Cleaning Ladies

It seems every Thursday at the Meckley Manor when the cleaning ladies arrive, suddenly the mundane events of the past week melt away. I’ve lived here for the past few months and while this wreck of a place carries the name “manor,” don’t be fooled by its fancy title. This fleabag flop house is anything but a manor. It is hard to believe that I, Sir Eli Marshall will write his final chapter in this dreary excuse of a boarding house.

But the cleaning ladies are the only distraction there is for a man of my pedigree and distinction. Before landing in this dump, I was the King of Wall Street, but my kingdom has been reduced to this squalor. On Thursday, when they come to the door rattling their mops and cleaning buckets, Ophelia and Glanda walk in the front door filled with good tidings and charm, adding a ray of sunshine to this glum depressing place.

“All right folks.” Mrs. Sherbin calls out in the stairwell with her hand parked at the corner of his mouth, “Cleaning ladies is here.”

Her voice carries like a foghorn, but I can hear Ophelia and Glenda’s cheerful chatter as they wait in the foyer for the “all clear” signal from Mrs. Sherbin. As soon as the all-clear is given, they clang and giggle their way up the four-story stair case, ascending to the tenant’s rooms to clean and spread their good tidings to all of us.

“Good morning, Mr. Marshall.” Ophelia entered my small room with a single window that looked over an alleyway. She walked over to my electric heater and unplugged it. “Oh you mustn’t use this. It is a fire hazard.”

“It heats the water for my coffee.” I shook my head.

“There is a kitchen downstairs.” She pointed out.

“Four stories? I am not a young man anymore.” I shrugged. This had been an on-going battle between me and Mrs. Sherbin since I moved in a few months ago.

“You must play by the rules.” She pointed to a piece of paper tacked to the back of my door where number seven forbade use of any electrical devices plugged into a socket in the room.

“Don’t be mad.” She put her fingers under my chin. “Say the magic words and we shall leave this dreary place, eh?”

“I wish I could, I wish I may, leave this dreary place.” I closed my eyes.

The colors swirled into a vortex. I felt myself lifted off the ground. When I opened my eyes I was standing in Stonehenge Park where I had played all sorts of games when I was a child. When I looked down at my hands, I was astounded, because I was a child again.

“C’mon Eli, kick the can.” Egbert yelled from one of the safety bases behind an elm tree. As I ran up to the old tin can to kick it, the old gang began to run willy-nilly as I chased after them. Just as I reached Trudy, Egbert kicked the can and everyone was free.

“This is fun.” I panted as Ophelia held dandelion. She blew on the white flower and the white seeds scattered in the breeze.

“Do you remember?” She smiled.

“Oh yes. These were the happiest days of my childhood.” My high-pitched ten-year-old voice proclaimed in joy I had forgotten.

“We have to go.” Ophelia said after a few more games.

“Do we have to?” I whined.

“You know the rules.” She put her finger on my nose.

“Yeah, yeah.” I bowed my head, because I knew the rules. When I opened my eyes, I was sitting in the chair next to my bed.

“Mr. Marshall.” Ophelia touched my cheek waking me from my dream.

“Uhh.” I snorted as my eyes fluttered open. When I looked at her, Ophelia’s face glowed as she smiled, “We are getting ready to go.”

“So soon?”

“Yes, we have other places we have to visit.” He picked up her bucket.

“I wish you could stay.” I covered my mouth as I yawned.

“We will be back next Thursday.” She shrugged on shoulder as she walked out of my room, “See you then.”

Gloria had been at Meckley Manor the longest of any of us. I made it a point to have lunch with her in the kitchen after the cleaning ladies departed. Gloria and I were about the same age and our memories seemed to match seamlessly at times even though she had grown up in Flatbush. She had driven a truck when she was working and was as tough as any man.

“Eli, what’s shakin’?” She asked as I entered the dining room where she sat eating her sandwich and drinking her coffee with a good shot of Bailey’s.

“Same ol,’ same ol.’” I shrugged.

“How was them cleaning ladies?” She asked with her dark eyes fixed on me.

“Went to Stonehenge Park.” I told her.

“Ah, I used to love that place.” She laughed.

“It ain’t in Flatbush.” I cocked my head and squinted.

