Housewarming

by Jennifer Bowen

  Startled, she turned her back on it. “Come on, guys.”

  “I’m hungry,” Jack whined.

  Kara looked down the road. A handful of people walked by, enjoying the mild day. “Okay, let’s get something to eat.” She steered them across the street to Happy Cones. The air-conditioned diner was snug, offering a long bar, four square, black-and white checkered tables that took up much of the floor space, and booths lining the perimeter. Sitting at a corner booth, eating sandwiches and fries, Kara read over the headlines of the old newspapers plastered to the walls that stretched to the ceiling, as Jack and Lilah blew straw wrappers at each other.

  She craned her neck, reading a page stretched along the wall behind the kids. “Grace Township Hero Home from Overseas,” the headline read. A yellowed image of a smiling young man in Navy service dress shook hands with a man in horn-rimmed glasses, wearing a business suit. The caption read, “Mayor Snell welcomes hero home.” She skimmed over the article and read a few others before turning to the wall beside her. Looking up, she squinted at the top headline, barely making out some of the words, “Museum Suspects Drowning in Centuries Old Mystery.”

  Jack interrupted her reading by asking for ice cream.

  “Sure,” Kara replied, turning to her wallet and handing him cash. “You can order it at the front counter.”

  The kids took off. Kara was piling discarded wrappers onto a plate when the bell over the door tinkled. She and Shannon, the blonde she had met at Garden Cafe, spotted each other at the same time.

  “Hi!” Shannon said, approaching.

  “Hi, how are you?”

  Shannon smoothed her hands down the sides of her pencil skirt. “I’m good. I just came to grab lunch.”

  Kara laughed, asking, “Did you walk here?”

  “I work close to town, a couple blocks from here.”

  “I know. I remember you saying you can walk, but would rather drive.”

  Remembering their earlier conversation, Shannon nodded and chuckled. “Believe it or not, I drove. I know, I know. I need to walk more.” Still smiling, Shannon pointed at the counter to where Jack and Lilah sat on stools. “Are those your kids?”

  “Yeah, Jack and Lilah.”

  “Oh, nice.”

  “Do you have kids?”

  “No. I think Tom and I’ll get married soon, but I don’t know if we’re the parent type. But you never know. Maybe someday.”

  “You still have time to decide.” Kara grabbed her purse, standing.

  “Have you guys started working on repairs yet?”

  “It’s slow-going. Did Tom call John?” If he had, John hadn’t told her, but she hadn’t seen much of him the past few nights. He had returned to work, but headed in much earlier now that they lived farther away, and came home later too. He also spent the evenings working in his home office directly after dinner.

  “I think so. Tom’s wrapping up the job he’s been on, but he’s anxious to have another lined up.”

  Kara saw something, perhaps worry, pass over Shannon’s face, but it was quick and Shannon was smiling again. “I’ll give Tom a friendly reminder to call if he hasn’t.” She picked up her ordered lunch, said hello to Jack and Lilah, and with a wave, left the parlor.

  After ice cream, the Tamesons returned to their car, theirs now the only one parked in Grace School’s lot. Kara opened the driver’s side door, pausing to look up at the brick house next door. Her eyes drifted to the upstairs windows, as if challenging the person from before to reappear. But the lacy curtains were lifeless. She glanced at the windows on the first floor and then the double doors, but spied no one.

  When they got home, the kids changed into swimsuits and got into the pool. Kara relaxed on the deck, easing back onto the chaise lounge.

  “We need to get you swimming lessons, Lilah,” she called, but Lilah, floating contentedly in the inner tube, didn’t hear.

  Kara turned her attention to beach towels piled on the floor beside her. She reached over to unfurl the heap, but as she did so, something fell from it with a thump. Twisting downward, she saw Lilah’s statue teetered from the fall. She frowned, looking at the carved eyes, bulging from their clay sockets. The girl and frog were ugly. She wondered if she would’ve been fond of it when she was a little girl, seen something lovely in it. Children saw things differently.

