Fiction: The Girl in the Closet
~ ~ 01 ~ ~
The closet is Ida's whole world. In this small space, she has everything she needs and wants. And if it isn't there, she would close her eyes for a moment and open them to find it right in front of her.
Today, Ida notices the noise outside her closet is different than before. Even though she tunes them out, she is accustomed to the many footsteps, various voices, the fast and slow shuffling of all the movements all around the house. Today, the noise have lessened, as if there are less of them.
Outside, the Notch family's belongings are in boxes while Ida's closet sits among them in the center of the livingroom. In contrast with the gleaming wooden floor, the closet looks dull. After many years, the closet is now off-white with the corners a darker hue from the worn-off paint. Overtime, the closet has been shifted from room to room but it has never been opened.
About twenty years ago, Henry Notch had promised to fulfill his grandmother's dying wish to preserve the closet as it is in their house but she had never said why.
Today, as Henry surveys the large closet, he thinks about his promise. Perhaps it is time he moves the closet to a permanent home. There is a storage facility just a few miles outside of town. He would pay a yearly fee and be done with the whole thing. And yet, he can't help but think he would be disloyal if he does that. But the house has been sold and does this not mean he can't keep his promise? Perhaps the new owner wouldn't mind having it in their attic. But Henry puts the thought away for another day. There is still two weeks left to decide.
~ ~ 02 ~ ~
There is no mistake, the noise outside has changed. Ida hears only one pair of feet moving around the house - one human heart beating plus the slow pulse of the fish in its little water home. The lone voice echos faintly as if it is trying to fit into this larger space. Day and night, the kettle screams. The sound of pacing vibrates through Ida as she lies on the floor of the closet. Her heart throbs a bit too quickly whenever the person pauses, as if they are standing too close to her. Her mind races, searching for explanations but she can't find one.
For years, Ida has lived in the closet all alone. Sometimes listening, sometimes not. She has not known anywhere else other than the worlds she reads in her books. In her dreams, she has always played with imagined people and is contented to do so. But she doesn't sleeps much now. Her small space is no longer serene. Her world is no longer a cloister - the outside is invading and forcing her attention toward it. And yet, she can do nothing to change it. She lies on her side and thinks about her birth.
It was a fine day, not a cloud in the sky as Grandmama said. And yet, Ida's mother, Serena, had chosen to give birth inside this closet. She must not be in her own mind as Grandmama said time and again.
Ida only remembers fuzzy images but the voices has been clear even to her half-aware mind. How she understood what was said, she couldn't explain, even now.
Serena, must we keep the child in the closet? said Grandmama.
Yes, Mother, Ida must live in the closet or else she will die outside! Serena's voice was rushed and low.
But this is not normal. A child needs to be outside, to learn, to play, to enjoy nature!
The closet will provide everything she needs right here, all here! said Serena.
Ida has fell asleep before she heard more. But she has always remembered her mother's words: She will die outside!
~ ~ 03 ~ ~
Henry, again, as he sips another cup of black tea, peers at the closet from across the room where he sits on a chair cushion he has yet to pack up. He misses his family. Why has he thought to do this alone?
Yesterday, he has spoken to the new owners and they did not want a closet that took up space and couldn't be used. Who would?
He sighs. He is used to being able to solve any and all problems but this? Perhaps he should look inside the closet. The thought has occurred to him many times and yet, he chose to ignore it. What if there is nothing inside? But if that is so, then why did it took three men to move it from the attic to down here? He puts the cup on the floor and stands up. He must look inside and then he would know if he needs to keep his promise.
He grabs hold of both knobs of the closet doors but neither door would budge. A while ago, one of his kids tried to open it but it was locked. He looks around him. Yes, there is a key Grandma had left him in her will. He begins prying open the boxes, ripping off tapes and fumbling through the neatly packed things until he finds the envelope with all the keys.
A few moments later, he stands looking at the double doors of the closet. He imagines the stern face of his grandmother saying, "No, Henry, you mustn't!" But he must. He opens the double doors and then, he laughs.
