Ropes in the Attic

by Edward Flora

  Tony’s demeanor shifted. The events surrounding Leida had clearly taken their effect on him as well. Even years later, he was still feeling the aftershocks. Peter dared not pry any further than Tony was willing to tell.

  “I just never had the heart to remove anything from upstairs after”— Tony choked back tears. “I just left things the way they were.”

  Tony handed the photo back to Peter.

  “No,” Peter started. “It belongs here. With you.” A scent of old wax wafted in the air for the briefest of seconds. Peter hesitated. “Maybe I shouldn’t ask…but would you mind if I spent some time upstairs to work? I enjoy being here. It might even bring some inspiration.”

  “You’re more than welcome to use any part of the shop, Peter,” Tony said. “It’s your prerogative but I don’t think you’d want the kind of inspiration Leida has to offer.”

  SEVENTEEN

  “We should take a jog together,” Dani suggested, tugging on a pair of sneakers. “I’ve had such a busy week teaching I never had a chance to explore town.”

  “Yes! We can get lunch after too, on the water. I know the perfect place!” Peter jumped at the idea, getting them both ready and out of the door as quick as he could.

  They kept a brisk pace towards town using a more scenic route than the one Peter had used over the past week. The route provided a spectacular view of the Hudson River. The water remained especially calm on this day. They could almost see the top of Manhattan, just beyond the horizon. The city where they met still held a significant place in their lives. Peter looked at Dani and they smiled at each other, both feeling that New York was giving them a nod.

  “So, did you know the woman who lived in the house before us was a writer too?” Peter said to Dani in between sharp exhales.

  “No, that’s really interesting,” she said while keeping pace.

  “Right? She was friends with Tony too. Weird…Over this way,” Peter pointed towards the restaurant sitting on the water.

  “Did Tony tell you to stay out of the attic too?” she half-joked. She really did want him to stay out of the attic. Peter chuckled as he led her to a table outside.

  They sat overlooking the Hudson River. The restaurant, located exactly at the edge of Piermont, could easily be swallowed whole by the water, had the river deemed fit. Despite that looming possibility, the views were well worth it. Off in the distance, the mountains made the dinner guests feel like ants.

  Being there certainly put into perspective how small people were. Compared to the grandness of nature, they were just but a speck. Part of a bigger picture, but a speck nonetheless.

  Peter and Dani sat across from one another while they waited for their waffles and eggs benedict to arrive. As a reward for their first jog together in Rockland County, they agreed to splurge a little bit on brunch. Dani spoiled herself further and ordered a mimosa. Peter stuck with his coffee.

  Dani pulled a slip of paper out of her jacket pocket, sliding it across the table to Peter.

  “I can’t believe you still have that,” he said overjoyed by Dani’s sentiment.

  On the table between the two lay a drawing. Peter had drawn it for Dani before they were together.

  “This is a part of our history,” she replied. “Of course I kept it. I held onto everything you gave me.”

  “But we weren’t even together yet.”

  Peter recalled the Spring semester they became friends. They would spend all their free time in between classes with one another. Spending time together in the library studying for classes they didn’t even share. Any excuse just to be around one another.

  Peter had fallen for her fast. Dani knew this. The origin of the drawing had happened at the table they shared every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon. While they sat across from each other in the corner of the school library studying and scribbling notes, Peter doodled in his notebook. He ripped the page out of his book as if he’d toss it away and Dani stared at him like he was crazy.

  “You good over there?” she asked.

  Peter slid the half-crumbled page across the table towards Dani. She peeked at the paper to discover two poorly drawn penguins. They stood on a block of ice floating in the tundra, miles from everything and anything. No civilization in sight. Regardless, they both looked happy. Content to be lost at sea in one another’s company.

  “For you,” was all of Peter’s input on the matter. “But it isn’t very good.”

  Dani blushed, took the page and placed it inside her binder.

  Peter thought for sure that she’d lose it at some point, either in between classes or thrown away accidentally. He was surprised to be looking back down at the picture he had drawn for his crush, all those years ago.

  “I miss those days,” Peter said, his fingers lingering near Dani’s.

  “I do too,” she said. “But we’re here now. Things are getting better.”

  “I miss home,” Peter went on.

  “I know. I miss it too,” replied Dani. “We’ll get used to this. Maybe even fall in love with it here like we did in our first home. We’ll take as much time as we need. There’s no reason to rush or put any pressure on ourselves. One day we’ll look back and remember this day too. We’ll remember what it took to build up from this moment.”

  She took the drawing and flipped it over. With a pen they were supposed to sign the check with, she began drawing something.

  “This is for you now.” Dani slid the paper back. “And years from now, you’ll find it and remember this day. We’ll remember how uncertain things were and be grateful for how far we’ve come.”

