If the Broom Fits

by Sara Bourgeois

  “Huh,” I said. “Is that all you wanted?”

  I shook my head and chuckled at the fact that I’d just asked my refrigerator a question and moved on to put the rest of my groceries in the empty cabinets. I wanted to just leave the bags with the non-perishables on the counter, but I knew if I did, they’d sit there forever. I’d just take what I needed out of the bags and then eventually throw them away when they were empty.

  My ex hated that. He’d chastise me all of the time for not putting everything away, but it wasn’t like he ever helped me with the shopping or the cooking.

  Donnie always acted like him making more money was enough. He didn’t even acknowledge that I also worked full time. It was probably better that we never had a child, and I felt a little bad for his new wife.

  “Not my circus. Not my monkeys.” I reminded myself.

  I went upstairs to the bedroom that I planned to use as mine. I needed to get it clean and ready if I was going to stay at Hangman’s House that night. Before I stripped the beds, I checked the closet for any bats, I was prepared to flee again, but I found none.

  I stripped the bed and put the linens in a laundry basket I’d found in the basement next to the washer and dryer. My biggest fear had been that the mattress would be in unusable condition. After all, the beds had to be decades old. But, interestingly enough, it looked pretty new. It was definitely in better shape than the one I’d spent the night on at Mama Hattie’s. I took the linens downstairs to the basement and put them in the washer after moving its load to the dryer.

  When I got back to the bedroom, I could swear the mattress looked even better. It was whiter and there seemed to be less dust on the headboard too.

  “Must be a trick of the light,” I said and reached into the box next to the bed for the sheet’s I’d brought.

  Once the bed was made with my sheets and comforter, I retrieved the Electrolux and vacuumed the floor.

  It appeared that the room had undergone an amazing transformation. I couldn’t believe what a little vacuuming and some clean sheets had done for a room that had scared me away the first night. When I looked up, I could swear the dark brown water stains in the ceiling had faded almost into oblivion. Still, I was convinced it was nothing more than funny lighting.

  If nothing else, I was glad I hadn’t given up on Hangman’s House after my first impression. It had been completely wrong. I found some blinds in the closet and a toolbox and step ladder in the hall closet. It didn’t take me long to hang them over the window, but I left them open so the light could fill the room. It still stopped at the doorway like it was afraid to go into the hall or something, but I reasoned, again, that it was just something in the angle of the house’s position or something.

  When I was done in the bedroom, I went downstairs and put the vacuum away again. A memory of Donnie tripping over the cord one time when I’d left it out at our old apartment tried to worm its way into my thoughts and spoil my good mood, but I didn’t let it. But, I was amazed at how much easier it was for me to clean and tidy when I was doing it for me instead because I was scrambling to meet his standards.

  The drapes in the living room needed to be put back, so I worked on that next. I decided that perching on the edge of an end table, like I’d done to take them down, wasn’t the best idea. The house didn’t have a garage, but I’d seen a shed out back. I decided to look there for a ladder, and I hit pay dirt. I also noted that the shed contained more tools, a lawn mower, and stuff likes rakes, hoses, and gardening shears. It was nice to know I wouldn’t have to buy all that stuff if my lawn decided to come back from the dead.

  When I was just about done hanging the curtains, I noticed movement outside the front window. I peeked through the drawn drapes and saw that it was the cat again. He’d jumped up on the outside sill and was starting at me through the glass. I watched him for a second before saying “shoo” and waved him away. He looked at me for another moment and then put one of his big paws on the glass.

  So, I went outside and tried to shoo him away again. “You have to go, kitty,” I said and tried to get him to jump off the sill. “You need to go home.”

  He did jump off the sill, but instead of moving along, he darted into the house through the front door that I’d left ajar. “Awesome,” I said and followed him in.

