Spring Cleaning
Content
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Andrew Parks Spring Cleaning
Marla Cummings woke up at 5:55am and waited in bed with her eyes closed. She counted the seconds in her head, timing each minute with the soft click of her old alarm clock. At 6:00am, a somewhat louder click issued from her alarm clock just before a three second buzz. After a three second pause, another three second buzz sounded. When the fifth buzz finished, Marla opened her eyes and flicked the switch to silence the alarm. She drew in a long breath and let it out in a sigh that lasted five seconds before she climbed out of o f bed and slipped her feet into plush blue slippers; the third pair in a line of five. She stood and arched her back, holding the stretch for fifteen seconds before bending down to touch her toes for another fifteen seconds. It was five feet from her bed to the adjoining bathroom door then another three feet to the vanity mirror within. She took short steps, unconsciously pacing herself to match the foot distance. Each step left the slightest depression in the short shag of her white carpeting, which niggled at the back of Marla's mind as she stepped onto the hardwood flooring of her bathroom. The bathroom attached to the master bedroom was small with barely enough room for the vanity, toilet, and shower. Marla flicked on the light and studied her reflection in the mirror, lifting her chin then twisting her head from left to right. She ran a hand through her fine, mousy curls of hair then wiped it on the front of her white tank top. "Disgusting," she murmured. After a few more moments of inspection, Marla leaned over the toilet and turned on the hot water of the shower. The nozzle sputtered before shooting a steady stream of water. Marla pulled off her tank top and grey flannel sweat pants then pushed through the shower curtain into
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the steaming water. Her skin tingled at the heat of the water and she closed her eyes, smiling at the sensation. Her morning shower always worked well to wash a way the last vestiges of sleep and Marla wrapped herself in a thick, blue towel feeling refreshed. Her freshly shaved legs felt raw and cold outside of the running water but she ignored them as she grabbed a blue toothbrush from its holder. Her tube of Crest Whitening toothpaste sat beside the holder, rolled up neatly about halfway up the length. She squeezed an amount along the ends of the bristles and began brushing her teeth. She started with the bac k molar of her upper teeth and worked across the fronts of her teeth before doing the backs, then the tips. Then she moved to the bottom teeth. She counted brush strokes the whole time, making sure every area got equal treatment. She wiped her hand across the mirror and frowned at her reflection. Her hair always looked so lank when it was wet. She pulled a few strands of it out to look for split ends but gave up, deciding to check later when it was dry. She pulled open a drawer and lifted a zipped case from within it. Unzipped, it revealed a wide array of various face washes, lotions, and mak e up. Marla hated her face. Every morning was an exercise in hiding its many imperfections. She began with a light foundation to cover the bluish veins that her pale complexion revealed along her thin jaw line. The foundation also helped to downplay the single dark freckle at the very tip of her small, narrow nose. She pok ed at the dark bags beneath her eyes that remained regardless of how much sleep she got and selected a deep purple eye shadow which, applied thinly above and thickly below the eye, would highlight the bright green of her eyes. A bit of mascara added an illusion of thickness her eyelashes completely lacked and a light red lipstick helped her pale lips to stand out.
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Once finished, she pulled her shoulder length hair into a tight bun at the back of her head and tied it with a stretchy black band. ba nd. She regarded herself once more in the mirror that had by this time cleared of condensation and nodded. "Passable," she said and smiled. "Barely." She used a bit of toilet paper to wipe the watermarks from the mirror, gathered up her pajamas, and left the bathroom.
Marla skipped down the hall of o f her home and into the living room where her stereo with five large speakers waited. She smiled as she p ressed the power button and the speakers buzzed into life. The multiple CD selector hummed quietly as it cycled through the different discs, taking a quick account accoun t of which of its trays were loaded. After a second, it returned to the first disc and began playing the first track automatically. Marla listened as a high-powered guitar intro to a metal song took off to the accompaniment of thunderous double bass. She hit the CD skip button before the growling voice of the singer joined in. The next CD started with a light piano performance of one of Mozart's sonatas but did not make it through a few seconds before Marla skipped it as well. The third CD began with a heavy melodic guitar accompanied by a much slower but no less powerful drum part than the first CD. Marla smiled and switched to the second track on the CD. The sound of four men singing acapella together filled the room. They were singing in the native language of a small group of islands between England and Iceland called The Faroes. Marla did not know the language, lang uage, but she loved their music and the graceful flow of the lyrics. After a single chorus of only vocals, the song took off with the instruments and Marla bobb ed her head as she hummed along.
