by Karen Glista
“I do, really, especially the Joy perfume. I’ve never smelled anything like it. I’m in love,” she said, suddenly overwhelmed by it all.
“It makes me happy, that you’re happy,” Makayla whispered as their eyes ricocheted off each other. “Happy Birthday.”
Donja dropped her head.
“What’s wrong?” Makayla asked.
Donja raised her head. “You referred to me as your sister and I…I guess that had to be the greatest gift I have received today.”
Makayla stared ahead at the road. Finally, she said. “I’m just damaged enough by my seventeen years of living to know that a sister, someone I can trust, who won’t desert me or judge me, but accepts me for who I am is exactly what I need.” She stopped for a red light. “Perhaps I’m crazy,” she said, “God knows the shrinks say it’s a given, but I think you need it as well, Donja.”
Silence settled upon them, until finally Donja whispered, “Sisters, hmm, I think you’re right…about needing one,” she added, “and I like it.” She smiled. “Sisters to the end.”
Makayla snapped her eyes to Donja. “Cross your heart and hope to die?”
“Absolutely,” Donja said, a car horn behind them blasting as the light turned green. They sped away, cloaked in emotion. Minutes later Makayla braked and killed the engine beside the customs booth. Two uniformed attendants approached.
“What’s happening?” Donja asked, alarmed.
“They have to check all items coming back to the U.S.,” she answered popping the trunk. She got out and curious, Donja did as well.
Standing at the back of the car while the customs officer sorted through all her new clothing and shoes, two guys in a Camaro parked in the next aisle whistled. Makayla peeked up from the trunk and saw them ogling Donja.
“Looks like I accomplished my goal,” Makayla beamed.
Donja cocked her head. “Meaning what?”
“You’re a vamp.”
~~~
When Donja and Makayla arrived home, the workers’ vans were still present. Donja didn’t fail to notice every head turn as they headed for the door, her six-inch pumps clicking on the cobblestone walk. Past the jamb with the hardwood floors creaking like an intruder alarm, they entered the kitchen.
Lisa spun with a big smile which instantly faded as she locked her eyes on Donja. After a moment, Lisa raised her hand to her mouth, the box of birthday candles she was holding forgotten as it crashed to the floor. Tears welled in her eyes and without a word, she crossed the expanse of the kitchen with open arms and they fell together in a tight hug. Finally, snared by emotions, Lisa pulled back and they shared a look. She raised her finger and gently touched her cheek. “Honey,” she sobbed. “I’m in shock. Look at you. So beautiful, my goodness. It took a minute to realize it was you.”
“It’s me,” Donja beamed. “Gothiglam,” she said with a wobble, “but as you can see, I haven’t quite mastered these spiked heels.”
“Holy smoke,” Carson said as he and Frankie walked into the kitchen with birthday balloons. “I’m going to have to hire a bodyguard to watch over the two of you.”
“Is that you, Donja?” Frankie asked with a puzzled look on his face.
Everyone laughed.
Lisa wrung her hands. “Dinner won’t be ready for another hour and afterward we’ll have cake and ice cream, but now seems as good a time as any for gifts.”
“Gifts, my gosh, I’ve already had so much.”
“Well, there’s more,” Lisa said, unable to control her eyes which seemed drawn to Donja. She snatched a package off the counter. “Happy birthday from Grandma Anna.”
Donja tore at the wrapping paper, then opened the box. She shed the tissue paper all eyes on her as she pulled a brass picture frame from inside. “It’s my dad,” she said, her face suddenly serious.
“Grandma came across it recently and thought you would love it,” Lisa replied softly.
“I do,” Donja said, her finger softly brushing the glass over his face. “Where was this?”
“It was taken outside of his school in Benton Harbor, the day he graduated.”
“Wow, he’s really handsome and you look just like him,” Makayla said, gazing over her shoulder.
“Thank you,” Donja said, her eyes moist. “I’ll call Grandma and thank her, this means the world to me.”
Lisa smiled offering up another gift. “This one’s from me and Frankie.”