  The cat stretched out in front of the unlit fireplace that shared a wall with the dining room and kitchen. I couldn’t help but notice that he sure seemed at home and figured that he must have been living in the empty house before I came along. I didn’t want a cat, but I didn’t want to pick him up and throw him out either. As far as I knew, Coventry didn’t have an animal shelter. I didn’t want to call county animal control or the sheriff about a cat breaking into my house. I decided I’d let him sleep there in front of the fireplace for one night and then figure out what to do with him later.

  Chapter Three

  The cat didn’t just lay in front of the fireplace, though. When I went into the kitchen to make my dinner, he followed me at a distance. While I cooked a pan of ground beef and a pot of potatoes, he seemed to be studying me carefully. The scent of the cooking meat made my stomach rumble, and I guess it had the same effect on the cat. Each time I turned around, he was just a little bit closer.

  “I guess you’re thinking I’m going to share some of this beef with you,” I said, and he raised his paw like he had before. “Oh really?” I teased, but he just laid down and watched me some more. “This is my dinner.”

  When the food was done cooking, I’d committed to ignoring him. It didn’t happen. I spooned some of the cooked beef into a bowl and set it on the floor next to another I’d filled with water.

  “I’m not doing this because you’re my cat,” I said more to myself than the cat. “I’m doing it because it’s impolite not to share your dinner with guests. You can’t be my cat. I can barely handle my own life let alone be responsible for another living creature.”

  He meowed in response, and it vaguely sounded like a cat version of “thank you.” But, that was a trick of my tired mind and too many cat videos on social media. Not that I watched a lot of cat videos. I was totally not a cat person. I mean, I’d always wanted one when I was a little girl, but I’d grown out of that.

  While the cat ate his food, I sat down at the kitchen table with my meal of boiled potatoes and ground beef. At least I had salt and pepper for them. I liked plain meals most of the time. It kept me humble, and it made life easier. I began to think of what Donnie would have said about a meal like the one I was eating, but I pushed those thoughts aside again. It was getting easier to let them go. I was proud of myself for that.

  I knew my savings weren’t going to last forever, but I had no prospects for a job in Coventry. I’d just have to make the money last as long as possible. Perhaps if things got dire, I could always do odd jobs. I could clean and the lawnmower in the garage meant I could cut grass for my neighbors too. That thought gave me a little comfort. It would probably make the teenagers of Coventry who depended on that type of work for pocket money hate me, but what could I do? I had to eat and keep the power on. Until I could figure out what to do with the cat, I had another mouth to feed too.

  When I was done washing the few dishes I’d used, it wasn’t very late yet, but I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was get the kitchen tidied up and then make my way to bed.

  While I was putting the pans away, instead of leaving them in the drying rack, I noticed what looked like a jar on the top shelf of the cabinet. I probably should have gotten the ladder, but instead I climbed up on the counter to retrieve it. I got it off the shelf and climbed down as carefully as I could.

  It was actually a porcelain canister with a little lid that sealed with rubber rings. When I opened it, I couldn’t believe my luck. I pulled the slip of paper out first.

  “A little something for a rainy day,” the note inside read.

  It must have been Maude’s handwriting, but why had she left herself a note? I shrugged. S
he was the Mad Maude I loved after all. In addition to the note was a stack of five- and ten-dollar bills. A thick stack. All told it was just over five hundred dollars. That was enough money for me to eat and keep the power on for at least a couple of months. Maybe more if I was careful. The most interesting part, and it had to have been a total coincidence, was that when I took the money out of the canister, thunder cracked in the sky and it began to rain.

  “That’s a coincidence,” I said to the cat. “But, I guess I should pay this good fortune forward. You can stay with me. For now. No promises, but let’s go to bed. I’m tired.” I started to walk out of the kitchen to the dining room, but I stopped and turned to the cat again. “But, you stay off my pillow.”

  I tucked myself into bed and my head barely hit the pillow before I was out. Despite being exhausted and the bed being comfortable, I did not sleep peacefully. I’d wake fitfully and find the cat pressed against my back purring softly. It was enough to help me drift off again, but it wasn’t enough to keep the night terrors at bay. My dreams were terrible, anxiety ridden nightmare scapes.