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She walked into the kitchen, which adjoined her living room, and rooted around beneath her sink until she turned up an unopened package of blue sponges. She carefully tore it open along a seam in the plastic and pulled out one of the sponges. She stood and closed the cupboard. She retrieved a pair of yellow rubber gloves from a drawer next to the sink and slipped them onto her hands, careful not to snag on her rings. Then she ran the sponge under the tap and squeezed a dollop of blue dish soap onto it. There were no dishes in her sink but she squished the soap into the sponge and began scrubbing the inside of the pristine stainless steel sink. After the first few moments, she began to sync her small circular strokes with the beat of the song emanating from the living room. By the time she finished with the inside of the sink and had moved on to the dark granite countertops, the song had ended and one of the band's English songs had started. Marla leaned down and held her face close to the countertop to catch any imperfections on its surface in the light. She stood and wiped the sponge across a cross the surface, leaving short trails of quickly evaporating water behind it. As she cleaned, she continued to hum along with the music, occasionally singing quietly along when it reached a part where she knew the lyrics. Once she finished the countertops, she returned to the sink and began the process again. When she finished the sink and counters for the third time, she threw the blue sponge into a small garbage can under the sink where it rested with many others just like it. She left the kitchen and walked through the living room, back into the closet where she picked up a square cloth just large enough to cover her hand. As she returned to the living room, the CD ended and the stereo automatically switched to the next one. It was an earlier album by the same band. Marla walked to the stereo and skipped to the fourth song. The upbeat guitar and playful melody made her want to dance but instead she went back into the kitchen to dampen the cloth.
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Marla returned to the living room and sang quietly along to the song as she ran the damp cloth over the top of one of her lamps. When she finished the top, she lifted it and ran the cloth underneath it before setting the lamp down do wn and wiping her finger prints from its metal siding. She winked at her reflection in the top before moving on to the next lamp across the room. "No, nay, never, no more," she sang, "will I play the wild rover no never, no more." The phone in the kitchen rang. She hesitated on her way toward the lamp and looked toward the kitchen. The phone rang again. Marla slipped the cloth into one of her back pockets with a sigh and paused the stereo. The phone rang a third time before she snatched it from the receiver. "Hello?" "Hey, Marla!" Marla rubbed the bridge of her he r nose. "Hi, Elise," she replied. "What's up?" "A new Thai restaurant opened up not too far from my place. Wanna go to lunch with me?" Marla took a deep breath b reath and let it out slowly. "Um, no, I don't think so. I'm not a big fan of Thai food." "Nonsense. I'll be there in an hour." "But it's only-" Elise hung up. "Seven." Marla set the phone back on the receiver and leaned against the wall. "Damn it." She pulled the cloth out of her slowly dampening pocket and returned to the living room. She pushed play once again on her stereo and walked across the room to the fireplace set in the opposite wall. It was large and walled with smooth, red bricks. Across the top was a black, lacquered wooden mantle adorned with a blue glass vase full of plastic roses, a golden MVP trophy topped with a woman setting a volleyball, and, in the center,
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a picture of Marla with her arms wrapped a small girl with brown pigtails. They shared the same toothy smile. Marla moved each item onto the area of tiled floor just in front of the fireplace and wiped the mantle three times to clear off whatever dust might have accumulated, careful not n ot to leave streaks. Once done she picked up the vase and trophy again and wiped them down before setting them back in their places. Instead of picking up the picture, Marla sat down beside it. She looked down at the picture and cocked her head to one side. Tears welled up in her eyes as she picked up the picture. "Have fun at school, sweetie," she whispered, hugging the picture to her chest.
