The dreams worsened. The garret was always white, always empty. It was excrutiating. I'd stand there, unmoving, waiting for snakes to fill the floor writhing or birds to fly screeching from the window. A fire. A flood. Something. Anything. That night I was still awake in my bed when my entire body shook once, violently. I dug for the key and watched the ceiling, half-hoping it would cave in. I couldn't stand it anymore. I ran up the stairs. My fingers fumbled with the lock before it finally gave and I twisted the knob and threw the door open.
Nothing. There was nothing in the room. White walls that probably hadn't been painted in a few years. A rugless floor. It was exactly as it had been in my nightmares. The scream I'd been saving up for this came out as an ugly kind of wince. I pounded on the walls. There had to be a secret compartment, a hidden passageway somewhere. All the knocks were solid sounds. The floorboards. It had to be the floorboards. I needed a crowbar. Perhaps in the garden shed.
Down the stairs and out the door. The door to the shed was stuck. It suddenly occurred to me that it was freezing outside and my hands were raw. It also occurred to me that I was running like a madwoman to get a crowbar so I could destroy my employer's home based on a suspicion that he committing some crime of a nature of which I couldn't define. I trudged back inside and ran a pennyroyal bath.
It wasn't fair. Whatever Fitcher was hiding could not be good. He wouldn't go to such extreme lengths to shroud something harmless. It wasn't a surprise party.
Fitcher's doorslam and the creak of his ascension to the garrett. There was a pause, followed by a new sound: the dragging of my forgotten keys from the lock.
My fight-or-flight instinct was only half developed.
She took my hand. "Come on," she said. "I want to take you out."
"Should I change my clothes?"
"Nah. Come as you are. Let's go."
"But the store's closed."
"Not for me." She pushed the doorbell.
A voice crackled from the speaker."Who is it?"
"Open up."
The door was opened by a rumpled, gray-haired man. He wore thick-framed glasses with no lenses. He looked itchy. "Really, Maleen?" he said.
"I didn't realize you were busy," she answered cooly.
The man sighed. I got the feeling he'd been awake for days. We followed him inside.
"You still haven't told me who this pretty lady is," he said. He fumbled for the light switch.
"She's my sister," Maleen replied.
The overhead lamps burst into life. The shop looked worn but elegant, with old-fashioned corners but angular counterspaces. It was like a long-estranged relative of the carriage house. And the glass! Everything that could ever be made of glass gleamed from wall to wall.
"My name is Annie." I said to the room.
Maleen walked among the shelves, running her fingers over the intricate contours of the vases and bottles and tumblers.
"I've never seen so much glass in one room before," I said.
Maleen smiled. "Did you hear that, Todd?"
"Be nice, Maleen."
I looked confused.
"Crystal is glass made with 10 percent lead. At least that's what it's supposed to be. That's why it sparkles. And that's why it's worth more. Although these days, any idiot can pass off glass as crystal."
"How many sisters do you have, Maleen?" he said playfully. "I've lost count."
"Well, Little Annie was taken away. She was raised in the forest."
"Ah."
"I was raised by a wolf," I said. "I still send her cards at Christmas."
The man laughed. "And a Christian, at that! How exotic. Annie, I'm Todd."
Maleen cleared her throat. "Don't get too attached to her, Mr. Todd. We need to get going."
"Of course." He surveyed the merchandise and punched the keys of what even I knew was an obselete cash register.
"Don't try to pull that inconvenience fee crap with me," Maleen warned. "I'm your best customer and you know it."
"Your sister says that every time," he said to me.
Maleen pulled four bills from her purse and put them into Todd's pudgy palm. "Keep the change. For your trouble."
"Hope to see you again," he said, suddenly cheery.
"You will," said Maleen. She handed me the bags.
"I wasn't talking to you," Todd called at us as we went back into the night.
"Here. This is it."