  The one I remember the most clearly was a group of people in long dark robes shoving me and a few other women around. I couldn’t see the faces of the people in the robes because their heads were covered with hoods. It was just blackness under their cowls, but the strange thing was that I couldn’t see the faces of the women with me either. I got the feeling that I knew them somehow, but I couldn’t focus on their features.

  We were all being shoved away from somewhere we wanted to be, but the others didn’t want us anymore. It was heartbreaking and made me feel as though I was falling endlessly even though I stood upright in the dream.

  When I woke up, the bedroom blinds were closed. It was odd because I’d left them open when I went to sleep. I liked the moonlight, and I didn’t figure anyone could see in my second story bedroom window anyway. Plus, I hadn’t realized they were open until I already had myself tucked under the covers. I didn’t want to move from my cocoon, so I’d left them alone.

  Maybe there was just something wrong with the mechanism, I reasoned. They’d been stashed in the back of a closet, so it wasn’t like they were brand new or anything. Perhaps the cat had messed with them in the night too. I’d seen plenty of videos of cats attacking blinds. Even if he had, it probably wouldn’t have woken me. I was too dead tired, and it wasn’t as if they’d been ripped down.

  Still, the memory of Harkin prattling on about his paranormal investigations sprang to mind. He’d made it pretty clear that he thought something supernatural was going on in Coventry. I told myself that was silly, but for just a moment, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. A realization was swimming around in the dark waters of my unconscious, and it was just about to surface when the cat jumped up on the dresser and knocked off my deodorant and a bottle of lotion.

  “Cat!” I yelled and jumped out of bed. “You’re so evicted.”

  I chased him down the stairs and into the kitchen where he jumped on top of the refrigerator and yawned at me. His big green eyes stared at me with a knowing look that seemed too intense for an animal. Plus, he’d comforted me when I was having nightmares.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’m having eggs for breakfast, but I will heat up some of the leftover beef for you.”

  The cat sat patiently while I fried up two eggs and heated some leftover potatoes for myself. When that was done, I nuked his beef for a few seconds. He looked longingly at my eggs.

  “Let me guess, you want one of my yolks,” I said jokingly, but he put up his paw again. “That’s a cool trick, but alright.”

  I used my fork to cut around the yolk on one of my eggs and then plopped it into his bowl. We ate breakfast together, and then I had to get back to work on the house. I still needed to spend some time in the dining room and the spare bedrooms. That and the bathtub needed a through cleaning so that I could shower when I was done with work that day. I was already getting pretty ripe, and I didn’t want to go to bed dirty again.

  After I’d done the dusting and vacuuming in the spare bedrooms and dining room, I finished the laundry and moved on to the upstairs bathroom. It was a bigger room that I would have expected. The clawfoot tub was huge, and I hoped that I could clean it up. I knew it would break my heart if it wasn’t salvageable.

  The cat curled up in the pedestal sink and watched me as I scoured and scrubbed. As much elbow grease as I put into cleaning that tub, I’d have to be careful that I didn’t fall asleep in the bath. Of all the work I’d done, it was definitely the most physically taxing, but when I was finished, I clapped my hands with joy. Despite the fact that it was decades old, and before I began cleaning it I thought it might be beyond repair, it looked brand new. All of the cracks in the porcelain had wiped away like they were streaks of dust and water and not actual cracks. The stains were gone too, and the hardware looked as though someone had installed it yesterday.

  My stomach growled, and I realized it was getting close to dinner time. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and I did not feel like cooking again. While I was supposed to be careful with my money, I reasoned that one meal at the town’s diner wouldn’t kill my budget. I swore I’d get the special. Whatever it was, as long as it was cheap and I didn’t have to cook it, I’d enjoy every bite.

