the Lord Forever, I started all over again from the beginning. I could hear the faint rustling of papers. I tried to concentrate on every syllable and block everything else out. God and I weren’t exactly on good terms, but if I ever needed Him this was it. I wasn’t even sure I’d put the ledger books back in the right order. I could feel the crumpled checks in my pocket poking me through the fabric of my jeans. Every so often I looked up to see if I could still see my shoes. My head was against my knees, my eyes closed.
I recited that psalm over and over, silently, only my lips moving. I rocked ever so slightly on my haunches with the words. I no longer smelled the odors of the closet. The psalm ceased to have any meaning. They were just sounds in my head that lulled me from minute to minute. At some point I looked up. I don’t know how much time had passed. Everything was dark. I felt my cheeks. The tears had long since dried, leaving itchy lines on my face. Had I fallen asleep? I didn’t think so because I could remember every minute as though through a hazy veil.
I moved my leg slightly. It was so cramped it screamed. Cora might have just turned off the light, for all I knew. I’d lost track of everything. She could be standing right outside the door. I decided to take my chances. I had to get out of there. My legs ached with the weight, when I stood. The old clothes hit my face and the odor was strong again. I turned the handle slowly and listened as the old hinges creaked. Limping out into the dark room, I was expecting a heavy hand on my shoulder.
Nothing. There was nothing. There was no longer any light coming under the door from the hallway. Maybe Cora was already asleep in that room across the hall covered in Nick’s renderings. I shuddered and practically ran across the room to the door. I went noiselessly to the main stairway. It was large and slightly curved, made of inlaid marble. An Oriental carpet ran up the center of the stairs. If I hadn’t just been through such a horrendous experience I might have felt like Scarlet O’Hara. As it was, I just clung to the banister and scampered to the front door.