We were standing in front of an abandoned warehouse. There was an empty shop across the street with a rusty sign. It said, "Pies."
"What are we doing?"
Maleen reached into one of the bags. She unwrapped a snifter. "I like to start small," she said. She smoothed her hair and took a step back. Her chest rose as she took a deep breath. "Stand clear."
The snifter flew out of her hand and exploded against the bricks. "Now you," she said.
I took out my lonely jam jar and looked at it. It looked strange with nothing in it. Should have had rainwater, violets, a clod of dirt in it. It looked like a skeleton.
"Come on," said Maleen.
I reached backwards, jar in hand, and took a step forward. Its crash was less melodic than Maleen's snifter's, but no less satisfying.
I glanced at Maleen for approval. She laughed. "That's my girl! Do it again! Here, take some of mine."
We smashed crystal after crystal until we were both laughing hysterically.
"What a pretty mess," I said when it the last snifter lay in pieces on the glittering pavement. "I had no idea how -- how fun that could be."
"You've never wanted to break something just to see it break?"
"No."
"You ever get tired of being good?"
"No."
Maleen pulled a cigarette out of her pocket and lit it. She offered me one but I shook my head. I could smell the cheapness of the tobacco. Mami's stuff was ten times as potent. Its smoke was enough to choke me even by the time it drifted up from the shop or from the window, but even the odor of the imitation was enough to remind me that Mami still existed.
"Is there anything else you want to do?" said Maleen.
"Like what?"
"Anything you want."
Everything was sparkling around me --the rippling water at the docks, the shards littered under the street lamp, the mischief in Maleen's eyes, the stars in the sky. The city had no limits. I could do anything I wanted.
"I think I'll go home," I said.
Maleen dropped her cigarette butt and mashed it into the ground with the toe of her boot. "You sure? Don't want to get drink or anything?"
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"You don't sound like it."
"No, I am."
"I'll walk you to the underground."
Maleen reached for my arm but I'd already started walking away, pretending I knew where I was going. "No, that's all right. I'll be fine," I said. She looked confused but not quite hurt, so I kept going.
"Okay, good night!" she said. She waved awkwardly, as if she couldn't see me in some kind of fog.
"Good night!" My wave was just as uneasy.
Nothing. There was nothing in the room. White walls that probably hadn't been painted in a few years. A rugless floor. It was exactly as it had been in my nightmares. The scream I'd been saving up for this came out as an ugly kind of wince. I pounded on the walls. There had to be a secret compartment, a hidden passageway somewhere. All the knocks were solid sounds. The floorboards. It had to be the floorboards. I needed a crowbar. Perhaps in the garden shed.
Down the stairs and out the door. The door to the shed was stuck. It suddenly occurred to me that it was freezing outside and my hands were raw. It also occurred to me that I was running like a madwoman to get a crowbar so I could destroy my employer's home based on a suspicion that he committing some crime of a nature of which I couldn't define. I trudged back inside and ran a pennyroyal bath.
It wasn't fair. Whatever Fitcher was hiding could not be good. He wouldn't go to such extreme lengths to shroud something harmless. It wasn't a surprise party.
Fitcher's doorslam and the creak of his ascension to the garrett. There was a pause, followed by a new sound: the dragging of my forgotten keys from the lock.
My fight-or-flight instinct was only half developed.
She took my hand. "Come on," she said. "I want to take you out."
"Should I change my clothes?"
"Nah. Come as you are. Let's go."
"But the store's closed."
"Not for me." She pushed the doorbell.
A voice crackled from the speaker."Who is it?"
"Open up."
The door was opened by a rumpled, gray-haired man. He wore thick-framed glasses with no lenses. He looked itchy. "Really, Maleen?" he said.
"I didn't realize you were busy," she answered cooly.
The man sighed. I got the feeling he'd been awake for days. We followed him inside.
"You still haven't told me who this pretty lady is," he said. He fumbled for the light switch.