When Marla's doorbell echoed through her house, she was on her knees in one of the spare bedrooms carefully straightening the tassel-like fringes of the round throw rug in the center of the room. It had a simple design of alternating blue and purple bands spiraling into the center. After Elise's call, Marla had switched the stereo back to the first CD and for forty minutes, her house had echoed to the growling vocals, power guitars, and driving rhythms of Viking metal. The final mournful guitar riffs of the last song were fading out when Marla walked by the stereo and flicked the power off. The house seemed oddly silent as she approached the door and peaked through the peephole. Elise's broad face was warped beyond ridiculous by the fish-eye lens. "Wipe your feet, please," Marla called through the door. She watched as Elise wiped her seemingly tiny feet four times. She waited for a second. "One more time please." Elise's sigh of exasperation was barely audible through the door as she wiped her feet once more. "Better?" she asked.
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Marla nodded to herself and unlocked the door. Then she locked it. She repeated this two more times before actually opening the door. "Hello, Elise." Elise, when not warped out of proportion by the peephole, was just over five feet tall with short-cropped black hair that framed her face. She wore a green skirt that ended just above the knee and a matching shirt underneath a dark blue coat. "Morning, Marla." She stepped through the threshold and looked around the living room. "Take off your shoes, please." Elise looked at Marla. "But I just wiped them." "Elise, please," Marla grabbed her right elbow with her left hand. "Every time?" Elise shook her head with a light laugh. "Oh, Marla, I'll never understand you." She kicked her red slip-ons into the door jamb and walked in socks onto the deep brown hardwood floors. Halfway across the room she twirled on one foot before skipping a couple steps and sliding back next to Marla. "You don't know how lucky you are to have these floors, Marla," she said. Marla closed the door and turned back to Elise. She clenched her jaw when she noticed the streaks left on the polished flooring by Elise's antics. "Elise, listen. I-" "Starting already?" Elise interrupted. "Can't you at least ask how I am before we get into this?" Marla took a deep breath, held it for three seconds, and let it out slowly. "How are you today?" she asked, still looking past Elise at the floor. Elise bent down and leaned leane d into Marla's field of vision. She pointed at her face. "Eyes up, babe." She straighted and Marla's gaze followed her up. Elise had a face made for smiling and
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the quick smile she flashed at Marla lit up her face. "I am doing very well today, Marla. Thank you. And how are you today?" Marla's gaze flickered back to the floor where the streaks were fading as the small amount of sweat evaporated then back to Elise's face. "I'm good." Her voice was slightly shaky. "Good!" cried Elise. "Good, she says." Peals of laughter filled the living room. "You've always been a bad liar." "Well, not everyone is as practiced as you, dear," Marla countered. Elise stuck her tongue out at her. "So, you need to get dressed. We're going out to lunch." Marla once again grabbed her left elbow with her right hand. "But it's not even eight, yet." Elise walked to a floral print couch and plopped down into it. The plastic covering creaked under her weight. "I " I know it's not eight. I also know that you'll take at least three hours arguing with me about why you just can't go out today; how you've got this to clean, or that to organize. I swear, Marla, one of these days I expect to walk in on you arranging matches." Marla looked down at her feet as she remembered the day before when she had straightened the matches in the small box next to her fireplace. "Well, I've got a lot to do," she said pathetically. "No, Marla, you don't." Elise stood up and walked to Marla's front door. She ran a finger across the top of the door jamb, looked at it, then revealed it to Marla. Not a speck of dirt d irt marred the whorl of her fingerprint. "Do you realize how few people clean that even once, let alone enough to keep it completely spotless all the time?" she asked. Marla frowned at her. "There's nothing wrong with cleaning, Elise. Maybe you should try it now and then."
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"No, there's nothing wrong with cleaning every now and then but it's usually something you do when things get dirty, d irty, not while they're still clean." Elise returned to the couch and folded her feet underneath her. "Now then, go get ready, it's a little chilly outside." She patted her coat. Marla turned toward the hallway but did not move toward her room. "I think you had better go, Elise." "I will," Elise replied, "when you're ready to go ."