“I used to drive there when I drove truck.” She inhaled, “And I sit on the bench and watch the kids play on the playground.”

“What for? Seems like a silly thing to do. You being a grown woman and all.”

“I found out in my first marriage that I would not be able to has children.” She shook her head. “Hank my first huzbund left me cause of that.”

“I am sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I ain’t in the habit of tellin’ folks. Glenda found it one time.” She appeared crestfallen for a moment, but then said, “I learned memories are like ghosts.”

“Ghosts?”

“Yeah, they can come back and haunt ya sometimes.” She inhaled as she stared at her coffee cup, “I got a lot of stuff in the attic that don’t wish to be disturbed.”

“Yeah, me too.” I put my hands together in front of me and twiddled my thumbs. “I hope Ophelia don’t take me to some of those places.”

“What if she does.” She sat back and stared at me.

“I have no idea.” I shrugged.

The following Thursday, Ophelia burst into my room just like always. She unplugged my hot plate and scolded me. Then she told me to close my eyes and say the magic words.

I was running numbers on Front Street in Brooklyn. For a kid my age, I was making good coin, but then my mother found out and put the leather belt to my bare skin. I could not sit down for several days. She made me promise to give the money back to Mr. Zambonini who was running the off-track betting place.

“Kid, what’s up?” He asked sitting at his big desk smoking a stogie, the room was filled with the foul odor of his cigar.

“My mom caught me with the loot.” He reached in my pocket and pulled out my roll.

“You earned it.” He waved his hand at me, “You are one of my best number runners. Stick with me and I’ll make you a big shot.”

I had a choice to either do what he wanted me to do or continue going to mass with my mother. She had run my father off before I turned ten and she wanted me to grow up to be mayor of New York City or Pope. Whatever.

“What did you choose, Eli?” Ophelia asked me as I stood there in a quandary.

“I chose what I thought would be the easiest thing to do.” I stood there feeling the weight of the moment try to crush me like a cockroach. “I wanted to take the easy way out.”

“Despite the fact your best friend, Slade was his name?” Ophelia put her hand on my cheek. “Right?”

“Yeah.” I did not even look up at her.

“You could have gone in any direction, but you chose this one.” She sighed.

“Why did you bring me here?” I snapped.

“I wanted you to see this moment.” She crossed her arms and tilted herself backwards and looked at me as if she was passing judgment on me.

“I grew up a poor kid from Brooklyn.” I fell into the bench.

“So have a lot of people.” She turned her head a bit.

“Well, I’m not a lot of people.” I snapped again. “I was scared that I’d end up like my father.”

“You were given choices.”

“Who the hell are you anyway?”

“I am a cleaning lady.” Ophelia smiled, “You know that. I come every Thursday.”

“No, you are not a just a cleaning lady.” My chuckle is dry and humorless.

“You have the power to change things Eli.” She says as her smile does not faulter a bit, “I can direct you down a road that can change the outcome of your life. I can clean up the mess you have left behind.”

“How?” I hold out my hands.

“Follow me.” She beckons me with her finger. “Come take a chance and see what you life could have been.”

I was afraid. What if she was leading me to worse ending than where I already was?

“Have a seat.” Mr. Zambonini smiled when I entered his office, “I am so glad you decided to meet with me about your bright future.”

A couple of his stooges chuckled as I nodded before taking a seat. If my mother knew I was here, she’d grab me by the ear and lead me out, but I was a man now and even she could not stop me from working with the Big Boss, Mr. Zambonini. So this is what it was like to step into the big time. If my friends could only see me now.

“I need you to Eli to supervise a movement.” He said as he took a puff of one of his Cuban made cigars. If I was to wave away the acrid smoke, one of his goons would unceremoniously show me the door, so I just coughed politely putting my hand over my mouth.

“What kind of movement?” I asked forcing a smile. I had heard of how he made money by moving fake bonds to customers who did not know any better. It was all a racket.

“Security bonds.” He shrugged glancing over at Frank, his second in command. Frank just shrugged.

“This world is hard, ya know.” Frank piped in.

“These bonds will rise in value and make the owner a rich person for being smart.” He blew another cloud of smoke.

“Did they?” Ophelia asked as I stood and watched from her side. “You were willing to do this for him.”

“Yeah, I figured one day he’d owe me.”