  Looking at the adjoined frog, a cold sensation crept into her. It was as if it stared at her, saw her. Repulsion came over her; she didn’t want to look at the statue anymore, didn’t want to touch it. She laid it face-down again on the floor, dropping the towel back over it.

  Goggles clamped over his eyes, Jack swam underwater toward Lilah’s dangling legs. Pretending he was a shark, he pulled on one of them, making her squeal and kick violently at him. He swam away as fast as he could before popping above the surface.

  “Jack, leave your sister alone!” Kara hollered.

  He plunged down again, staying at the far end of the pool. He came up for air and went under again, trying to sit on the floor. Bobbing right back up, he broke through the water, hearing Lilah singing a song from the radio, most of the words nonsensical. He went under again. He didn’t stay down for long, because water had seeped into the plastic lining of the goggles, shooting into his nose and eyes. He jumped up, coughing, dragging the face mask off.

  “Are you alright?” Kara called.

  “Yeah.” He laid the goggles on the pool’s ledge. He squeezed his nose with his thumb and index finger, swimming underwater again, back toward Lilah’s lax legs. At the last second, he swooped sideways, narrowly passing her. He bobbed up and gulped air, then sank down. Underwater again, he passed her, swimming nearly to the far end.

  He hopped up again, took in a deep breath, and was under again. This time, he spotted something stringy and yellow. He jerked his head back, trying to avoid the loose tentacles coming toward him. The water had turned murky and he could no longer find his way to his sister’s legs. He saw the affronting yellow strands, though, inches from his face.

  Was it string?

  He paddled his arm in front of him, knocking it away. When he came up for air, he saw Lilah was still singing.

  His mom was reaching over the pool ladder, ushering the inner tube toward her. “Lilah’s getting out,” she said, noticing him.

  “Do I need to get out too?”

  “We’ll sit out to dry, so you can swim for about ten more minutes.”

  He swam around, but accidentally kicked the side of the pool, knocking his goggles in. As they sank, he tried to get a hold of the plastic head strap, but he was too slow and they dropped to the floor. He gulped in air and went under, into the murky water again. Chlorine stung his eyes. His vision limited, he felt along the floor for the goggles and when he started to buoy up, he forced himself down. His fingers wiggled until they struck something smooth. He closed his hands over the solid object. Automatically, he registered this wasn’t the plastic texture of his goggles.

  The water pushed against his eyes as he widened them to glimpse what he had found. He pulled on the rounded object as the back of his head crashed up through the water’s surface. The object, peachy and large, moved under his grip. He held tight for a moment, until he recognized what it was; he wasn’t alone in the pool. The rounded object was someone’s shoulder…and it wasn’t his mom or his sister’s.

  Blonde wisps of hair billowed toward him. He gasped, releasing his grip and jumped up.

  “All done?” Kara asked, her voice mixing with frantic bird chirping. It sounded like a pet shop or the bird exhibit at the zoo. His eyes went to the white sky, his shoulders near his ears, as if expecting a murder of crows to descend upon him. But he saw none, just heard chaos ensuing from the trees.

  He ignored his mother, hustling instead to the ladder. He grasped onto a rung, and then with all of the courage he could muster, plunged his head back down into the water. It was too hazy to see beyond a few feet ahead of him. Holding his breath for as long as he could, he looked
around, not daring to let go of the ladder.

  But there was nothing, just water. Nothing floated near him. Nothing came for him. Even the blonde strands were gone.

  He straightened and climbed out. His voice quiet, he explained, “I dropped my goggles in the water.”

  “That’s okay.” Kara replied. “They’ll be fine.”

  He stepped up onto the deck, looking over the surface of the blue pool, the ripples already slowing. He saw nothing in the water; even his goggles hid.

  Kara wrapped a towel around his shoulders. He pulled it tight, shivering. He wasn’t sure, and he definitely wasn’t going to get closer to see better, but he thought he saw strands of blonde hair caught in the top screw of the ladder, waving in the breeze.

  * * *

  John came home that evening as Kara was clearing dishes from the kitchen table. He dropped his keys on the counter, but his laptop bag remained slung over his shoulder.