They carried on like this for nearly an hour, during which time Marla moved halfway down her hall and Elise walked past her to sit on her bed. From where she sat, Elise could see Marla drifting listlessly between the two spare rooms. "Listen, Elise," Marla called. "If you let me alone today, I'll go out to lunch with you tomorrow." Sitting on the bed, Elise's feet did not touch the floor and she kicked them freely in the air. "I've fallen for that one before, Marla. I'm not going to again." She lay back onto the bed. "You've got a soft bed." "I don't sleep well on firmer mattresses," Marla replied mechanically. Elise stood up and walked out of Marla's view. Looked into the attached bathroom and yelled, "Holy shit, Marla! What is this?" The padding of feet preceded Marla jogging into the room. "What? What is it?" she asked, concern plain on her face. Elise turned to her and smiled. "Oh nothing, I just got tired of you pacing out in the hall." Marla lightly punched Elise in the arm. "You're such a bitch." "I know," she replied, rubbing her arm. "But it's good for you."
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Elise smiled warmly and cupped Marla's cheek in her hand. "Listen, Marla, I care for you. I miss you. I know how hard ha rd this has been for you but you need to leave this house." Marla stepped out of her touch. Elise let her arm drop. "Alice wouldn't want you wasting away in a tomb while you're still alive." Marla turned away from Elise to hide the tears returning to her eyes. She could almost hear the high-pitched laughter of her he r daughter echoing from the empty rooms in the hall. Elise rested her hand on Marla's shoulder. "Come with me, Marly-girl," Elise said quietly. "Please." Marla swallowed a lump in her throat. "Okay," she said weakly. "I'll go." Elise hugged Marla and kissed the back of her head. "I'll wait in the living room." As Elise left Marla turned and walked to her closet. Hanging from the very end of the rung was her old black coat. She pulled it out for the first time in three years and set it on the end en d of her bed. On the floor of her closet were four different pairs of shoes; two pairs of blue pumps, a pair of black high heels, and a pair of brown slip-ons. She selected the brown slip-ons and set them at the foot of her bed, beneath the coat. The top left drawer of her dresser held her socks. She pulled out a pair that reached midway up her calf and slid them over her feet. Slipping her feet into the shoes was a strange feeling, they felt oddly confined. She lifted the coat and pulled it over her shoulders. It smelled musty and was stiff from hanging motionless for so long. She walked slowly down the hall, the hard soles of her shoes clicking softly on the flooring. She paused halfway down the hall and rested a hand on one of the closed doors. She stood for few seconds before moving the rest of the way.
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Elise was standing at the fireplace looking a t the picture on the mantle when Marla emerged from the hallway. She turned around and looked down at Marla's shoes. "Oh I see how it goes," she said with a smirk. "You get to wear your shoes inside but I don't." Marla smiled wryly. "Well, mine match so much more nicely than yours." She looked over to her front door; its dark burgundy surface was dully reflective in the light of her lamps. She took a deep breath. "Shall we?" Elise walked to Marla's side and hugged hugge d onto her arm. "I think it's about that time." Marla looked down at her friend who was looking up expectantly, pale blue eyes glistening. She took another deep breath b reath and let it out slowly. "Okay, let's go." They two women walked slowly toward the door, each step taking an eternity unto itself. Neither woman seemed to breathe. The sound of the clock hanging above the stereo ticking away the seconds echoed throughout the room, drowning out all other sound. Tick. Five feet from the door. Tick. Three feet from the door. Tick. Elise let go of Marla's arm to pull her shoes on. Tick. Elise opened the door. Tick. A rush of cool air blew in and rustled Marla's hair. Marla did not move toward the opening. Elise stepped out onto the pine planks of the front porch and turned to face her. Marla clenched her hands into fists and took one step. And then another. She stood at the threshold of her door and looked out past Elise. From the porch, a thin cobblestone pathway led to the sidewalk, lined with bark-covered flowerbeds. No flowers had bloomed yet but the shoots of new growth were already starting to show. Marla lifted her foot to step over the threshold and hesitated, her foot dangling dang ling in indecision. Elise held out a hand. "Come on, Marla. He's not out there anymore."
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Marla looked into Elise's eyes as she took her hand and stepped through the door, closing it behind her. Elise squealed in delight and threw her arms around Marla. "You did it," she whispered. Marla breathed deeply of the fresh May air and let it out in a happy sigh. "I did." Elise let her go and led her down the porch onto the path. "Now there's just one more problem," she said seriously. "What's that?" Marla asked. "It's only nine in the morning and the Thai place doesn't open for lunch 'til eleven."