  EIGHTEEN

  Week two

  The picture Dani scribbled for Peter sat on his nightstand. He warmed inside when it caught his eye as he left the comfort of their bed.

  The couple said their goodbyes for the morning from the driveway. As Dani drove to school she thought how surprisingly receptive her sixth graders were. Their willingness to learn helped her ease into her new role.

  As Peter approached the roundabout at mile 2.5, he continued straight, into town once more. This had been part of his plan today, not an impulsive action. Since completing one of the more evasive chapters of his book, he felt it was a good idea to head back over to the bookshop for a little research session. He was by no means a crime/mystery expert, merely an enthusiast. Any true analysis he tacked onto his imagination would legitimize his story further. He wanted his work to be as authentic as possible. Plus, a little insight never hurt. He intended to take Tony up on his offer. It was nice having the support of someone like Tony.

  Peter reached Main Street and made a beeline for the shop.

  “I doubt you’d want the kind of inspiration Leida has to offer.”

  Those words from Tony last time echoed in Peter’s ears. What did he mean by that? He didn’t want to ask directly, but it was burning nonetheless.

  “Morning, Peter!” Tony greeted his new friend. “Checking out Leida’s book today?”

  “Yes, I am. I’ve been looking forward to diving into her work all weekend.”

  Peter hoped to gain some perspective on his new fascination. What more effective way to do so than reading the pages she had written herself? Although he didn’t expect to find any direct answers in her work, at least he could shine a light on what made her tick.

  Tony led Peter up the staircase to the second-floor, opening the locked cabinet. The only copy left of Leida’s book was kept there. While Tony was willing to let Peter access his personal collection, this was one book he wouldn’t let outside of the store. Peter now understood the purpose of the locked cabinet. It was to preserve something of personal, not monetary value.

  “I think I’ll stay up here and use the chair. Unless that’s a problem?” Peter asked.

  “That’s up to you, my friend. I’m uncertain that old thing is even comfortable but if that’s what you want…”

  Tony went back downstairs, leaving Peter alone.

  Time quickly slipped away fro
m Peter’s mind as he was absorbed into the book. Never had he finished a book from cover to cover in one sitting before today. The pages turned themselves as Peter just watched the story unfold. Upon reaching the end, he still lacked any of the answers he sought. The only thing that really stuck out to him was Leida’s mentioning of “memories”. It seemed to be a recurring theme throughout her writing.

  “These thoughts and memories act as a burden. How can one truly rid themselves of the weight upstairs in their own mind? Simply put, they cannot. Like Ropes in the Attic, they sway as permanent fixtures to forever torment the host.”

  This was the material the town rallied behind? Peter thought the material was melodramatic at best. Certainly nothing groundbreaking or excitable. He felt like he was reading someone’s personal lament and not a fan-pleasing fiction novel. Peter shrugged. Perhaps an accomplishment like this, despite the scale, was still something to be proud of. He’d have more understanding the day he’d reach that goal himself.

  Peter scanned the second-floor. From the old chair he had a new perspective of the space. He noticed the cabinet was left unlocked. The master lock hung from its hook and the door cracked open slightly.

  Peter didn’t move from the chair. The underwhelming book still in his lap, he stared at the cabinet. From his perch, he surveyed the shop below. Tony was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he’d gone down to the basement like he had on the day they met. Maybe he stepped outside for a cigarette.

  Peter stood up and closed the book, placing it on the rocking chair. He cautiously approached the cabinet, trying not to make a sound. The lock just hung there, inviting him to kneel in front of the doors and peek inside. He reached out to pull back the doors and caught his hands trembling.

  He let out a sigh of disappointment. The insides of the cabinet were almost as much of a letdown as Leida’s book.

  The empty space in the front clearly housed the book itself. A slight collection of dust particles formed around its outline.

  Something glistened from the back of the cabinet. Fascination swept over his face. His body stiffened as he reached for it. His arm clumsily knocked into the side of the cabinet, causing a photo to flop down. Temporarily distracted from whatever shiny thing caught his eye, Peter grabbed the photo and immediately tensed up.

  It was the same one that was mixed in with his personal photos at home. This one, however, looked like an original. Time had its effects on the photo as the white, synthetic plastic border slightly bent and yellowed around the corners. Peter picked it up gently. The back had been signed.

  “Thank you for your continued support through everything and giving me a second home.

  -Love,

  Leida”

  It was her handwriting. Her actual handwriting. Not something printed by a machine or a copy. The words on the back of this photo were penned by Leida herself.

  A chill overcame Peter as he came to this realization.

  Who is this person living in my home?

