The Blacker House

by Nicole Mulloy

  “I notice them and other people do too. They are dusty and cobwebby. They need to be cleaned.”

  “But I just don’t see the point!”

  “This is not a debate, Kate. You will be cleaning chandeliers today.” Mom nodded her head, as if to agree with her own statement. Kate knew this meant the discussion was over.

  It wasn’t that she hated her mother, but Kate knew that there was a definite personality conflict between them. On television, mothers and daughters laughed together and told each other about their problems. Kate often wished for a mother like that, one who would ask Kate how things were going, who would ask if Kate’s homework was done, or where she’d been all afternoon. In the Gilbert house, nobody noticed much of anything.

  Kate looked at her mother who was splashing ammonia into the bucket. Even after having five children, she was a youthful, attractive woman. Her face was feminine and soft, with large blue eyes, just like Lucy’s. Her hair was naturally very dark, but she kept it lightened to a soft brown.

  Their relationship was strained, to say the least. Her mother had a special bond with each of her other children. She was proud of Seth’s grounded common sense. She laughed at Matt’s antics and listened attentively when Lucy was depressed. She understood Marie’s insecurities and tried to make her feel special. But Kate and her mother just felt uncomfortable around each other and the older Kate got, the worse their relationship became.

  Their only conversations seemed to be complaints about Kate’s wardrobe, (“You are not going out of the house in that, young lady,”) or brief discussions about her studies at school. When they tried to venture onto to other subjects, it always ended up one of two ways. Kate would get defensive and leave or her mother would get insulted and yell.

  A troubling memory suddenly crept into Kate’s mind. On a recent morning, Kate interrupted Mom while she was applying makeup. Kate noticed that she looked sad. Kate reluctantly inquired what was wrong and was startled to see her mother wipe away a tear from her eye.

  Her mother sighed again and looked at herself in the mirror. “Don’t ever curl your eyelashes, Kate. It makes them fall out.”

  She was stunned by the unusual emotion of her mother. Kate was not used to such strange sorrow, this dismal uncertainty from such a stoic woman. Kate could only say, “okay.” She then quickly crept away, confused and saddened by the encounter.

  Remembering that, Kate felt a flash of sympathy for her mother. That quickly faded as Mom handed her the bucket, a cup and a towel. “Let’s go,” she said tersely.

  A quick demonstration followed. Mom set a ladder under the chandelier in the living room. Then, she climbed to the top, cup of ammonia water and towel in hand. “You just grab a cup of water, you dip the crystal into the water, just like that. Are you paying attention?”

  “Yes, Mom,” Kate said, attempting to hold back any sarcasm.

  “Then, you dry it with the towel. Okay? It’s all yours.” Mom climbed down from the ladder, handed Kate the cup and towel and exited the room.

  “Thanks,” Kate said dryly. Then she was left alone.

  She glanced across the entryway to the dining room where Lucy was unpacking fancy dishes and putting them into the china cabinet. All around the house, boxes were emptied, shelves were filled and pictures were nailed up onto the wall. That’s the benefit of having five kids, Kate thought. You have a team of workers to unpack and clean your house, free of charge.

  Kate climbed the ladder with her cup of water, towel over her shoulder, and went to work. After dipping the first crystal and toweling it dry, she was amazed to see the difference. While the unwashed crystals hung dusty and gray, the newly washed crystal sparkled brightly, reflecting the slanting sunlight beautifully.

  Inspired by the results, Kate dug into the work, dipping and wiping each crystal until the entire chandelier shimmered. Kate climbed down from the ladder and flicked the switch on the wall, illuminating the chandelier. She had to admit, it was beautiful.

  Bolstered, Kate climbed onto the dining room table and began cleaning that chandelier next. The work was fast and surprisingly fulfilling. When she was done, Kate turned on the electricity to that chandelier too. Shimmers of light flickered across the room.

  There was one more crystal chandelier to clean, but it would be the most challenging. It hung at the landing of the grand staircase, just in front of the stained-glass windows. Kate lugged the ladder up the stairs and set it up under the chandelier. After retrieving her supplies, Kate decided to turn on the chandelier now so she could see her work in progress, to see the grime disappear and the sparkling crystals shine. She flipped on the light. Ace followed her up the stairs and sat on the landing, watching his mistress conduct this strange ritual.

  She climbed the ladder to the chandelier then, unwisely, looked down. From her precarious perch, she could see that her ladder was merely inches from the edge of the stairs. Any sudden movement could send her toppling down the stairs to the hardwood floor below.

  Kate inhaled deeply and turned her head away from the long drop. Instead, she focused on the work at hand. Dip, wipe. Dip, wipe. Dip, wipe.

  As she finished wiping the last crystals, the ladder suddenly shuddered, like a horse shaking off a mosquito. One foot slipped from the ladder rung and Kate lost her balance entirely, and in fear of hurtling down the stairs, she grabbed at the chandelier to steady herself.