Andrew Parks Spring Cleaning
Marla Cummings woke up at 5:55am and waited in bed with her eyes closed. She counted the seconds in her head, timing each minute with the soft click of her old alarm clock. At 6:00am, a somewhat louder click issued from her alarm clock just before a three second buzz. After a three second pause, another three second buzz sounded. When the fifth buzz finished, Marla opened her eyes and flicked the switch to silence the alarm. She drew in a long breath and let it out in a sigh that lasted five seconds before she climbed out of o f bed and slipped her feet into plush blue slippers; the third pair in a line of five. She stood and arched her back, holding the stretch for fifteen seconds before bending down to touch her toes for another fifteen seconds. It was five feet from her bed to the adjoining bathroom door then another three feet to the vanity mirror within. She took short steps, unconsciously pacing herself to match the foot distance. Each step left the slightest depression in the short shag of her white carpeting, which niggled at the back of Marla's mind as she stepped onto the hardwood flooring of her bathroom. The bathroom attached to the master bedroom was small with barely enough room for the vanity, toilet, and shower. Marla flicked on the light and studied her reflection in the mirror, lifting her chin then twisting her head from left to right. She ran a hand through her fine, mousy curls of hair then wiped it on the front of her white tank top. "Disgusting," she murmured. After a few more moments of inspection, Marla leaned over the toilet and turned on the hot water of the shower. The nozzle sputtered before shooting a steady stream of water. Marla pulled off her tank top and grey flannel sweat pants then pushed through the shower curtain into
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the steaming water. Her skin tingled at the heat of the water and she closed her eyes, smiling at the sensation. Her morning shower always worked well to wash a way the last vestiges of sleep and Marla wrapped herself in a thick, blue towel feeling refreshed. Her freshly shaved legs felt raw and cold outside of the running water but she ignored them as she grabbed a blue toothbrush from its holder. Her tube of Crest Whitening toothpaste sat beside the holder, rolled up neatly about halfway up the length. She squeezed an amount along the ends of the bristles and began brushing her teeth. She started with the bac k molar of her upper teeth and worked across the fronts of her teeth before doing the backs, then the tips. Then she moved to the bottom teeth. She counted brush strokes the whole time, making sure every area got equal treatment. She wiped her hand across the mirror and frowned at her reflection. Her hair always looked so lank when it was wet. She pulled a few strands of it out to look for split ends but gave up, deciding to check later when it was dry. She pulled open a drawer and lifted a zipped case from within it. Unzipped, it revealed a wide array of various face washes, lotions, and mak e up. Marla hated her face. Every morning was an exercise in hiding its many imperfections. She began with a light foundation to cover the bluish veins that her pale complexion revealed along her thin jaw line. The foundation also helped to downplay the single dark freckle at the very tip of her small, narrow nose. She pok ed at the dark bags beneath her eyes that remained regardless of how much sleep she got and selected a deep purple eye shadow which, applied thinly above and thickly below the eye, would highlight the bright green of her eyes. A bit of mascara added an illusion of thickness her eyelashes completely lacked and a light red lipstick helped her pale lips to stand out.
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Once finished, she pulled her shoulder length hair into a tight bun at the back of her head and tied it with a stretchy black band. ba nd. She regarded herself once more in the mirror that had by this time cleared of condensation and nodded. "Passable," she said and smiled. "Barely." She used a bit of toilet paper to wipe the watermarks from the mirror, gathered up her pajamas, and left the bathroom.
Marla skipped down the hall of o f her home and into the living room where her stereo with five large speakers waited. She smiled as she p ressed the power button and the speakers buzzed into life. The multiple CD selector hummed quietly as it cycled through the different discs, taking a quick account accoun t of which of its trays were loaded. After a second, it returned to the first disc and began playing the first track automatically. Marla listened as a high-powered guitar intro to a metal song took off to the accompaniment of thunderous double bass. She hit the CD skip button before the growling voice of the singer joined in. The next CD started with a light piano performance of one of Mozart's sonatas but did not make it through a few seconds before Marla skipped it as well. The third CD began with a heavy melodic guitar accompanied by a much slower but no less powerful drum part than the first CD. Marla smiled and switched to the second track on the CD. The sound of four men singing acapella together filled the room. They were singing in the native language of a small group of islands between England and Iceland called The Faroes. Marla did not know the language, lang uage, but she loved their music and the graceful flow of the lyrics. After a single chorus of only vocals, the song took off with the instruments and Marla bobb ed her head as she hummed along.