  He needed answers to what happened to Leida and what happened in the house. Peter was sure he would never get close to knowing what had really happened. Although this signature, this imprint on the back of a photo, did not give him any answers, Peter studied it as if it might.

  It was a piece of history. One that continued to be a puzzle with missing pieces. A mystery which caused ripples, affecting Peter years after whatever took place was all but forgotten.

  He reached for the back of the cabinet again. This time producing an old wedding band.

  “Damn,” he thought to himself, picking up the wedding band and examining it. It didn’t look very expensive. On the inside an engraving glinted. It was tough to make out what it said at first but Peter found a decent angle to read from:

  “Until Forever Ends. Till Death.”

  A little on the morbid side of romance, Peter thought as he softened his straining eyes. It was a saddening thought pondering how the ring ended up locked away here.

  Peter reached deeper into the cabinet and felt something jutting out from the back. It seemed to be wedged into the corner. He wrapped his hand around it and pulled. The object came free without much effort. A narrow wooden box. He ran his fingers over the tarnished, grainy surface. Peter thought it had to be as old as the worn-down rocking chair behind him.

  Glancing over his shoulder, Peter tried to be as discrete as possible. He wondered where Tony had gone. The shop owner was surely under the impression that Peter was quietly reading upstairs instead of snooping around…unless he had left the cabinet unlocked intentionally.

  “No, he wouldn’t,” Peter’s mind countered. What did Tony have to gain by luring Peter into sneaking around locked cabinets? He was an old shop owner. Warm and friendly. There were no underlying motives.

  “What if Tony is trying to warn you about something,” Peter continued on the conversation in his head.

  “But what?”

  He pulled the latch on the side of the box, opening it slowly. Inside rested a bronze skeleton key. It was neatly placed inside a protective foam casing outlined specifically for its shape. The key was the exact color and texture of the chest back home.

  The chest which he couldn’t stop thinking about. He needed to know what was inside. The question was becoming a nuisance in Peter’s life. He also couldn’t understand Dani’s indifference to it. They lived under the same roof. The contents of the chest affected her as much as they did him. He couldn’t bear to leave this enigma unsolved.

  Peter glanced around quickly. Without thinking twice, he took the key from the box and placed it in his pocket.

  He closed the box and tucked it away inside the cabinet. His heart galloped. No way would he get away with this, but he had already committed to the act.

  Peter turned back to the chair to get the book, ready to head downstairs. It was opened, face-down on the seat of the chair.

  “Did I leave this open?” Peter thought as he reached for the book.

  He picked it up and looked at the page it had been turned to.

  It was blank.

  Peter started flipping through the pages of the book. They were all blank. His heartrate soared to new heights. He flipped through the pages faster and faster until he reached the last page.

  A drawing of an ocean swirled on the paper. A small ship sailed towards shore. If he didn’t know any better, Peter would guess the ship wouldn’t make it. The harsh waters of the ocean were no match for the flimsy sails. The ships demise was inevitable.

  Peter slammed the book shut, questioning his own sanity. He gulped, trying to reason his brain into calmness. Walking back down the stairs there was still no sign of Tony. He placed the book on the front counter and grabbed a pencil.

  Fuhhhh

  He let out a sigh, tapping the counter with his pencil.

  “Hey Tony, I finished the book. Sorry I didn’t see you on the way out. Just wanted to say thank you for being so welcoming. See you again soon.

  -Peter”

  He placed the note on top of the book and left the store.

  NINETEEN

  “So, what did everyone think of The Road Not Taken?” Dani prompted her class.

  Thirty faces looked back at their teacher. Not one hand raised. The bright lights buzzed and the even brighter paintings on the wall shone back at her.

  “Someone has to have an opinion on this poem…Any thoughts? Allison, how about you?” Dani called out to the studious and always attentive, Allison. Surely, she would have input on the assignment.

  “Robert Frost is talking about making choices,” her tiny voice barely projecting from behind the glasses covering her face.

  “Okay, we’re getting somewhere…but what about these choices?” Dani followed up. She felt slightly proud of herself. Not something she allowed herself to be very often, but here, she felt like she was truly making these kids think. She had to fight back a smile. She pointed towards the back of the classroom. “Mark, what do you think?”

  With her hair
straightened and pulled back—a far cry from the messy mane she sported just a year ago —she felt she’d grown into a strong leader. A choice she made when she could have easily given up.

  A boy with dark matted hair straightened at his desk. “The poem is saying you can’t know you’ve made the wrong choice until after you’ve already made it.” His slightly disinterested tone gave an answer Dani wasn’t expecting from the class.

  “Interesting. So do you think it’s a bad idea to take the road less traveled as interpreted by Frost?”