  “Well, hello there,” she said, setting the dirty plates beside the discarded keys. “You just missed dinner.”

  “I didn’t realize how late it was.”

  “How was the drive?” she asked, glancing at the microwave clock.

  “It wasn’t that bad. I had to stay a little late.”

  “Are you hungry? We had chicken.”

  “That sounds good. I’m going to eat in the office. I need to finish something for work.” He made himself a plate of leftovers and left the room as she loaded the dishwasher.

  When she was done in the kitchen, she grabbed a can of cola and went into the office, setting the pop on John’s desk. She asked without preamble, “Do we have a plan of action for these renovations?” Every day she passed under the brass chandelier, ignored the unusable rooms, and scowled at the stained ceiling in her bathroom. She was anxious to be fully settled. “We ran into Shannon today. Her boyfriend will be ready to start work soon. John?”

  “One sec. I just need to finish one thing.” He was typing something on the computer keyboard.

  She sat in the chair opposite his desk and waited, looking around. The white walls were still bare and there were two half-filled cardboard boxes sitting in the far corner of the room next to a clunky, gray filing cabinet that was missing two drawer faces. She had thought they were going to toss it. Although John tended to work easily in messes, she planned to keep the rest of the house tidy.

  “Are you ready to get your hands dirty on some repairs?” he asked when he was done, easing back in his chair.

  “I’m ready to hire somebody. Did anyone call you?”

  “Nope. You posted an ad online, right?”

  “Yeah, it’s been a few days. Tom is supposed to call you, Shannon’s boyfriend.”

  “Oh, wait. He did call.”

  “John!”

  “Sorry, I forgot. We’re going to set up a time when he can come out for a quote.”

  “Can you remember now if anyone else called?” she asked, mockingly.

  He shook his head. “Just the one so far. But that’s okay. I can do some of the work on the weekends. The easier stuff.” His eyes twinkled.

  “Like replacing light bulbs?”

  “Mm-hmm.” His computer beeped then, stealing his attention.

  “Where is it?” The woman’s voice from the shadows was soft and pleading.

  “Why do you want it?” The man, also hidden, asked. His tone was gentle as he reasoned, “It’s nothing, a lump of stone.”

  Kara was surrounded by a gray mist, but she might as well have been in a black hole for all she could see.

  “Please. It’s mine,” the invisible woman said. “It reminds me of her.”

  After a moment, the man said, with obvious distaste, “I always loathed that thing.”

  Kara woke up.

  Chapter Seven

  Two weeks passed and with it John’s work hours steadily increased, taking away any available time to meet with Tom. One afternoon, Kara searched DIY how-tos online, keen on attacking something, no matter how small the project, but it was done in vain. She eventually gave up, not having the experience or confidence to attempt any projects on her own.

  She had adapted to avoiding the empty rooms and pretending the tacky chandelier didn’t exist. Instead, she spent the weeks preparing the kids for school. She thought Jack seemed apprehensive, but he didn’t admit to it. Lilah seemed oblivious she’d be spending Monday through Friday mornings in pre-K, away from her family. Kara stayed positive on the surface, shopping with them for new clothes and school supplies, but she had butterflies in her stomach, absorbing the stress she imagined they kept hidden.

  When Jack’s first day of school arrived, Kara, a bundle of nerves, observed him as he brushed his teeth and got ready, searching for any hint of anxiety. He shrugged off all of her words of encouragement. No, he didn’t need help picking out clothes; no, he didn’t want anything special for breakfast; no, he didn’t need her to walk him down the driveway to wait for the bus.

  He let her take a picture of him at the front door and she watched from the office window as he made his way down the driveway. He waved at her when he was at the bottom of the hill. Her stomach in knots, Kara was glad that at least he didn’t have to wait long for the bus to arrive.

  She still had one child at home, since Lilah started pre-K the next day. The house already seemed empty and Kara wished Lilah hadn’t chosen that day to sleep in later than normal. She forced herself not to wake her.

  Restless, Kara sat in the great room and pulled out her cellphone. Her mother had texted her sometime within the last twelve hours.