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She walked into the kitchen, which adjoined her living room, and rooted around beneath her sink until she turned up an unopened package of blue sponges. She carefully tore it open along a seam in the plastic and pulled out one of the sponges. She stood and closed the cupboard. She retrieved a pair of yellow rubber gloves from a drawer next to the sink and slipped them onto her hands, careful not to snag on her rings. Then she ran the sponge under the tap and squeezed a dollop of blue dish soap onto it. There were no dishes in her sink but she squished the soap into the sponge and began scrubbing the inside of the pristine stainless steel sink. After the first few moments, she began to sync her small circular strokes with the beat of the song emanating from the living room. By the time she finished with the inside of the sink and had moved on to the dark granite countertops, the song had ended and one of the band's English songs had started. Marla leaned down and held her face close to the countertop to catch any imperfections on its surface in the light. She stood and wiped the sponge across a cross the surface, leaving short trails of quickly evaporating water behind it. As she cleaned, she continued to hum along with the music, occasionally singing quietly along when it reached a part where she knew the lyrics. Once she finished the countertops, she returned to the sink and began the process again. When she finished the sink and counters for the third time, she threw the blue sponge into a small garbage can under the sink where it rested with many others just like it. She left the kitchen and walked through the living room, back into the closet where she picked up a square cloth just large enough to cover her hand. As she returned to the living room, the CD ended and the stereo automatically switched to the next one. It was an earlier album by the same band. Marla walked to the stereo and skipped to the fourth song. The upbeat guitar and playful melody made her want to dance but instead she went back into the kitchen to dampen the cloth.
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Marla returned to the living room and sang quietly along to the song as she ran the damp cloth over the top of one of her lamps. When she finished the top, she lifted it and ran the cloth underneath it before setting the lamp down do wn and wiping her finger prints from its metal siding. She winked at her reflection in the top before moving on to the next lamp across the room. "No, nay, never, no more," she sang, "will I play the wild rover no never, no more." The phone in the kitchen rang. She hesitated on her way toward the lamp and looked toward the kitchen. The phone rang again. Marla slipped the cloth into one of her back pockets with a sigh and paused the stereo. The phone rang a third time before she snatched it from the receiver. "Hello?" "Hey, Marla!" Marla rubbed the bridge of her he r nose. "Hi, Elise," she replied. "What's up?" "A new Thai restaurant opened up not too far from my place. Wanna go to lunch with me?" Marla took a deep breath b reath and let it out slowly. "Um, no, I don't think so. I'm not a big fan of Thai food." "Nonsense. I'll be there in an hour." "But it's only-" Elise hung up. "Seven." Marla set the phone back on the receiver and leaned against the wall. "Damn it." She pulled the cloth out of her slowly dampening pocket and returned to the living room. She pushed play once again on her stereo and walked across the room to the fireplace set in the opposite wall. It was large and walled with smooth, red bricks. Across the top was a black, lacquered wooden mantle adorned with a blue glass vase full of plastic roses, a golden MVP trophy topped with a woman setting a volleyball, and, in the center,
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a picture of Marla with her arms wrapped a small girl with brown pigtails. They shared the same toothy smile. Marla moved each item onto the area of tiled floor just in front of the fireplace and wiped the mantle three times to clear off whatever dust might have accumulated, careful not n ot to leave streaks. Once done she picked up the vase and trophy again and wiped them down before setting them back in their places. Instead of picking up the picture, Marla sat down beside it. She looked down at the picture and cocked her head to one side. Tears welled up in her eyes as she picked up the picture. "Have fun at school, sweetie," she whispered, hugging the picture to her chest.