“No, Eli, he owned you and you were willing to let him.” She shook her head.

There was a swirl of color and when it cleared I was sitting in the chair next to my bed.

“I thought you were gonna clean up my mess, but I’m right back here again.” I was angry.

“What did you expect?” Ophelia shrugged. “I have to be going now.”

“You promised-“

“I promised you nothing Eli Marshall.”

“You told me you were the cleaning lady.” I pointed my finger at her.

“I am.” She shook her head, “But you have to be willing to change. And so far that has not been the case. See you next Thursday.”

My dreams were flooded with memories of my jade past filled with the rough road of broken promises and betrayal. I went to the park to watch the kids run and play. Envy choked me like Mr. Zambonini’s cigar smoke, because these kids still had their futures ahead of them while I had to live with my past.

“Hey kid, you really screwed up this time.” Mr. Zambonini had me in his office for a “private” conversation. These private conversations sometimes ended badly which I feared would be my outcome. “I like you Eli, so I’m gonna give you one more chance.”

I sat there wondering what he wanted me to do. There was a voice screaming at me to leave while I still could. I did not listen to that voice.

The following Thursday, Ophilia did not come to the Meckley Manor.

“Ophilia called in.” Glenda told me when she walked in with a substitute, “This here is Gretchen. She’ll be taken Ophelia’s place.”

“How do you do?” I remained civil with this unexpected development. Gretchen came in and tidied up my room but did not say a word about being able to change my past. When she was finished she mile and walked out of my room. I remained sitting in my chair dozing off.

“Hands in the air.” Detective Ross told me as he came over to my car. “Hands in the air.”

I did as he requested since he had his service revolver drawn.

“You have the right to remain silent.” The uniformed officer began to read me my Meranda Rights.

“Open the trunk.” Detective Ross ordered after my rights were read to me. I hesitated, because I knew Mr. Zambonini had betrayed me in order to save his operation, but I opened the trunk before they put the handcuffs on me.

“Junk bonds.” Detective Ross opened the briefcase in my trunk. “Just as I thought.”

My lawyer Mr. Timoty Hanchet told me to take the plea deal offered of five years with good behavior at Sing-Sing since my crime was a federal offense.

Where the hell was Ophilia? She promised me that I could change my past memory and five years I wasted in a federal lock up. And the anger I had for Mr. Zambonini who hung me out to dry to save his own skin.

For the last twenty year, I did odd jobs due to my record and wound up living in this slum. It seemed like the weight of the world came down around my head when all was said and done.

When the cleaning ladies got done and left, I got my coat and hat to take walk to the park.

“Where are you going, Eli?” Gloria asked me as I opened the front doo.

“To the park.” I answered.

“Mind if I tag along?” She asked.

“If you want.” I held the door.

“Is it raining?” She asked as she tilted head back to see for herself. She carried an umbrella just in case.

“Just a sprinkle.” I shrugged.

“I got a question.” She glanced up at me.

“Shoot.” I glanced back at her.

“What would you change in your life if you could?” She asked.

“I dunno.” I shrugged.

“There are so many things I’ve thought about.” She chuckled, “But overall I’m just glad I still have the time to remember the good times and the not so good times. We get what we get.”

“But what if we could change some things?” I asked as we neared the park.

“I dunno know.” She sat on one of the benches, “What if we change something and our life turns out worse?”

“Have you been talking with the cleaning ladies?”

“How did you know?” She chuckled.

“Ophelia told me that I could go back and change the road I was on.” I explained.

“I was lucky to get this far.” Gloria shook her head. “I’d hate to start all over again. I just don’t think it would be worth it. When my final chapter is written, I want it to be complete.”

“But what if the ending isn’t what you wanted?” I shrugged.

“Who the hell cares.” Gloria smiled and shook her head, “All the people are care about are gone.”

“Me too.” I grinned.

“Those cleaning ladies’ hearts were in the right place, but I just don’t know if I can do it all again.” She emptied her pockets of bread crumbs and fed it to the birds who had gathered at our feet.

All that talk about changing things we had decided on a long time ago seemed to melt into the colorless sky. Our stories would remain the same. The roads we had traveled belonged to us and no one else.

“You may be on to something.” I pointed my finger at her.

Gloria leaned on my shoulder as the rain began to fall.