Donja lay the picture down then ripped the paper on the small package to find a velvet jewel box. She flipped it open and her eyes widened. “Oh, Mom, they’re beautiful.”
“Frankie picked them out,” Lisa smiled.
Donja gave Frankie a hug. “Thanks bro, I love them.”
“They’re real,” Frankie gushed.
“What’s real, what is it?” Makayla asked.
Donja held it high. “Diamond stud earrings.”
“Nice.”
“And last, though it’s not wrapped,” Carson said as he dug in his pocket, helium balloons drifting away as he extended his hands with car keys dangling. “Your new ride.”
Donja, completely ambushed by escalating emotions following a birthday like none other, felt her eyes grow wet with tears. “Thank you,” she sniveled dabbing with a bent finger as a tear coursed her cheek. “Thank you, all.”
Secrets from the Past
Donja and Makayla were playing around with their makeup kits atop Makayla’s bed, listening to Taylor Swift on the radio.
“You know, I like your music, or should I say it’s growing on me, but you have got to hear some of my Goth CDs,” Donja said.
“Sure, anytime,” Makala grinned. “I like all music, well, almost all.”
“Me too,” Donja said, “I’m a Gaga and Rihanna fan, I’m just partial to goth, especially—”
Makayla’s phone rang cutting her words short.
Makayla answered. “Oh hi, Mrs. Boyet.”
Silence and Donja noticed Makayla’s brows furrow.
“No, I haven’t,” Makayla mused.
Silence.
“Okay, I will, goodbye.”
She dropped her phone to the bed. “That was Heather’s mom. It seems Becky and Heather went out last night just as planned but neither of them came home.”
Donja spiked her brows. “What?” What happened?”
“I’m not sure.” Makayla frowned. “Maybe they ran into Matt, Heather’s boyfriend, and took off partying. I bet they probably got wasted and are sleepin’ it off,” she smiled nervously.”
“You look concerned.”
“Yeah, I am.” Makayla frowned. “Matt’s not happy about Heather leaving and she was going to tell him last night that she’s pregnant.”
“Oh my God!” Donja said with a hand to her mouth. “She out getting wasted and she’s pregnant?”
“I was just speculating, but it wouldn’t surprise me. She’s not very stable right now, the move, the pregnancy. Oh well, I’m sure they will be home soon. I just hope Heather still intends to party with us tonight ’cause it’s her last night in town. I want it be special.”
“Special yes, but no booze,” Donja mumbled.
A knock at the door silenced their conversation as they both turned blank faces to the door.
Silence, followed by another knock.
“It’s probably Frankie to tell us dinner’s ready,” Donja mouthed.
“Why are you whispering?” Makayla asked.
“Because this house spooks me out.”
Makayla laughed, then got up, strutting for the door. She turned the knob and it creaked.
Donja listened, unable to see who was there.
“Hello, I’m Stan Strzyzykowski,” a masculine voice wafted. “I’m the foreman for the construction crew. I don’t mean to disturb you, but no one’s downstairs and we are about to leave for the day.”
“Hmm, well I’m sure my dad’s here somewhere.” Makayla assured him.
“Could you just give him a message, please.�
��
“Sure.”
“Let him know that we were ripping out a wall to install the plumbing and uncovered a hidden staircase that goes to an enclosed attic. Ask him if wants to keep it open or seal it back off.”
“I’ll let him know,” Makayla said as Donja slid off the bed and joined her side.
They shared a look as Stan took his leave.
“Mom and Carson must have taken Frankie and Maestro for a stroll on the river before dinner,” Donja said.
“A hidden attic. How bizarre,” Makayla whispered.
“Yeah, straight out of a horror movie.”
“I wonder what they were hiding up there?”
Donja shivered.
“Wanta check it out?” Makayla asked.
“Hmmm, I guess,” Donja answered, reluctance dancing in her eyes, “but shouldn’t we wait for your dad, just in case it’s—”
“Haunted,” Makayla interrupted, exaggerating her eyes.
“Yeah, there might be ghosts up there,” Donja blurted.
“Seriously. You don’t believe in ghosts, do you?”
“Maybe, you said yourself; this place is haunted!”