  Her hand landed directly on a smooth golden arm of the chandelier. It was strong and Kate felt secure for a split second, until she felt the intense pain on her forearm. As she gripped the chandelier, one of the small light-bulbs seared her skin. Unable to let go, lest she fall, Kate continued to hold the chandelier as the bulb burned into the soft skin of her inner arm. It was only a few seconds before Kate found her footing again, but lost it again, just for a moment, and again her arm touched the hot bulb. Finally, her foot slid securely onto the ladder rung and she let go of the chandelier, feeling searing pain. Two teardrop-shaped burns had imprinted themselves on her arm. The two teardrops joined at the tip forming a nearly perfect heart.

  She crawled down from the ladder, shaken. She ran down the stairs to the kitchen and turned on the cold water. She thrust her burned arm under the stream of water and winced.

  Mom came around the corner, dust mop in hand, and asked, “Are you already done?”

  Kate gave her a pained look. “I burned my arm,” she said with a sniffle.

  Mom walked over to the sink and inspected Kate’s heart-shaped burn. “Ouch. Keep it under the water. I’ll get you some Advil.”

  Advil was Mom’s cure-all for everything except for a sore throat. If a Gilbert had a sore throat, Mom swore by the hot-toddy, complete with a dash of alcohol. Kate hated the taste of whiskey still.

  Mom stomped upstairs to retrieve the pain reliever. Despite the pain in her arm, Kate noticed suddenly that Mom always took the grand staircase when she went upstairs. She never used the cramped back stairway, “the servants’ stairs.” A few minutes later, she came down again, by the same way.

  “The chandeliers look terrific, Kate.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Kate smiled weakly. Mom gave her a cool, wet towel to wrap around her arm, which helped.

  After downing two Advils, Kate was allowed to take a break from the Saturday duties. She walked past Marie who was shimmying a cloth around the rungs of the stairwell. The cloth was black with dust.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Marie asked Kate with a tired but sincere sneer on her face.

  “I’m done for the day, Shrimp. I’m a casualty of the war on dirt.”

  “What do you mean?” Marie asked.

  Kate showed Marie her burned arm. Without explaining the injury, Kate pushed through the doorway to the back stairs, went up to the third floor and collapsed on her bed. Ace followed her and curled up in his usual spot at the foot of the bed. She lay there, holding the wet towel on her burn.

  Something tried to toss her off that ladder. It hadn’t been un
steady. She was pushed. Kate felt a little angry about that. Patrick was right. It could be getting dangerous. For a moment, she considered what could have happened, if she hadn’t grabbed the chandelier. She would have fallen twenty feet to the floor below, probably breaking an arm. Maybe her neck.

  Kate usually didn’t take naps. She had enough trouble falling asleep at night when she was exhausted, much less when she was rested, but the warm sun was shining right on her as she lay in bed and sleep stole over her.

  8.

  “Kate, supper!” Marie yelled from the second floor.

  Kate shook her head, thick with sleep, and looked at the glowing red numbers of her clock: 7:01. She peered into the darkening bedroom, trying to recall what day it was, if it was morning or night. She remembered tumbling into bed hours ago. Gosh, she slept the whole day away.

  “Kate, did you hear me?” Marie’s voice came again from the hallway.

  “Yeah, I’ll be down in a minute,” Kate groggily answered back. She stumbled into the bathroom, emptied her bladder and splashed cold water on her face in an attempt to feel presentable. In the process, she brushed her arm against the cold porcelain of the sink and winced. The burn. She inspected it. Right in the middle of the pale, tender underside of her arm, equally distanced between her wrist and elbow, glowed a red, wrinkled, heart-shaped blister. Gross.

  She slowly plodded down the two flights of stairs to the breakfast nook, where the family always ate their meals together. It was a little tight for the seven of them, but it was much cozier than the cavernous and drafty dining room.

  Kate saw that a new pot of coffee had just been brewed. Her parents drank the stuff all day long. She poured herself a cup and headed for the table.

  “Since when do you drink coffee at six o’clock in the evening?” Mom asked, seeing Kate with the steaming cup.

  “I just woke up. Give me a break,” Kate said grumpily, taking a chair.

  “You missed the game, Kate. Nebraska won!” Dad grinned and gave her a high five. Originally from Oregon, Dad was a convert to Nebraska football. He was more fanatical than most natives.

  Her family had already dug into the meatloaf and mashed potatoes. It was nice to have cabinets full of groceries and a real meal. Kate took a chair and served herself. The Gilberts were strictly a meat and potatoes kind of family. In this house, salt and pepper were exotic spices. It was a little dull, but Kate had to admit, her Mom made one heck of a meatloaf.

  It was Saturday night, and after her long nap and cup of coffee, Kate was anxious. She’d love to go out. But where? With who? As she washed dinner dishes, she considered her options. She could call Jacob, as long as Mom and Dad didn’t know. She could see what Matt was doing, but he was probably going out with the twins.

  Her phone rang and she dug it out of her pocket with a wet and soapy hand.

  “Hey Kate, are you ready?” It was Chris Atkins. Oh yes, she remembered, a ride in Chris Adkin’s car, hot dogs, all kinds of hillbilly fun. She could hear a football game in the background.

  “Uh,” she mumbled. She really wanted to go out. Would Jacob be jealous?