"She's my sister," Maleen replied.
The overhead lamps burst into life. The shop looked worn but elegant, with old-fashioned corners but angular counterspaces. It was like a long-estranged relative of the carriage house. And the glass! Everything that could ever be made of glass gleamed from wall to wall.
"My name is Annie." I said to the room.
Maleen walked among the shelves, running her fingers over the intricate contours of the vases and bottles and tumblers.
"I've never seen so much glass in one room before," I said.
Maleen smiled. "Did you hear that, Todd?"
"Be nice, Maleen."
I looked confused.
"Crystal is glass made with 10 percent lead. At least that's what it's supposed to be. That's why it sparkles. And that's why it's worth more. Although these days, any idiot can pass off glass as crystal."
"How many sisters do you have, Maleen?" he said playfully. "I've lost count."
"Well, Little Annie was taken away. She was raised in the forest."
"Ah."
"I was raised by a wolf," I said. "I still send her cards at Christmas."
The man laughed. "And a Christian, at that! How exotic. Annie, I'm Todd."
Maleen cleared her throat. "Don't get too attached to her, Mr. Todd. We need to get going."
"Of course." He surveyed the merchandise and punched the keys of what even I knew was an obselete cash register.
"Don't try to pull that inconvenience fee crap with me," Maleen warned. "I'm your best customer and you know it."
"Your sister says that every time," he said to me.
Maleen pulled four bills from her purse and put them into Todd's pudgy palm. "Keep the change. For your trouble."
"Hope to see you again," he said, suddenly cheery.
"You will," said Maleen. She handed me the bags.
"I wasn't talking to you," Todd called at us as we went back into the night.
"Here. This is it."
We were standing in front of an abandoned warehouse. There was an empty shop across the street with a rusty sign. It said, "Pies."
"What are we doing?"
Maleen reached into one of the bags. She unwrapped a snifter. "I like to start small," she said. She smoothed her hair and took a step back. Her chest rose as she took a deep breath. "Stand clear."
The snifter flew out of her hand and exploded against the bricks. "Now you," she said.
I took out my lonely jam jar and looked at it. It looked strange with nothing in it. Should have had rainwater, violets, a clod of dirt in it. It looked like a skeleton.
"Come on," said Maleen.
I reached backwards, jar in hand, and took a step forward. Its crash was less melodic than Maleen's snifter's, but no less satisfying.
I glanced at Maleen for approval. She laughed. "That's my girl! Do it again! Here, take some of mine."
We smashed crystal after crystal until we were both laughing hysterically.
"What a pretty mess," I said when it the last snifter lay in pieces on the glittering pavement. "I had no idea how -- how fun that could be."
"You've never wanted to break something just to see it break?"
"No."
"You ever get tired of being good?"
"No."
Maleen pulled a cigarette out of her pocket and lit it. She offered me one but I shook my head. I could smell the cheapness of the tobacco. Mami's stuff was ten times as potent. Its smoke was enough to choke me even by the time it drifted up from the shop or from the window, but even the odor of the imitation was enough to remind me that Mami still existed.
"Is there anything else you want to do?" said Maleen.
"Like what?"
"Anything you want."
Everything was sparkling around me --the rippling water at the docks, the shards littered under the street lamp, the mischief in Maleen's eyes, the stars in the sky. The city had no limits. I could do anything I wanted.
"I think I'll go home," I said.
Maleen dropped her cigarette butt and mashed it into the ground with the toe of her boot. "You sure? Don't want to get drink or anything?"
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"You don't sound like it."
"No, I am."
"I'll walk you to the underground."
Maleen reached for my arm but I'd already started walking away, pretending I knew where I was going. "No, that's all right. I'll be fine," I said. She looked confused but not quite hurt, so I kept going.
"Okay, good night!" she said. She waved awkwardly, as if she couldn't see me in some kind of fog.
"Good night!" My wave was just as uneasy.
