1929 (9 page)

∞∞∞

“That will fade,” Caleb told her.
Overwhelming bleach odor burned Arianna’s nose. “Now that we’re
here, we can open a window for a while.”

She noticed two cracks in the windowpane
covered by masking tape. A cold burst of air filled the apartment
and began to dissipate the smell. Arianna lowered her hand from her
mouth and nose, her eyes inspecting the room. There were boxes,
crates and a few bags piled in the corner of the room.

“We patched all these holes last night, Sven
and me. I’m going to repaint the whole room so that the white
patches don’t stand out as much. These walls are impossible to
clean. It’s in much better shape than the first time I walked in
here. Definitely cleaner. There’s the kitchen,” he rambled, taking
her hand and leading her in. “Small. It has everything we need for
the most part. No electric icebox. We’ll have to get used to that.
Here’s the garbage chute.” He hoped she would notice his repair job
on the rusty door.

Her face was still set in stone as they
walked out of the kitchen, and he led her into the bathroom. “Sven
gave himself blisters scrubbing this tub. It looks a lot better . .
. .” His voice trailed off as he looked up at the round, metal ring
by the tub. The wall mounts needed reinforcing before it would hold
the weight of a towel. He added that to his mental list of things
to do. He walked out of the bathroom and around the corner to the
bedroom, towing Arianna behind.

It was a small room with no window, and a
lone light bulb hung from a wire in the center of the ceiling. A
lopsided, stained mattress on a broken frame set close to one wall.
Caleb had squeezed Arianna’s vanity in the small space left. All of
her make-up, perfumes, brushes, hats, and hair accessories were
arranged on it almost the same as they had been in their old home.
Her eyes softened when she saw it. It was a dark oak, richly
engraved vanity table with an adjustable oval mirror held up on
either side by elaborately carved wood that wound down and around
the table. Between the glass and the wooden frame, Caleb had wedged
pictures; some taken of her while on vacation, some of the two of
them taken professionally and a few postcards she had collected
from Paris. The ornate vanity looked terribly out of place in this
dreary room.

“How did you get this here?” she asked in
amazement. She hadn’t even noticed it missing this morning. Last
night, she had been rather preoccupied with other things, but this
morning she thought surely she would have noticed it missing. She
remembered waking up, putting on a dress and simply walking out of
her bedroom for the last time without looking back.

“It wasn’t easy,” Caleb said and smiled,
happy she had noticed at least some of his efforts. “Jonathan
practically had to sit on my lap in the front seat with this thing
wedged in the back.”

“Thank you for bringing it,” she
whispered.

He walked over and turned her to face him.
“Arianna, you know this is temporary, don’t you? Don’t get too cozy
because we won’t be here for long. I’m already working on three
different ideas that are going to take off like a shot and catapult
us right out of this dump.” She nodded, avoiding his eyes. “You do
believe me, don’t you, Ahna?”

“I do, Caleb. I believe you.”

He relaxed a little. “Good. I’m completely
serious. Me, Jon, and Aryl are meeting together this week, and
we’re going to get to work on a plan. With my ideas, Aryl’s
creativity and Jon’s leadership, I’ll be surprised if we’re here
past the first of the year,” he said confidently.

“I guess we should get to work putting things
away,” she said quietly, turning toward the living room.

“Hey, I’ll go down, buy some wood, and we’ll
have a fire tonight. How’s that sound?” he asked, tapping the
mantel of the ragged fireplace. Two bricks came loose from just
below the mantel and crashed down onto the hearth. Caleb sighed
heavily, adding that to his growing fix-it list.

“That sounds fine,” Arianna said, picking up
the bricks and handing them to Caleb. He wedged them back in and
hoped they would stay until he could fix them permanently. “Can we
close that window now? I’m freezing,” she said, crossing her
arms.

∞∞∞

“I tried to warn you,” Jonathan said. Ava
slowly walked from room to room. He leaned against the wall by the
front door with his hands in his pockets, staring at the floor. She
walked slowly back toward the door and stood in front of him. He
hesitated to look up at her. If she were silently crying or had a
horrified expression on her face, he didn’t know if he would be
able to stand it.

“I tried to warn you, Ava,” he repeated
quietly.

“I know. And you gave an accurate
description.” Her voice was even and calm. “I can see you worked
hard last night,” she said, looking at the white spots on the walls
and recognizing the smell of cleanser.

