The House 9

In the afternoon I sat next to my Grandma on the little couch in her room. We drank tea together. The events of last night seemed far-away and foolish now. I looked at her, really looked. Dark, soft, natural curls, accented by silver lines, graced her head. Her hair, always clean and freshly groomed. Her skin, soft and delicate a beautiful pearly pink. She didn’t cover it with powders and creams. She had a secret skin beauty.

She’d say, “Lottie, beauty doesn’t come from the outside.” As she ate her daily avocado and cucumber. Her skin held a soft beauty as a result, without creams nor moisturizers. Without powders and blushes. I admired her so much. Yet she looked much older than she really was. Her undressed dark eyes spoke volumes about pain and suffering and yet they seemed to smile in a simple beauty rarely seen. Only a few months ago I had sat beside her bed preparing myself to lose her forever. I barely knew her then. Now she sat upright on the couch beside me, her fingers caressing the edges of the warm teacup. A miracle. On nice days we walked outside. Today we sat and had tea. Greta and Teddy lay on the floor, coloring. Their pages lined the walls of her small but comfortable room. I wondered so much about her.

“Tell me about the house, Grandma.” I eventually burst out. She quietly set her cup down and looked into my eyes. She held my gaze like that and I saw in my mind a parade of events. The little girl I had seen in the window reflection, other children running outside under the fruit trees in the orchard. I saw children playing with chickens and feeding a pig. I saw grownups and then a dark cloud, the color of ink, blot all of it out. I started. She must have sensed what had happened because she took my hands in both of hers and squeezed gently. Her eyes had flooded with tears but she kept her gaze on me. In a moment I looked away and she dabbed her eyes with her napkin.

“Are you comfortable?” she asked.

“Oh, yes!” I returned

“It’s yours now. I won’t need it anymore.” She said quietly.

“But…” I began. I couldn’t absorb the fact that she keeps saying the house is mine. She must mean that in a hospitable way. You don’t just give a whole house and property away. Then there is the creepy way it moves and creaks and sometimes groans.

“It groaned.” I said quickly, half hoping that she wouldn’t notice.

“Things happened.” I added.

She became a little fierce in her response. “Don’t let them in. The house knows.” I looked at her in amazement. The house knows what? I wondered. She was so vague but I got the impression that the subject was now closed and she wanted to see what the children had drawn. Exclamations over the artwork ensued. Laughter and explanations filled the space around me. I found new places to tape the pages so that Great-Nana could see them. We began our good-byes. I put my arms around her shoulders and held her close for a moment. It felt so good to be there. There was a strength in her yet her body was so small and frail. It was as though courage filled her up and spilled over onto me. I kissed her gently. As we parted she smiled her infectious smile and announced.

“Inside is safety, Dear. Discovery is inside.” She held one hand up in a triumphant pose. Greta and Teddy copied the pose triumphantly, falling into the spirit of the stance. I made an attempt at the pose myself, though I was weak in it from feeling silly. I didn’t know what she meant by it.

We drove away. The kids happy. I wondered, why can’t I get any real answers from Grandma, only more questions. The kids were chatting about their artwork and the crayons. They love the crayons at Great-Nana’s. Somehow everything at Great-Nana’s is better, more wonderful. Even the cookies are better. I began thinking about Aunt Melinda. I should call her sometime and ask her about it. Maybe she knows something. She has been to the house, just never actually lived in it. Perhaps Grandma has confided in her. I know they are close.

We saw Josh, the neighbor, mowing the lawn, perhaps for the last time this year, as we pulled into our lane. I stopped to open the gate.

“Can we get out and run Mama?” Greta asked excitedly.

“Run?” asked Teddy, clapping his hands.

“OK” I gave in and unbuckled Teddy, while Greta unbuckled herself. I let them run beside the drive, shouting and jumping as they raced beneath the Maples. I closed the gate behind me, they had a head start and I drove slowly keeping my eye on them. When we got to the house I parked the car in the garage. I didn’t go into the house but walked around, running free with the children. I put my arms out and pretended to be an airplane. We flew around until we found Josh. He stopped his tractor and we went up to him.

“Ma’am?” he questioned.

“Nice day, Josh!” I declared.

“It sure is, ma’am.” He agreed.

“Josh,” I demanded, “what do you see?” I gestured with my arm the whole house, looking at it with pride.

“I’m not sure what you mean, ma’am.” He stammered uncertainly.

“Well, what do you see?” I reiterated. Sweeping with my arm again. This time I looked at him. He looked around.

“The house.” He said, still a little uncertainly.

“Well, what kind of house? A nice house, or a dilapidated house? Is it painted nicely? White with clean trim? Is it in good repair? Or is it broken down and in ruins?” I looked at him again and then back at the house.

By Elizabeth Williams, writing exercise, 1,000 words. 
Previous chapters of The House:  The House 8,  The House 7,  The House 6, The House 5 , The House 4 , The House 3 , The House 2 , The House 1
Next chapter:  The House 10