  Kara, call me.

  She tapped her mother’s name, calling her. When it went straight to voicemail, Kara texted, What’s up?

  She waited for her message to go through, but the status bar on the phone’s window showed the message had stopped. A moment later, she got a message telling her the text had failed to send. She tried to resend it, but got the same error.

  “Hi, Mommy,” Lilah appeared in the room, cradling the statue in her arms.

  “Well, good morning there, Lilahbean,” Kara said, a little too cheerfully. She set down her phone, asking, “Do you want eggs? Jack started school today.” She threw in the last bit as a reminder, but judging by her response, Lilah didn’t seem fazed by it.

  “Cereal.” Lilah plopped down onto a kitchen chair, standing the statue on the table.

  Kara went into the kitchen. “So, what do you want to do today? It’s just you and me. If it’s hot today, we can go swimming.”

  “Okay.” Lilah tipped back the statue, looking it over.

  Kara frowned. Was it awful she found Lilah’s attachment to it irritating? “Have you given it…her…a name?” Kara asked, setting down a bowl of cereal and a glass of milk.

  Lilah stood the statue upright and picked up her spoon. “I dunno.”

  “You don’t know if you’ve given her a name?” Kara chuckled, not really feeling any humor in it. “You either have or you haven’t.”

  “No.” Lilah took a bite of the frosted Os.

  “That’s okay. I didn’t name all my dolls growing up either,” Kara replied, good-naturedly, even if she was pretty sure that wasn’t true. But, she allowed herself, it was probably best Lilah hadn’t named it; maybe that would mean less of an attachment, and that would make it easier to throw away…

  It’s just because you know the statue isn’t a plaything, Kara made the excuse in her head. It’s not supposed to be a toy.

  But, if anything, it was teaching Lilah how to take care of something, and she took very good care of it.

  After breakfast, Kara watched Lilah ride her tricycle up and down the front sidewalk for a while before they moved to the lawn to blow bubbles. At lunchtime, Kara laid out a quilt on the deck for a picnic.

  “Do you want to swim?” Kara asked when they had finished eating. The last two weeks had been cool, so the pool had been forgotten. But summer had made a comeback that August afternoon; the temperature was quickly risin
g into the upper eighties.

  “Okay,” Lilah said, yawning.

  “Or maybe a nap is a better idea. We can swim when Jack gets home.”

  “I don’t want a nap!” Lilah picked up her spoon and dropped it into a bowl of barely-touched pudding. Chocolate sprayed on her clothes and cheek.

  “Whoa!” Kara stood up, pulling Lilah to her feet. “It’s definitely naptime.”

  “I’m not tired!” Lilah tugged against Kara’s grip until she had freed her arm. As she snatched the statue, the ends of her hair dipped into the pudding.

  “Lilah!” Kara grabbed Lilah’s hand and led her inside the house. “Now you’re taking a bath and then going to sleep.”

  Lilah didn’t protest, following Kara’s lead upstairs.

  “You can’t act like this, especially after the nice day we had,” Kara said, turning on the tub faucet.

  Lilah set the statue carefully on the sink counter and undressed. She climbed into the tub and turned her eyes upward on Kara. The little girl asked, a soft lilt to her voice, “No Sophie?”

  Sophie.

  Kara snatched her hand from the faucet, as if she’d been burned.

  “Mommy?”

  Kara demanded, as if her daughter had sworn at her, “What did you say?”

  “No Sophie? In the bath?”

  Uncomprehending, Kara glanced down at the clear water and back at the innocent face looking up at her. “No…” Kara shook her head slowly and then forced herself to repeat it, “Sophie?” Had she heard right?

  “Sophie! Sophie water! I want bubbles! Can’t I have bubbles, Mommy?”

  “Bubbles?” Kara mumbled. She mulled it over, her head spinning. She sat down on the toilet lid, seeing a pale face with blue lips.

  “Mommy?” Lilah asked with a whine. “Why not? Bubbles!”

  Kara double-blinked. “You want bubbles?” Her mind was clearing. “Do you mean you want the water to be soapy?”