“It was a group effort,” he said, silently
wishing that he had thought of and organized the work party instead
of Caleb. There was a long silence as each of them stared in
opposite directions.

“Will you help me get these boxes unpacked?”
she asked, breaking the silence.

“Sure,” he said, still staring at the cracked
window.

∞∞∞

“So, I was thinking you could paint a mural
all around the fireplace,” Aryl said. “You could have the beach on
this side, and the ocean on the other. Maybe you could paint our
lighthouse right over the mantel.” Her eyes darted to him, full of
tears.

“This is why you wanted me to remember the
lighthouse?” she asked, unable to conceal her horror.

“Yes.”

“What in the world does this horrible place
have to do with our lighthouse?”

He paused a moment, taking a deep breath.
“Well, it’s sort of the same, Claire. We were so cold and hungry
that night and into the next day as well. We spent almost
twenty-four hours in that dirty lighthouse and rode out the storm
together, and we’ll ride out this storm, too. It’ll just take a
little longer, that’s all. I know it’s bad, Claire, but we can
spruce this place up. We can make it a home for the time being.
This isn’t forever, I promise. We won’t be here a day longer than
we have to be.”

She nodded and wiped her tears, thinking
about that night in the lighthouse. They were so miserable yet so
happy together. However, it had only lasted a day, and they knew
they could go back to their comfortable homes as soon as the storm
passed. She wondered when this would pass. If this would pass. She
tried to appreciate Aryl’s attitude and hoped that she hadn’t let
him down by being so upset. With a deep breath, she decided she
would show a braver face.

“I can paint the whole wall?” she asked with
a sniffle.

“Every wall in this apartment if you want,”
he said and smiled. “C’mon, let’s set up your easel. Where do you
want it? Maybe over in the corner? Or closer to the window for the
natural light?”

∞∞∞

It didn’t take long for Ava to put away the
dishes, make the lumpy bed, and cover the tattered couch with a
sheet. Neither of them said anything for the next several
hours.

“Now what do we do?” she asked. Jonathan had
returned from buying firewood and sat on the couch, which they had
moved closer to the fireplace.

“I have no idea,” he said flatly.

“I’m glad you brought the radio,” she said,
walking over to turn it on. She adjusted the tuning dial until she
found good reception.

“Maybe dinner?” he asked. “I could go out and
get something. I think the deli downstairs is still open.”

“I’m not hungry. Just get something for
yourself.”

“Nah. I’m not hungry either,” he said and
went back to staring at the fire.

∞∞∞

“Who could that be?” Claire asked from the
kitchen. Aryl shrugged. He opened the door and looked down to see a
small boy, maybe six years old with shaggy, brown hair and big,
brown eyes. He was dressed in a man’s plaid shirt, baggy and rolled
up on his tiny arms. He held a stick with a red bandana tied to it
over one shoulder and a grubby pillowcase with the other. Shoe
polish was smeared on his face to mimic a beard.

“Trick or Treat!” he yelled up at Aryl.

“Well, isn’t that cute. You’re a hobo, aren’t
you?”

“Yep!” the little boy yelled, thoroughly
proud of his costume. Claire was behind Aryl, looking at the boy
and instantly felt sorry for him.

“Poor thing. I completely forgot that tonight
is Halloween!” she said, amazed.

“Me, too,” he said, pausing to think a
minute. They hadn’t bought groceries, much less candy or treats to
give out. “Okay, I’ve got it,” he said.

He took a penny out of his pocket, put it in
the palm of one hand, and closed his fists, holding them behind his
back. The little boy giggled with excitement as Aryl held out both
fists. “Pick the hand with the penny, and you can have it,” he
said. The boy squirmed, grinning from ear to ear, trying to decide
which hand to pick. Finally, he chose the right fist. Aryl opened
it to show him an empty palm, and the little boy’s face
dropped.

“Tell you what,” Aryl said. “I’ll give you
one more chance.” The boy’s face lit up again, and he reached out
to tap Aryl’s left fist. Again, he opened it to show an empty
palm.

“You dropped it behind you!” the boy yelled
with a grin. Aryl shook his head no, reached behind the boy’s ear
and pulled out the shiny penny. He was thoroughly amazed as Aryl
dropped the penny in his grimy pillowcase.

“Oh wow!” he yelled with excitement. “Happy
Halloween!” He took off like a bullet down the hall.