“Scaredy-cat.” Makayla teased.
Donja twisted her face. “Maybe I am, but this kind of Freddy Krueger stuff freaks me out.”
“I’ll be with you. Come on, I’m curious.”
Donja sighed. “All right, let’s do it.”
Out into the hallway they took the stairs to the third floor which was under heavy construction. Lumber was stacked on one wall in a narrow sitting room with two huge rooms on both sides. Sheets of clear polyethylene hung over the doors as a dust protector. Pushing past the clear barriers, with Makayla in the lead they spied the wall in question. Approaching the dark opening with the smell of dust and freshly cut boards permeating the air, they paused, bodies pressed tight, eyes riveted. Makayla peeked around the wall, Donja holding on to her arm. “It’s dark up there.”
“Here. Use my phone light,” Donja said, offering it up.
“Good idea.”
With the phone in hand, following a thin trajectory of light, they slowly climbed the narrow stairs. Swiping at spider webs Donja stumbled, saved from a fall by clutching a thin iron bannister.
“You okay?” Makayla whispered, turning the light, which made Donja squint.
“Yeah, but I’m scared and I’m not ashamed to admit it. I don’t like this kind of stuff.”
“So, are you coming, or not?”
“Yeah, I’m coming,” Donja scoffed. “But if something gets us don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Makayla laughed, once more following the trajectory of light up the narrow passage. At the top, they couldn’t stand, for the roof was only four feet high.
“This is too scary,” Donja whispered, grasping Makayla’s arm. “Damned creepy,” she mumbled, peering around Makayla’s body at an intricate maze of spider webs, dust covered boxes, an old spinning wheel and several stacks of what looked like birch parchments. She took a deep breath as the musty odor of dirt and rat droppings settled upon them.
“Listen,” Makayla said. “Do you hear that?”
“What?” Donja gasped with a knee-jerk reaction, grasping her tighter.
“The silence, it’s almost palpable.”
“Stop that!”
Makayla giggled.
“Can we go now?” Donja whispered as the musty odor turned pungent, “there’s mice up here, I can smell them.”
“No, I want to see what’s in those boxes, and look, back there on the edge against the roof. There’s a big trunk. Come on,” she said, as she dropped to hands and knees. With the phone light firm between her teeth, she crawled, swiping at spider webs. Reaching the boxes, Makayla set the phone on the floor and wiped at the top of a box, dust particles floating in the light.
Donja sneezed.
Makayla shrieked. “You scared the crap out of me!”
“Thought you weren’t scared,” Donja sneered as she dragged a breath, her index finger under her nose.
“I put up a good front,” Makayla said dismissively, as she proceeded to open a large box.
Donja drew her head back all but expecting a horned demon with a maw full of teeth.
Silence followed with Donja waiting for a scream which never came. She exhaled as Makayla pulled out a couple of antique candelabras from the box.
“No way,” Donja gushed, suddenly enthralled, “those look like solid gold.”
“I think you’re right, they weigh a ton and there’s at least thirty or more in this box.” Makayla opened another box which contained golden chalices and antique silverware.
Curiosity stifled fear and Donja grasped a box and opened it. She dropped her hand softly touching what looked like an antique picture frame. She pulled it out of the box and realized there were others, stacked one upon another. In the dim light, she wiped at the cracked glass which revealed a woman, as best she could see who was dressed in a wedding gown standing on what looked like the front steps of Hampton Manor. A second frame revealed a different woman, also in a wedding gown outside what looked like an ancient, one room church.
“Look at this,” Makayla said as she held up hand drawn pictures on what looked like birch bark. Donja cast her eyes to the faded picture of a beautiful woman with braided hair, dressed in buckskin with beads. Makayla found others, at least ten or more, all of which were women of Indian descent.
“Chippewas?” Donja asked.
“Must be.” Makayla said.
