Grandma's House

11 Years Ago

Mom found me at the top of the stairs. It was a place I would come to almost every day. I don’t remember much from when I was a toddler, but I do remember that. I wasn’t allowed to go up the stairs on my own, but I did it anyway. Grandma didn’t mind. I spent most of my days with Grandma while Mom was at work. Maybe it was in an effort to make up for all the time spent away, but Mom worried about my every move while she was around. Grandma didn’t – she knew me better. She knew I was capable. So most days I found myself drawn to the top of the stairs at Grandmas. From there I could see into the bedroom with its window that overlooked Spruce Street. Except I never got a clear view out that window. Blocking the window was the shadow which kept drawing me upstairs.

Three Years Ago

Mom and Dad are fighting again. Mom isn’t around much because she’s always working, and Dad isn’t around much because he’s always out drinking. And driving. Which is why they’re fighting right now. Mom was making spaghetti and meatballs for my me and my brother when Dad came home hammered. That’s what it means when Dad’s drunk, because that’s what I hear my mom say to Sally on the phone after Dad’s passed out. That’s another phrase she says, which means Dad’s “sleeping it off”. My brother and I have gotten pretty used to them fighting so we go outside and down the street to play some basketball while they figure it out. Willy and Danny are there, and we get a game of Horse going. Willy and Danny live three doors down from us and we see them at the park almost every day, with Horse being our go-to game of the month. Willy and Danny are a year and two younger, respectfully, than my brother, who is two years younger than me. Despite the age difference, last year Willy reached as tall as me and now even taller. I’m still the better shot though. It was down to me and Willy when mom came skidding into the parking lot.

“Bridget! Freddy! In the car!”

“One second!” I say.

“Now!”

“But I almost got Willy beat!”

“NOW!”

I look over to my brother and he’s looking at me. His eyes are round. He doesn’t like when Mom’s mad – when anyone’s mad for that matter.

“See ya Willy we gotta go. Let’s finish tomorrow.”

With the innocence of unknowing my brother and I walk over to the car. I let Willy keep the basketball so they could keep playing – he was going to need the practice to try to beat me anyway. As we get closer to the car, I could tell that something was off. Mom’s eyes aren’t quite red like she’s been crying, but they’re tinged with a manic look. “Get in the car, we’re going to Grandma’s.” This isn’t the first time this has happened. I get in the front seat and my brother hops in the back. As we drive away, we can see Willy and Danny playing a game of one-on-one, Danny almost a foot shorter than his older brother on defense, as Willy sinks an easy shot on him.

As it turned out this was the first time this was happening. We went to Grandma’s where she said the pizza was on the way – no spaghetti and homemade meatballs for us. We stayed the night, and then the next night, and then over the weekend we went back to our house to pack our things, to stay at Grandma’s “for a while”. My mom brought her things into the spare bedroom at the side of the house upstairs. Freddy was going to stay in the living room for now. I brought my things into the upstairs bedroom where I would be staying, into the big bedroom that had a bed and a couch, and the window overlooking Spruce Street.

Now – Morning

It’s been three years now that we’ve been living at Grandma’s. It was confusing and sad at first, but it’s actually turned out to be pretty great. We didn’t see Dad for a long time after we moved out but now we spend time with him almost every weekend. Him and mom don’t fight anymore. He’s sober and I think they might actually be friends now. I don’t think they will get back together but it’s nice to see them get along for - well, for the first time in my life.

I started high school this year. School is a drag but it’s not all bad. In our county there are multiple elementary and middle schools, but there are only two high schools, the regional and the charter. On the first day of school it was a sea of some familiar but mostly unfamiliar faces flooding through the hallways, looking for lockers, looking for classes, looking for their cliques. I never really had a group of friends. It’s not that I wasn’t social – I was friendly with almost everyone – I just had never found that person or group to settle into like a place of home. Until now. The first week of school I was eating lunch and reading a book when Liza Berger sat across from me. The book was the latest Harry Potter book – Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. All the rage at the time, it was no surprise that Liza had read it too. It could have been anyone that sat across from me that day that had read it, but it had been Liza. She loves reading, writing, art, fashion, movies – she can talk about anything for hours and loves to do everything. She is my best friend. Most days after school we go to her house where her mom makes us snacks and iced tea and we go upstairs to her (huge) bedroom where we watch movies or play videogames until it’s time for me to go home for dinner. At lunch she says she has a good one for me today. I go to math class and count the minutes until it’s over.

Now – Night

I should not have watched that movie. What was she thinking showing me that movie? I don’t even like scary movies. I’m sweating. I can’t sleep. I asked mom if I could sleep with her tonight and she basically laughed at me, telling me I am way too old to be sleeping in her bed. It was just a movie. I’m glad she thinks this is funny; thanks Mom. Thanks Liza. My breathing is shallow and fast. I’m hot. I open the window next to the couch that I’m trying to sleep on. I’m on the couch instead of the bed because I can see the TV better and I need the distraction. It’s not working. A cool breeze pushes through the window, ruffling the half curtain, flashing shadows on the wall and carpet. On the TV is a movie I got at the video store on my way home from Liza’s – The Flintstone’s in Viva Rock Vegas. Just the kind of movie I thought I could use on a night like tonight, but it’s no use.

