House of Goths

by Maria Bernard

  “Get out of the way, Kell,” Crispin protested. “You’re blocking the television.”

  “Relax,” Kell said, claiming his armchair. “What’s this you’re watching, anything good?”

  “The Bloodletting!” Dorian exclaimed excitedly, sitting on the couch with his knees propped up.

  “Cool… I’ve wanted to see this for the longest time.”

  Ah, the comforts of routine, Kell thought to himself, resting his head back in his chair. As much as they might complain about each other, it was nice to have someone to hang with at the end of the day. Even if it was just to watch low-budget horror movies.

  “Well, you’re in luck. It’s only just started. You haven’t missed much,” Crispin said, sitting beside Dorian on the opposite end of the couch. “By the way, how’s our little dormouse? She still pissed at you for getting a sneak peek of her girlie bits?”

  “Get off it,” Kell said with a rueful grin, chucking the balled up list at him. The three of them chuckled heartily at the girl’s expense.

  “Silly little twit.” Dorian laughed. “She should be grateful she showed up here when she did. Not on the doorstep of some jock, frat-boy house.”

  “Amen to that,” Kell said, dragging his hands over his face.

  “Hey, it’s my list,” Crispin said, unravelling the crumpled piece of paper.

  “Yeah, about that,” Kell said with a shake of his head.

  “What list?” Dorian asked, reaching up and snatching it from Crispin’s hand.

  “Hey, I worked hard on that,” Crispin frowned.

  “Yeah, well, somehow I don’t think living above a questionable massage parlour is a good option for Becky. Do you, Dorian?” Kell asked sarcastically.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Dorian said, frowning as he continued to study the list.

  “It’s at the very bottom of the list,” Crispin grumbled guiltily. “Besides, do you realize how hard it is to find spare accommodations at this time? Most places are already taken by now.”

  “Well then, she’ll just have to stay here,” Dorian said, chucking the mangled piece of paper back at Crispin. “Those other so-called places you’ve found aren’t very practical either.”

  “What’s wrong with them?” Crispin asked.

  “They’re halfway across town for starters. How’s she supposed to get to class and back?” Kell said with a frown. “Anyway, Dorian and I have decided she should just stay here.”

  “Oh, you have, have you?” Crispin balked indignantly. “So just like that, my opinion doesn’t matter? What happened to the unanimous vote agreement?”

  “Of course, your opinion matters,” Kell said, matter of factly. “It just doesn’t count in this case. I do own the place, remember? That makes it my decision in the end.”

  “He’s right, Crisp. It’s his house,” Dorian agreed.

  “Oh shut it, you!” Crispin said, looking none to happy. “Fine, but just so you two know, I am not in agreement with you. Mark my words, she’ll ruin the very fabric of what we’ve strived to achieve here. Our world will never be the same!”

  “What the fuck, Crispin?” Dorian snickered. “Becky’s just one small girl. You make her out to something so terrible.”

  “She’ll upset the balance!” Crispin hissed. “You’ll see. In fact, she already has. She’s got you two wrapped around her little finger.”

  “Yeah right,” Dorian snickered.

  “Come on…” Kell bemoaned. Even though, it may actually be true, he wasn’t ready to admit to it. If Becky was to remain here, there could be no romantic notions about her. No matter how attached he’d become to her, she would be just another tenant in his house. Like Crispin and Dorian, she would simply be another body renting a room, albeit a prettier one. That aside, henceforth she would get no special treatment. None at all.

  “Mark… my… words,” Crispin hissed cryptically.

  “Shut the fuck up and watch the movie,” Dorian said, giving Crispin’s leg a kick.

  Chapter 5

  A full week since she’d fallen ill, Becky finally felt well enough to get out of bed. In fact, she woke up early enough to shower and get properly dressed for breakfast.

  Sadly, though, she was also aware that feeling better meant having to find a new place to live.

  Imagine her relief when at the breakfast table, she was informed that she was welcome to remain at the House of Goths if she so desired.