When Marla's doorbell echoed through her house, she was on her knees in one of the spare bedrooms carefully straightening the tassel-like fringes of the round throw rug in the center of the room. It had a simple design of alternating blue and purple bands spiraling into the center. After Elise's call, Marla had switched the stereo back to the first CD and for forty minutes, her house had echoed to the growling vocals, power guitars, and driving rhythms of Viking metal. The final mournful guitar riffs of the last song were fading out when Marla walked by the stereo and flicked the power off. The house seemed oddly silent as she approached the door and peaked through the peephole. Elise's broad face was warped beyond ridiculous by the fish-eye lens. "Wipe your feet, please," Marla called through the door. She watched as Elise wiped her seemingly tiny feet four times. She waited for a second. "One more time please." Elise's sigh of exasperation was barely audible through the door as she wiped her feet once more. "Better?" she asked.
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Marla nodded to herself and unlocked the door. Then she locked it. She repeated this two more times before actually opening the door. "Hello, Elise." Elise, when not warped out of proportion by the peephole, was just over five feet tall with short-cropped black hair that framed her face. She wore a green skirt that ended just above the knee and a matching shirt underneath a dark blue coat. "Morning, Marla." She stepped through the threshold and looked around the living room. "Take off your shoes, please." Elise looked at Marla. "But I just wiped them." "Elise, please," Marla grabbed her right elbow with her left hand. "Every time?" Elise shook her head with a light laugh. "Oh, Marla, I'll never understand you." She kicked her red slip-ons into the door jamb and walked in socks onto the deep brown hardwood floors. Halfway across the room she twirled on one foot before skipping a couple steps and sliding back next to Marla. "You don't know how lucky you are to have these floors, Marla," she said. Marla closed the door and turned back to Elise. She clenched her jaw when she noticed the streaks left on the polished flooring by Elise's antics. "Elise, listen. I-" "Starting already?" Elise interrupted. "Can't you at least ask how I am before we get into this?" Marla took a deep breath, held it for three seconds, and let it out slowly. "How are you today?" she asked, still looking past Elise at the floor. Elise bent down and leaned leane d into Marla's field of vision. She pointed at her face. "Eyes up, babe." She straighted and Marla's gaze followed her up. Elise had a face made for smiling and
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the quick smile she flashed at Marla lit up her face. "I am doing very well today, Marla. Thank you. And how are you today?" Marla's gaze flickered back to the floor where the streaks were fading as the small amount of sweat evaporated then back to Elise's face. "I'm good." Her voice was slightly shaky. "Good!" cried Elise. "Good, she says." Peals of laughter filled the living room. "You've always been a bad liar." "Well, not everyone is as practiced as you, dear," Marla countered. Elise stuck her tongue out at her. "So, you need to get dressed. We're going out to lunch." Marla once again grabbed her left elbow with her right hand. "But it's not even eight, yet." Elise walked to a floral print couch and plopped down into it. The plastic covering creaked under her weight. "I " I know it's not eight. I also know that you'll take at least three hours arguing with me about why you just can't go out today; how you've got this to clean, or that to organize. I swear, Marla, one of these days I expect to walk in on you arranging matches." Marla looked down at her feet as she remembered the day before when she had straightened the matches in the small box next to her fireplace. "Well, I've got a lot to do," she said pathetically. "No, Marla, you don't." Elise stood up and walked to Marla's front door. She ran a finger across the top of the door jamb, looked at it, then revealed it to Marla. Not a speck of dirt d irt marred the whorl of her fingerprint. "Do you realize how few people clean that even once, let alone enough to keep it completely spotless all the time?" she asked. Marla frowned at her. "There's nothing wrong with cleaning, Elise. Maybe you should try it now and then."
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"No, there's nothing wrong with cleaning every now and then but it's usually something you do when things get dirty, d irty, not while they're still clean." Elise returned to the couch and folded her feet underneath her. "Now then, go get ready, it's a little chilly outside." She patted her coat. Marla turned toward the hallway but did not move toward her room. "I think you had better go, Elise." "I will," Elise replied, "when you're ready to go ."