There is nothing in the closet but junk — stuff animals, broken toys, stain-covered pillows, worn paperbacks, faded hardcovers, notebooks filled to the brim with scribblings, old board games, a tricycle, a sleeping bag and more things than can fit inside such a small space. Why does his grandmother wants him to protect these junk? But then he spots something odd - a ceramic pot painted in pale gold with red letters. He moves a few things aside and enters the closet. He bends down and peels of the strip of tape over the lid of the pot. The scent of wood and earth fills the air. He lifts the lid and peeks in. What is this? He puts the lid back and lifts the pot high so the light falls on it and reads the word painted there: Ida N. Is he seeing things? He lifts the lid and looks inside again. Yes, it is what he has first thought. This is what his grandmother wants him to protect. But why is it left here?
~ ~ 04 ~ ~
The man is tall with a gray-black beard. His large eyes roam all over the closet but they don't land on her. Ida jumps up and down and waves a hand in front of his face but he ignores her as if she isn't there. Is she invisible to him?
Behind him, the outside world looks a bit spare. But then Ida knows, this isn't the outside world. It is the house her closet is in. She has read in a book about families moving their things in brown boxes. Is the family moving? Is she to go with them?
The man enters the closet and starts shifting her things around. Ida wants to shout at him to stop but she has never spoken to anyone before. She has promised not to, not unless Grandmama gives her permission. But Grandmama isn't here.
But Ida barely registers the man removing a pot out of the closet. Her attention is on the things around the house. Everything she sees fascinates her - the large brown boxes with scribbles, the television, the few photographs on the wall, the books, the coffee mugs, the chair cushions, even the fuzzy carpets. There is the fish inside its glass home - she has named him Waffles. The sound of birds chirping allures her. She spots no birds but they are probably outside through those large windows. If she goes out, she would probably see them. Dare she go beyond the threshold of her closet?
Her mother's words comes back to her: She will die outside! And yet, as Ida stands at the edge of the closet, she doesn't feel any different. Tentatively, she puts one foot forward and follow with the other foot. Then she takes another step and another. She peers down at her bare feet. They are beyond the threshold of the closet. She doesn't feel anything funny. But she is not outside, just outside the closet, she reasons but it is still outside.
She runs and twirls around the room. Sunlight from all the curtainless windows makes everything bright and new. Has her mother been wrong? Perhaps it is only the beginning that Ida couldn't go out. After all, in her books, some people are born sick and had to stay indoor but in time, their bodies adjusted and they are able to go outside. That must be it. It is just that when her mother died, Ida has clung to the security of the closet and never wondered about going outside of it. Until now.
~ ~ 05 ~ ~
Henry looks down at the gravestone. The white stone has nice round corners and little etchings of ivies surround Ida's name. He s certain this is the proper thing to do. "Rest in peace, Ida," he says. He turns to the gravestone beside Ida's. "Aunt Serena, I hope you are happy reunited with your daughter." Turning to the third stone, "I'm sorry, Grandma, I couldn't keep my promise but I hope this is better." He turns to go. But he hears a laugh. He turns around. There is a little girl in a white gown, bare-footed and dancing around the graveyard. Sunlight fills his vision and he turns away and when he turns back, the girl is gone. But he smiles as he walks away.
Ida dances around the sunlit garden of paradise. Certainly, it must be some kind of paradise with all the flowers, trees and pretty stones. Ida is certain this is the outside her grandmama had talked about. There are so many new things to see and explore. She giggles as she runs round and round a giant tree which she cannot see the tip as it reaches far up toward the sky. She wouldn't get bored here and if she does, she would go elsewhere. The world is a vast place. The more steps she takes, the more she will see.
I'm glad Ida is now free, and so is Henry.
ReplyDeleteUnexpected - and intriguing. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteWhat Elephant's Child said! Also bittersweet.
ReplyDeleteThis reminds me of a French novelette I once read, well done.
ReplyDelete