  “Listen, new plans. Paul Rizzo’s having a party tonight.”

  “Paul Rizzo?”

  “He’s in our class. Hello. You don’t notice anybody but yourself, do you?”

  “Give me a break! I just moved...” She could hear Chris laughing, so she stopped defending herself and laughed too.

  “He’s having a party at his cousin’s apartment downtown. I’ll be there in a half an hour to pick you up.”

  After a shower and teeth-brushing, Kate felt better. In fact, she felt great. She changed into a thin black sweater, tenderly pulling the sleeve over her burned arm, blue jeans, and her favorite black boots.

  Kate brushed on a little makeup, just enough to cover any blemishes and bring out her green eyes. She ran a brush through her hair and slathered on some clear lip balm. It had been weeks since she’d gone out on a Saturday night, especially alone with a boy. The last time had been with Jacob. She felt a twinge of guilt, wondering what she would tell him, if anything. It’s not a date, she told herself. It’s just a ride to a party.

  She grabbed a jacket and she was ready to go. She was just getting her purse when Chris knocked at the front door. He looked great in a beige long-sleeved cotton shirt and faded jeans. His blue eyes sparkled in the low light of the foyer.

  “I’m leaving!” Kate called toward the breakfast nook, where the Mom, Dad, Lucy and Marie were playing cards. Mom appeared in the hallway.

  “Where are you going? Who’s this?” she said, looking at Chris. Mom judged most boys by the length of their hair. Chris should pass her test.

  “Hello, Mrs. Gilbert,” he said politely.

  “This is Chris Atkins. He’s in my class. We’re going to see a movie. We’ll probably get some food afterward.”

  Mom checked Chris out again. Kate could see Mom trying to hide a smile. Mom had never approved of the long-distance-relationship with Jacob, especially now that Jacob was in college. She was thinking that maybe this new boy would put an end to that. Let her think what she wants.

  “Alright. See you later,” Mom said and stepped back toward the breakfast nook.

  “Unbelievable,” Chris said, after Mom was out of sight. “That was easy.”

  “Yeah, she trusts me, for some reason. I don’t even have a curfew.”

  “No way!”

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “Like I said, she trusts me. Or maybe she doesn’t care. I don’t know,” Kate said with a shrug. “Let’s get out of here.”

  He had the top down on his Corvette. The car was insanely beautiful, silver and sleek. It looked newly waxed. She admired the gentle curves, the perfect paint job. The interior looked new.

  “This car is incredible,” she said with admiration.

  “Thanks!”

  “But I’ve got a feeling that this ride is going to mess up my hair!” Kate said, pretending to be alarmed.

  “I’d be more afraid of catching bugs in all that lip stuff you have on!” Chris said and laughed. He ran a hand through his blonde hair and smiled winningly. Kate’s felt her heart flutter a little. Boy, he is cute. She felt another pang of guilt.

  “Never poke fun at a woman’s choice of lip wear or you’ll be going to this party alone.” She tried to keep a stern face, but cracked up moments later. As he pulled away from the curb, the crisp evening air tossed Kate’s hair in every direction. She could smell a trace of fireplace smoke in the air. The first fires of the fall, she thought. Kate inhaled deeply, then shivered.

  She looked at the street signs as Chris ran a yellow light. They were entering a residential neighborhood. “Where are we going, anyway? I thought this party was downtown.”

  “I promised I’d pick up Patrick,” Chris said.

  “Hello?” Kate said, looking around the tiny two-seater. “Where is he going to sit?” She felt a little disappointed that she wouldn’t have Chris all to herself, even if this wasn’t a date.

  Chris smiled. Kate knew what that meant.

  He drove up the driveway of Patrick’s house. It was an attractive two story brick structure with a wide covered porch. Patrick came running down the stairs when he saw Chris’ headlights, his gray trench coat flapping out behind him. Kate got out of the car. Patrick looked surprised to see her.

  “Hop in,” she said. He sat down and Kate maneuvered herself in after him. She sat on his lap and swung her legs around until they were scrunched up against the gear shift. She leaned forward, her face smashed against the windshield as Patrick struggled to shut the door.

  “Y’all are just the cutest couple!” Chris said mockingly.

  “Shut up and drive,” Kate said. At least Patrick was warm. No, this was definitely not a date.

  By the time they arrived at the downtown apartment, Kate was cramping up. When Chris pulled up to the curb, she peeled herself from the car with relief. All three ran up the
stairs and in through the open door of Apartment 206.

  The tiny apartment was already thumping with music and packed with teenagers. Paul Rizzo, the host, saw them come through the door and made his way toward them. He was two years older than everybody else in their class, having been held back twice.

  Tonight, for some reason, he was shirtless. Kate noticed he had a nicely shaped chest, but it was covered with thick black hair. She guessed he was trying to impress his younger classmates with his manly, hairy chest, but it just grossed Kate out.

  “Hey, guys. Glad y’all could make it,” Paul said, plastic cup of beer in one hand and cigarette in the other. “Kegger’s over there, the bathroom’s over there.” With that, he swam away through the mass of people and was swallowed up by the crowd instantly.