“Cute kid.” He gave a light chuckle as he
closed the door. Claire stared at him, smiling.

“That was very sweet of you, Aryl. You made
him very happy.”

Aryl shrugged. “It’s bad enough for us to
have to live here. Imagine what it’s like to grow up here.”

Claire walked over and hugged him, unable to
put into words a compliment worthy of how she really felt about
him. “I seem to vaguely remember something you said last night,”
she started.

“I’m surprised you remember anything at all
from last night,” he said with a laugh. “But what do you vaguely
remember?”

“I remember you telling me that we would have
to start all over making memories in the new place. Well, we’re in
the new place. I say let’s start making those memories.”

“I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard in
days,” he growled playfully, backing toward the bedroom slowly
without letting her go.

A moment later, there was a loud pounding on
the door. He pulled his lips away from hers. “You’ve got to be
kidding me,” he groaned.

“Ignore it. They’ll go away,” Claire
whispered and quickly reclaimed his mouth. The knocking
continued.

“Lemme get rid of them, okay? Don’t go
anywhere,” he said and kissed her again.

“Where am I going to go?” she said, surveying
the tiny apartment.

Aryl opened the door to a gaggle of at least
fourteen children, all dressed up as either hobos or bed sheet
ghosts, which were the easiest and cheapest costumes in the world
to make. He laughed aloud and clapped his hands on his head.

“Hey, Claire, you’ve got to see this,” he
called. She popped her head around him and laughed as well. Aryl
looked at the original trick-or-treater. “You went and told all
your friends, didn’t you?” The little boy smiled shyly and hid
behind the group. “All right, Claire,” he sighed. “I’m gonna need
more pennies.”

She dug through her handbag, passing off
pennies and Aryl repeated the penny trick for each
trick-or-treater. After receiving their treat, each one stayed to
watch the trick repeatedly with eyes wide and excited. Then they
collectively turned and ran away.

“Tell the rest of your friends I’m out of
pennies!” Aryl yelled after them. He turned around and Claire was
right behind him.

“If anyone else knocks on this door, Aryl
Sullivan, you are going to ignore it, understand?” she asked,
kissing him before he could answer.

∞∞∞

The rag-tag group of trick-or-treaters worked
their way down the hall, knocking on every door. Outside Jonathan’s
apartment, the group knocked loudly, pulling him from his distant
stare into the fire. Opening the door, he beheld the large group of
hobos and ghosts and couldn’t help but smile ruefully.

“Trick or treat!” they shouted in unison.
Jonathan rubbed his forehead and grimaced.

“Sorry, guys, I don’t have any candy,” he
said, suddenly feeling worse than he did before. Something he
thought wasn’t possible.

They chattered as Jonathan closed the
door.

“Awww!”

“Dang it.”

“Told you so.”

“Let’s try the next floor.”

Last Halloween, he had ordered four cases of
chocolate bars from the Hershey factory and handed them out to
children in clean and adorable costumes. He decorated the walkway
elaborately and had dressed up as a pirate to pass out the bars.
After dark, he and Ava had gone to a Halloween party at Milton and
Sarah’s. His friends spared no expense and threw a fantastic party.
Jonathan looked around the shabby room before sitting back
down.

“This is definitely the scariest Halloween
I’ve ever had,” he said, setting his eyes listlessly back on the
fire.

“What was that?” Ava called from the
bathroom.

“Nothing. Where did you put the books I
packed?” he asked.

“They’re stacked by the door,” she replied
and went back to rearranging the personal items Jonathan had
unpacked. He flipped through the small stack of books. Deciding
which ones to bring with him had been difficult; he had wanted to
bring them all. He settled on bringing his favorite dozen and now
tried to decide which one to reread. He sat back down with a war
novel and tried to ignore the pounding coming from upstairs and the
loud voices of the neighbors through the thin walls. He didn’t
think that anyone lived to the left of them, not having heard a
peep from that side. But the neighbors who lived across the hall
constantly talked at a raised volume, laughed, and slammed things
around. He tuned the radio to jazz music, turned it up to drown
them out and sat back down with his book. Ava emerged from the
bathroom, smoothing her hair. “Well, that’s done. It’s not perfect,
but it will work well enough for now.” He nodded without looking
up. Another knock at the door caused him to slam down his book,
cursing.