  Desire it, she most definitely did! So much so that she couldn’t contain an exuberant squeal of joy that almost sent Crispin flying from the room.

  “You won’t regret this. I promise!” She followed up with a hug for both Dorian and Kell. Not wanting to push her luck, though, she simply smiled sweetly at a scowling Crispin.

  “I already do,” he said, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow before turning his attention back to the newspaper he pretended to read.

  Ignoring his unsavoury comment, Becky took a sip of her delicious dark roast and picked up a flyer of her own to flip through. Baby steps, she told herself.

  ***

  After breakfast, relieved she wouldn’t have to move out, Becky excused herself and returned to her room. There, she did a private dance of joy. Finally, somewhere to belong! With people who, while a tad reluctant, at least, knew her by name. More than that, they’d looked after her while she was sick. Changed her sheets! Her clothes! Yikes!

  So what if she had imposed herself on them? Becky was well aware of the fact that she had practically thrown herself on their doorstep like a stray kitten. But she had been desperate! There was no way she would have lasted much longer out here on her own.

  Becky wasn’t expecting much from them, really. Just a sense of companionship, a feeling of belonging. That would have to be enough for her to get through her first year away from home.

  Feeling quite perky, Becky went ahead and unpacked her things. She did her best, given that she didn’t have much storage room. Just a small creaky wooden chest of drawers, the tiniest of closets and a rickety old night table. It was a good thing she didn’t have much to put away. Just some meagre items of clothing, her books, and art supplies.

  Being single-handedly raised by her granny meant that there wasn’t a lot of money for frivolous things.

  She didn’t have a lot of clothes, but what she did have was of good quality. Nothing fancy, but they had been purchased for her with the idea that such items were meant to last the duration of her years at university. She had four pairs of blue jeans, two pairs of black dress pants, a couple of skirts, blouses to match and a little black dress for special occasions, a pair of boots for the winter, a pair of modest black pumps, and of course, a pair of comfortable sneakers. She had a half a dozen short and long sleeved t-shirts in various colours, four sweaters for the cooler weather, two cardigans, two requisite hooded sweaters, three sets of pyjamas, some comfy sweats for lounging and two weeks worth of sensible cotton underwear, bras, and socks.

  Becky managed to fit all her clothes in the closet and drawers. The bottom drawer, she had reserved for her books and art supplies. Crouching down, she pulled it open. She was surprised to discover that it wasn’t empty. In fact, there were a couple of black t-shirts, some balled up socks, a questionable girlie magazine, an old music magazine with a scary looking dude on the cover, a discarded pewter skull ring, and several pieces of similar jewellery.

  Odd… perhaps one of the guys had already claimed this drawer. She really hoped it wasn’t Kelley. She didn’t like to think of him in possession of that trashy magazine.

  Then again, what did she really know about Kelley? Only that he’d been kind to her so far. So what if he liked to look at pictures of naked women? Why should it bother her so much?

  She was so distracted by her thoughts that she startled and fell back at the knock on her open door.

  “Hey…” Dorian said, looking in on her. “Oops, sorry didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “Oh, that’s okay, I frighten easily,”
she said from her position in front of the drawer in question. “Umm… do you know who these things belong to?”

  Dorian raised his pierced eyebrows when he looked from her to the items in the drawer. “Ah, here let me get those out of your way.” Crouching down beside her, he gathered up the various items.

  “I hope I’m not taking up someone’s space,” she said, averting her eyes, pretending not to have seen the racy magazine.

  “You’re not,” he said with an easy smile. “These things should have been removed ages ago.”

  “Oh,” she said, observing her new housemate. Out of all three of her male housemates, Dorian would be what she would describe as different from the others. For instance, he always had on his person, a multitude of intricate wristbands and timepieces with ornate visible gears. Often like now he wore goggles, either strapped to his forehead or hanging around his neck. He hardly ever wore a shirt, giving her an eyeful of well-defined sinewy muscle. While she was under the impression that he was Goth, there was something else about his appearance that made him… oh, what’s the word?

