October 31st 1929
Jonathan finished pulling the carpetbags from the trunk. He turned to Charles, extending his hand.
“Thank you for your help. Thank your brother for the use of his automobile as well,” he said, glancing back at it. He had owned one very similar to this, and he would miss it.
As Charles drove away, they noticed that people had started to gather in small groups, staring and whispering. They weren’t dressed in their best, but they were still dressed in finery that no one in this neighborhood would be wearing. Picking up the carpetbags, they began up the three flights of dirty stairs to their new homes.
∞∞∞
“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 th
e 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.
“I don’t have any damned candy,” he grumbled, swinging open the door.
An older, slightly pudgy woman with beady eyes and short, gray hair started talking before Jonathan had a chance to acknowledge her.
“Would you mind turning your radio down? If you haven’t noticed, these walls are terribly thin.” She spit the words at him and he simply stared at her. “It’s all nice and fine that you’re well off enough to own a radio but just because you own one doesn’t mean we all want to listen to it, and I hope you don’t plan on blaring that thing late into the night. My husband has enough trouble sleeping with the arthritis, and I don’t sleep well for long stretches anyway. I suffer from the anemia. I’m prone to taking naps throughout the day from weakness and that causes spotty sleep at night. It’s the draft that runs through these apartments. We’re always taking sick with that draft carrying sickness from one apartment to the next. I hope you’re clean people. I don’t want any sickness floating across the hall. You got a wife?” she asked, trying to peek past him. Ava was hiding behind the door, trying to suppress her laughter. “If you do, I hope she’s good at keeping a clean home. I could come over and help
her, I suppose. I know how to clean proper and could give her some pointers, make sure it’s done right. And I hope she don’t cook with a lot of spices. Strong smells and spices tend to make my stomach turn–”
Jonathan slowly closed the door as she continued to ramble. “Dear God.” He couldn’t help but laugh. “Avoid that one at all costs.”
“Did she even take a breath?” Ava asked.
“I have no idea. But if there’re folks on our other side, too, I’m almost afraid to meet them now.”
∞∞∞
“Wow, that was . . . .” Aryl fell back on the bed, wiping sweat from his forehead.
“Yeah, I know,” Claire replied breathlessly.
“A hell of a way to start off the memories,” Aryl said, grinning. They stared at the cracks in the plaster ceiling, listening to the unfamiliar noises of the new building. When the idea came to Aryl, he sat straight up in bed. “That’s perfect! Claire, I need your help,” he said as he got out of bed and began digging through her bag.
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