Now shackled by curiosity, far outweighing her fear, Donja opened another box, the inside stuffed with newspaper. Beneath the packing she found a tattered book. She took it out and slowly opened it. “Hey look, it’s an old wedding album.” She turned the pages looking at picture after picture, but the lighting was dim, and she couldn’t make out the faces. Another box contained a wedding gown, so old that it crumbled like ashes when Donja touched it. Beneath the gown, she found a swatch of brown curly hair which had been cut from someone’s head and tied in leather. Examining it closely in the light, she noticed the letters L.C.N. etched on the leather.
“Let’s check the trunk,” Makayla said, crawling away on hands and knees.
Donja, debating which was more terrifying, to be left alone in the dark or to follow Makayla into the bowels of hell contemplated for about a second. She suddenly took off after her, expecting the worst was yet to come. She crowded in close, glancing around in the darkness as Makayla swiped at a layer of dust and spider webs atop the ornate chest with carved lion heads on the top. It was huge and all but monopolized one wall.
“It looks more like a casket than a chest,” Makayla whispered as she gripped the grooved edge and lifted on the lid. It creaked eerily and then with it halfway open, she flashed the trajectory of light inside.
“Just dirt with what looks like rotted clothing,” she said.
“Are you sure?” Donja asked peering inside. She sat back. “Why would someone take the trouble to build a hidden attic to store antique gold candelabras, pictures, a wedding album, a rotted wedding gown, a band of hair, and a trunk with two inches of dirt?”
“Maybe because it was their safe and maybe it’s not dirt in that trunk. Maybe it’s the remains of a body, ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” Makayla said with a haunting voice.
“Phew! It stinks,” Donja stuttered.
Makayla closed the lid.
“Wow, I was just kidding but maybe it is a decomposed body.”
“Shut your mouth!” Donja blurted.
“Just saying,” Makayla retorted.
“I’m done,” Donja said, her teeth chattering. “I’m getting out of here.”
“Fine, but let’s take the album and the box of old pictures downstairs so we can get a better look. Dad can come up after dinner and get the gold, if that’s what it really is.”
They turned to leave and Donja’s knee hit something hard. “Ouch!” she screeched as Makayla turned the light to reveal an orna
tely crafted bronze jewelry box. Donja lifted the lid while Makayla held the light. “Wow,” Donja breathed rummaging through antique jewelry, arrowheads, old coins and a gold wedding band with the initials Z.M. on the inside.
“Bring it with,” Makayla said, shaking her head, fingers swatting her locks. “Damn,” she hissed, “I think I have a spider in my hair. Let’s get the heck out of here.”
~~~
After Donja and Makayla changed their clothes, covered in thick dust and spider webs, they once more set upon the task of exploring their finds. Donja took out the jewelry, some of which appeared to be made of pewter, or brass, some woven leather with polished rock ornaments. She discovered a tarnished locket and inside a faded picture that appeared to be a baby, or perhaps a doll. She turned it over and over in her hand, captured by something she couldn’t put her finger on. “I want this,” she mumbled, “I’ll have to get a new chain, but I love it.”
Makayla took it in her hand. “It’s really old, but you’re right, it’s beautiful. I think it’s silver but it’s hard to tell.
A knock on the door forced them both to jump. The door creaked open and Lisa stuck her head inside. “Dinner’s ready.”
“Mom, come look what we found,” Donja said as Makayla began to explain about the hidden attic found by the workers.
Lisa examined the jewelry. “This is authentic Indian jewelry as best I can tell and the other looks French, perhaps German.” She looked at the wedding album. “Hmm, these dresses are old. Notice the high collars. Back then women weren’t allowed to show their necks.” Suddenly she closed it and wiped at her hands as if she were contaminated. “Come on, girls, let’s have dinner.”
“But, Mom, we found candelabras up there and we think they’re solid gold.”
“Solid gold? Lisa smirked sarcastically. “That’s a pipe dream if I ever heard one. Now come on, both of you, dinner’s getting cold.”
~~~
After a fine roast beef dinner with asparagus, corn and homemade yeast rolls, Lisa brought in the cake. Donja blew out her candles with a little help from Frankie, and then as a rosy blush warmed her cheeks, she covered her face laughing while they sang happy birthday. After cake and ice cream, Donja and Makayla washed the dishes while the rest of the family went to investigate the hidden attic.