  “Steampunk,” he stated, jarring her from her thoughts.

  “Pardon?” she asked.

  “You’re wondering what I’m about,” he said with a devilish wink of his steely blue eye.

  “Yes, I guess I am,” she said, blushing slightly. “What exactly is steampunk?”

  “Kind of like goth or punk, except I’m more into science-fiction and gadgets,” he explained cheerfully, pulling out his pocket watch and displaying it for her.

  “I see,” she said pensively, lightly touching the fancy timepiece.

  “Becky?”

  “Yes?”

  “Sorry about last week,” he said with a sorrowful frown.

  “For what exactly?” she asked, slightly taken aback. If anything, she should be apologizing to him for being such a burden. Even though she knew that Kelley had been her primary caregiver, Dorian was never too far behind. Often bringing her tea, water, and tissues.

  He looked guiltily at her as though he’d done something unforgivable. “For what I said last week, about you being a girl. As if that should be enough reason to not welcome you here.”

  “Oh… that’s all right,” she said with a tiny shrug.

  It wasn’t really okay, though. It had hurt her feelings at the time. Not to mention the fact that none of them had stuck up for her, not even Kelley. It wasn’t her fault that she was female. She’d been simply hoping for a place to live with people that were kind and respectful.

  “No, it’s not,” he said with remorse. “I made it sound as if you wouldn’t be safe here. That’s the furthest thing from the truth. In fact, Becky, you’ll never be safer than here with us… with me.”

  “Aw, thanks for saying that,” Becky said with a shy smile. Maybe getting sick hadn’t been such a bad thing. Perhaps having had her around made them realize that she wasn’t such a threat to their all male Gothic sanctuary after all. “You took such good care of me. Thanks for that, Dorian.”

  “Well, what did you expect?” He all but laughed. It was his turn to be shy now. “Human sacrifice?”

  “No… of course not.” She giggled. “Although, I’m not quite so sure about Crispin.”

  “Ah, don’t let him worry you. He is a peculiar one, though, I’ll give you that. Even I don’t feel completely safe around him,” he said with a mischievous grin. “I’ll let you get back to work.” He stood up and left the room, taking the questionable items from the bottom drawer with him.

  ***

  Having gotten her room ready, Becky decided to better acquaint herself with the bathroom facilities next and perhaps carve a wee bit of space for her toiletries.

  “Ah, we meet again,” Crispin said, leaning in the open bathroom door, catching Becky off guard.

  She had been standing there for who knows how long, contemplating where to store her little basket of toiletries. The bathroom wasn’t very big to begin with. An oversized old fashioned claw foot tub took up most of the space, encircled in a barely there, gauzy shower curtain. There was a toilet, a sink with an already filled to capacity cabinet underneath, a small medicine chest with a mirror, set way too high up on the wall for her to properly see her reflection. Besides all that, there was a rather unfortunately located window, right by the tub, facing the backyard. No curtain or blinds to shield the bather’s modesty.

  “Crispin, you startled me,” she gasped shakily, causing the contents of the basket to rattle.

  At her unwelcome reaction to him, Crispin couldn’t help but scowl. He crossed his arms in front of his chest defiantly and quirked a definitive eyebrow. So, this was what he would have to come to expect every time he ran into her. Fear, shock, repulsion… Look at her, standing there looking ever the victim in a house of horrors. Why did he even bother?

  “I… I was just putting some of my things away.” She forced herself to ignore his glaringly obvious dislike of her. “Let me get out of your way.”

  “It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it? Getting out of my way?” he asked coolly. “Looks like I’m stuck with you whether I like it or not.”

  She flinched in reaction to his biting words and quite possibly shrunk even smaller in stature. Becky couldn’t help but frown at him. Would he always hate her? What had she done to deserve such loathing? What had happened to the kindness he’d shown her the other day? He’d brought her soup. He’d sat and listened to her concerns.