They carried on like this for nearly an hour, during which time Marla moved halfway down her hall and Elise walked past her to sit on her bed. From where she sat, Elise could see Marla drifting listlessly between the two spare rooms. "Listen, Elise," Marla called. "If you let me alone today, I'll go out to lunch with you tomorrow." Sitting on the bed, Elise's feet did not touch the floor and she kicked them freely in the air. "I've fallen for that one before, Marla. I'm not going to again." She lay back onto the bed. "You've got a soft bed." "I don't sleep well on firmer mattresses," Marla replied mechanically. Elise stood up and walked out of Marla's view. Looked into the attached bathroom and yelled, "Holy shit, Marla! What is this?" The padding of feet preceded Marla jogging into the room. "What? What is it?" she asked, concern plain on her face. Elise turned to her and smiled. "Oh nothing, I just got tired of you pacing out in the hall." Marla lightly punched Elise in the arm. "You're such a bitch." "I know," she replied, rubbing her arm. "But it's good for you."
10
Elise smiled warmly and cupped Marla's cheek in her hand. "Listen, Marla, I care for you. I miss you. I know how hard ha rd this has been for you but you need to leave this house." Marla stepped out of her touch. Elise let her arm drop. "Alice wouldn't want you wasting away in a tomb while you're still alive." Marla turned away from Elise to hide the tears returning to her eyes. She could almost hear the high-pitched laughter of her he r daughter echoing from the empty rooms in the hall. Elise rested her hand on Marla's shoulder. "Come with me, Marly-girl," Elise said quietly. "Please." Marla swallowed a lump in her throat. "Okay," she said weakly. "I'll go." Elise hugged Marla and kissed the back of her head. "I'll wait in the living room." As Elise left Marla turned and walked to her closet. Hanging from the very end of the rung was her old black coat. She pulled it out for the first time in three years and set it on the end en d of her bed. On the floor of her closet were four different pairs of shoes; two pairs of blue pumps, a pair of black high heels, and a pair of brown slip-ons. She selected the brown slip-ons and set them at the foot of her bed, beneath the coat. The top left drawer of her dresser held her socks. She pulled out a pair that reached midway up her calf and slid them over her feet. Slipping her feet into the shoes was a strange feeling, they felt oddly confined. She lifted the coat and pulled it over her shoulders. It smelled musty and was stiff from hanging motionless for so long. She walked slowly down the hall, the hard soles of her shoes clicking softly on the flooring. She paused halfway down the hall and rested a hand on one of the closed doors. She stood for few seconds before moving the rest of the way.
11
Elise was standing at the fireplace looking a t the picture on the mantle when Marla emerged from the hallway. She turned around and looked down at Marla's shoes. "Oh I see how it goes," she said with a smirk. "You get to wear your shoes inside but I don't." Marla smiled wryly. "Well, mine match so much more nicely than yours." She looked over to her front door; its dark burgundy surface was dully reflective in the light of her lamps. She took a deep breath. "Shall we?" Elise walked to Marla's side and hugged hugge d onto her arm. "I think it's about that time." Marla looked down at her friend who was looking up expectantly, pale blue eyes glistening. She took another deep breath b reath and let it out slowly. "Okay, let's go." They two women walked slowly toward the door, each step taking an eternity unto itself. Neither woman seemed to breathe. The sound of the clock hanging above the stereo ticking away the seconds echoed throughout the room, drowning out all other sound. Tick. Five feet from the door. Tick. Three feet from the door. Tick. Elise let go of Marla's arm to pull her shoes on. Tick. Elise opened the door. Tick. A rush of cool air blew in and rustled Marla's hair. Marla did not move toward the opening. Elise stepped out onto the pine planks of the front porch and turned to face her. Marla clenched her hands into fists and took one step. And then another. She stood at the threshold of her door and looked out past Elise. From the porch, a thin cobblestone pathway led to the sidewalk, lined with bark-covered flowerbeds. No flowers had bloomed yet but the shoots of new growth were already starting to show. Marla lifted her foot to step over the threshold and hesitated, her foot dangling dang ling in indecision. Elise held out a hand. "Come on, Marla. He's not out there anymore."
12
Marla looked into Elise's eyes as she took her hand and stepped through the door, closing it behind her. Elise squealed in delight and threw her arms around Marla. "You did it," she whispered. Marla breathed deeply of the fresh May air and let it out in a happy sigh. "I did." Elise let her go and led her down the porch onto the path. "Now there's just one more problem," she said seriously. "What's that?" Marla asked. "It's only nine in the morning and the Thai place doesn't open for lunch 'til eleven."