It’s almost Halloween so Liza and I have been watching scary movies all month. They’ve been growing on me until today. Today we watched The Exorcist. I’m not a religious person but my grandparents are. When I was younger, we would go to church with them on Sundays. I hated it. They preached things like - If I’m good I will see the ghost of Mary?I was terrified. I’m terrified now. I can’t get the images out of my head. Maybe I could see if mom will let me sleep with her again. No Bridget, focus on the movie. Don’t forget to breathe. Why am I sweating? Close your eyes, try to sleep…

I’m drifting off. Every now and then I twitch awake, but I keep my eyes closed, the movie is drawling on in the background of my consciousness, for now, almost asleep...

BANG

I fly upright, all the breath sucked out of my lungs, heart beating wildly. My head spins around to the window. The fucking window slammed shut! I almost fall to the floor as I scramble off the couch. It feels like all the air left the room with that goddamned slammed window. I’m fumbling through the dark, through the living room, into Mom’s room, my eyes pooled with water but not tears, too afraid, “MomIDon’tCareWhatYouSayI’mSleepingWith-“

She rolls over, more than half asleep as I crawl in. She murmurs something incomprehensible until she wakes and realizes what is happening.

“What are you-“

“Mom the window in my room, I can’t, I’m sleeping with you.” 

“Honey it’s just a bad dream. You are not sleeping with me, don’t be crazy. Go back to bed.”

“Mom I can’t.” Tears now. We sit like that for a moment, silent except for the crying. “I can’t.” Crying. She’s on her side, head perched on her hand, watching me. She touches my shoulder.

“Honey it’s okay. Listen. It’s okay. I’m not letting you sleep with me but if you want to sleep in my room, we can set up the air mattress.”

So that’s what we do.

Half an hour later I’m settled on the air mattress, blankets and pillows to my heart’s content thanks to Mom, but not as content as if she’d just let me sleep in bed with her. On the air mattress I’m closer to the window in her room than I would be on the bed. It’s unsettling, but at least the window isn’t open. And I’m hot but I won’t open it. I feel a little more comfortable knowing that Mom is in the room with me. Did I just imagine it? The power of persuasion can be a real thing, and I was scared from watching that movie. I just need to get some sleep, that’s all. Easier said than done. I still can’t quite breathe fully. I’m hot but I’m also shivering, and sweating at the same time. I think of songs and hum along. Mom doesn’t wake. I lay like that for a while, humming, starting to think I’m okay, humming, maybe it was a dream, hum…

Whoosh, SLAM –

I’m upright again and this time I’m not just sitting, I’m up and running. The closed window had thrown itself open just to slam itself shut, and this time I know I’m awake, I’m out the door, I’m running through the living room – SLAM – another window, I hit my leg on the coffee table and I don’t even notice I just run – SLAM – and I’m down the stairs in a flash, around the corner and into the kitchen, running toward the front door – SLAM – each window crashing down as if trying to pull the house down, I run past the kitchen island – SLAM – the whole house is shaking, I can hear laughter, but it doesn’t sound human, it’s echoing – SLAM – a piece of the ceiling falls next to me, it’s chasing me, the house is crumbling behind me, it’s loud, so loud, and then I make it; I burst into fresh air, I’m out the door and spilling off the front step into the yard - just in time. The house is convulsing, rumbling, and piece by piece the walls cave in, the roof collapses, I’ve never heard anything so loud, it crashes down and, in its place, a huge billow of dirt and debris flies into the sky, and all the while the laughter, the laughter…

I run. I run as fast as I can down the street but it’s dark and I trip and go flying. My knees and hands are scraped and bleeding, and I stay down, looking back at the house. My face is wet with tears that are evaporating off my hot skin. Mom… Grandma… Freddy…

I lay there and cry until my body and mind give out and I sleep.

Now – The Next Morning - Margot

The sun begins to peek into the sky as Margot walks out her front door to take her dog Frank out for his morning walk. She lives next door. She closes her door, turns toward the street, and sees a person laying in her front yard. She recognizes Bridget and hurries over to her with a bit of trepidation. She must have gone out with friends and had too much to drink, although Bridget was still so young and didn’t really strike her as a party girl. Frank goes over to investigate and with barely a touch Bridget is up and gasping for breath. “The house… my family…” she says over and over, pointing, shaking.

Now – The Next Morning – Bridget

I come-to on Margot’s front yard. Her dog Frank is licking my arm. I abruptly remember what happened and I’m bombarded with fear. I start (continue?) to cry. I turn around to face the wreckage, the grief, my life, gone, the destruction, but –

The house. It’s there. Like it always was. Four walls, the roof, windows gleaming the orange of the sunrise – how?

Slowly I stand up and take a step forward. I hear Margot’s voice but not her words. There is a buzzing in my head, the kind you hear in silence but amplified by a thousand. Now I don’t even hear Margot anymore; I just take step by heavy step closer to the old house. The gray siding, the navy shutters. It’s all seemingly there. That means –

Mom comes barreling out the front door, the screen banging against the side of the house.

“Bridget! Where have you been? I woke up and you weren’t in my room, you weren’t in your room, where did you go? Bridget-“

She grabs me and hugs me, and I go through the motion of putting one arm mechanically around her in a gesture of a half-hug, but I’m looking at the house, I don’t understand; how can it be?”

Grandma and Freddy are in the yard now too, confused looks on their faces, coming to see what all the commotion is. Mom lets me go and one tired, plodding step at a time I walk closer to the house. It’s all here. They’re all here. How is this possible? God I’m so tired. A dream? I’m almost at the front now and my eyes are transfixed on my bedroom window. Was it really all a dream?”

And then, so close to the front of the house my neck is craning to look up at the window, I see it. There, in the window, is the shadow of a figure, a man.

He grins at me and waves.