  She must have mistakenly believed that they had gotten past the obvious disdain that he clearly still had for her. How could someone so otherwise beautiful be so cruel?

  “Oh, put that miserable little thing back in its place,” he said with a scowl, pointing at her slightly protruding bottom lip. “It won’t work on me, that quivery pouty thing you do.”

  “I am not pouting!” she said indignantly, realizing that indeed she was.

  “Right.” He snickered. “Well, cut it out or I’ll be forced to cut it off.”

  “Why do you have to be so hateful?” she said with a gasp.

  Avoiding her question and averting his eyes from her sorrowful gaze, lest he be tempted to apologize, Crispin simply tisked and stepped towards her.

  His approach was so sudden and purposeful that she took an instinctive step back.

  “What have you got there?” he asked, pointing an elegant finger at her little plastic basket. “Your girlie things?”

  “My toothbrush and other toiletries,” she answered bashfully.

  “Hmmm…” Turning to the cabinet, Crispin picked up a communal toothbrush holder in the form of a plastic cup, plucked one particular toothbrush out and pitched it into the nearby trash can. He then held the cup out to her. Understanding his meaning, she reluctantly withdrew her toothbrush from her basket and placed in the cup with the three others.

  Raising an eyebrow at the lilac coloured brush, he shuddered briefly before placing the cup back down on the countertop. Becky couldn’t help but giggle at his over-the-top aversion to something so insignificant as a splash of colour.

  “Lord, help us all,” he grumbled, ignoring her, opening the cabinet doors and crouching down in front of it.

  Becky watched curiously as he rifled through its contents, tossing the odd thing into the trash, muttering and swearing the entire time. After sifting through the cabinet, he held his hand out to her and snapped his fingers, waving her over.

  She was about to tell him off for snapping his fingers at her like that, but she caught herself. Baby steps, she thought as she reluctantly handed him her basket. He impatiently snatched it from her and proceeded to place it into the corner he’d cleared for her.

  “There,” he said, standing up to his significant height, looking quite pleased with himself.

  “Thanks,” she said with a rueful smile.

  “Yeah… well, whatever,” he said, sizing her up and down, glancing around the bathroom before picking up the trash can and leaving her there staring after him.

&n
bsp; ***

  Sometime in the late afternoon, Becky realized that she was all alone in the house. So engrossed in arranging her room, she’d lost track of time.

  In dire need of a snack, she made her way downstairs to have a look around in the kitchen. She took the opportunity to take in the rest of the house on the way. While it appeared large on the outside, the actual interior of the house felt small and cozy if not antiquated and cluttered. The front door was situated in the centre at the bottom of the steep staircase. The floors, banister, doors and baseboards were of dark wood. Most of the walls were covered in ornate damask wallpaper in various shades of burgundy and taupe.

  To the left of the front door, she found the small television room that she recognized from the week before, where they’d held her trial. At the memory of the unpleasant event, she experienced a cold shiver. Taking a deep breath, she sighed with relief that they’d changed their minds about kicking her out.

  Attached to the television room, separated by two French doors was a full on dining room. It looked to be a tad neglected, given the layer of dust that covered the antique dark wood table. Pity, it would be nice to have dinner at such a lovely old table. At that thought, Becky felt homesick, realizing that Thanksgiving would soon be here. In years past, she’d enjoyed spending the holiday at home at Granny’s with turkey and all the fixings. This year, though, things would be different since Granny had moved into the retirement home. Still, she looked forward to visiting her there. The retirement home had a special events dinner planned for family and friends.

  Continuing her private tour, Becky discovered that on the right side of the front entrance was a larger turreted room. It had the best light given that the windows were bowed and faced south and the walls were painted white. In this room, Becky discovered three easels, each with covered canvases placed upon them. Unveiling them one by one, she noted that each painting featured very different styles and subject matter. Realizing that she’d just moved in with three artists, she smiled and clasped her hands together in thanks. How positively perfect! Perhaps they would spare her a spot in here to paint.