  I wanted a long soak, but I also wanted to eat. So, I compromised and only filled the tub halfway. While it filled, I heated up some more of my leftover beef for the cat. A quick bath, some fresh clothes, and I was ready to hit the town.

  My car stayed in the driveway and I walked the mile or so to the town square. Dumbledore’s Diner was the only restaurant I knew of in town. Apparently the owners were super fans of a set of novels and movies about a certain kid wizard.

  I walked inside and the place was packed. There was memorabilia everywhere, and the din of dozens of conversations made me feel oddly at ease. Maybe it was because no one turned around to look at me when I walked it. Perhaps I had become old news around town already.

  “Ah fresh meat,” a man said as the door closed behind.

  I guess not.

  “Stop it right now, John,” a gorgeous woman with ebony skin and curly black hair said as she playfully slapped the man with a menu. “Welcome to Dumbledore’s Diner. I’m Keisha, and that idiot is John,” she said without a trace of malice in her voice.

  “Hey, I might be the idiot, but you married me,” he shot back. “What does that say about you.”

  “That I have infinite patience.” She smiled at him.

  “That you do, my love. That you do.”

  “Anyway,” Keisha said and turned her attention back to me. “We’re glad you dropped in. We were hoping we wouldn’t have to come out to Hangman’s House and drag you out,” she said with a chuckle. “We probably should have brought you a fruit basket or something, but as you can see, we have our hands full.” Keisha waved to the crowd of diners.

  “Is it always like this?” I asked.

  “Breakfast, lunch, and dinner,” she said. “Good thing we love it. Speaking of that, dinner is on us. It’s the least we can do since we couldn’t make it out to the house to welcome you.”

  “Thank you,” I said as she handed me a menu.

  “The only thing we’d ask if you mind sharing a table with someone?” John asked. “Otherwise it could be a while.”

  Right on cue, my stomach rumbled loudly. “I don’t mind sharing at all.”

  “Great, right this way,” Keisha said and beckoned for me to follow.

  Keisha stopped a two-top table where a woman who I guessed was about my age sat studying a menu. “I don’t know why I make myself look over the menu,” the woman said without looking up at us. “I already know what I’m going to order.”

  “Hagrid’s Haystack with a side of bacon?” Keisha asked.

  “You know it.” The woman handed Keisha the menu and finally took in that there was someone else standing beside her. “I heard your husband say there was fresh meat, but I d
idn’t know you’d be bringing her to me,” she said with a chuckle. “I’m Annika, and it looks like you’re my date for the evening.”

  “Annika, this is Brighton the new girl in town. We’re packed tonight, and I was hoping you’d share your table.”

  “Of course. Please sit with me, Brighton,” she said, and I did.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I said and opened the menu. “Looks like Hagrid’s Haystack is a full stack of pancakes. I’ll just have what she’s having,” I said and handed the menu back to Keisha.

  “A woman after my own heart,” Annika said as Keisha walked away. “You’re going to love the pancakes here. They are so buttery with this crispy edge. They are to die for.”

  My stomach responded with a rumble. “I can’t wait.”

  Red rose in my cheeks, and I was embarrassed at my body’s protest. I don’t know why I’d expected Annika to say something to embarrass me further, but she didn’t. She flashed a knowing smile, and it put me at ease immediately.

  “You won’t have to wait long. The service here is outstanding. Plus the haystack and bacon is one of the most popular specials. The keep them coming through the rush. It won’t take but a few minutes. I always end up working through lunch and I’m devastatingly famished by dinnertime,” Annika said and then switched gears. “So, you moved into Hangman’s House?”

  Brighton was about to ask her how she knew that, but then it dawned on her. “Small town.”

  “That it is. But I think it’s great that you’ve moved there. It’s such a neat old house, and it was a shame that it sat empty for so long.”

  “You’ve been inside?” I asked. Annika didn’t look old enough to have been around before Great Aunt Maude was sent off to the asylum. If she was, then she was a very young child when it happened.