Half Collapsed

Half Collapsed

By REi K

Dedicated to Gina Thurston,

whose life story was my inspiration for writing this book.

Copyright 2015

Maple Leaf Writing Project

Brattleboro, VT

“There is always one moment in childhood when a door opens and lets the future in.” -Graham Greene

I touched the glass that was separating me and Minnesota. It was a rainy August morning in 1979. That ride in the rental car felt like it took about a century because, while my parents and sisters couldn’t wait to get to the half-collapsed barn we were moving to, I really wanted to stay in Minnesota. My parents told me that Quebec would be a lot like Minnesota--lots of trees, cold winters--but I knew it would be far from the same.

“Our flight is at 11:45 to Hartford, Connecticut.” My mother said, wrinkling up her face like she always did when she was trying to scrape the leftovers out of her memory. “We’ll be arriving around 2:00 with a two-hour layover there, and then we’ll--” I often thought she talked too much. Apparently, so did my father.

“OK, Honey, we got it.”

“Are you sure Morgan? I mean, what if one of the girls gets separated or--”

"Rita, don’t worry,” my father interrupted as he hit the pedal when the traffic light turned green. I wanted it to stay red. I wanted life to stop. I wanted to stay in Minnesota. But being the middle sister of three, I never got what I wanted.

“Do me and Laina get a separate room?” Amara asked, grabbing on to our mother’s seat and leaning in close, right up to Mom’s face, like she did to me whenever she thought there was something missing from her drawer. “Because I really don’t think I can stand three more years with her stealing stuff from me all the time. I’ve told her that if we’re going to share a room, she’s going to need to ask me before taking my things, but--”

“Shut up, Amara!” I yelled at her. I stared at the tall green sign on the highway that said, ‘Neblett International Airport’.

“Girls, stop. You’re sisters, and there’s no reason to fight.” Dad told us. Amara and I stopped fighting immediately, but she stuck her tongue out at me.

Every little thing about my older sister bugged me: her wavy dirt-colored hair, those cold, dark eyes that I couldn’t bear to look into, her voice, her ears, her nose. Our entire childhood, Amara and I were always fighting and it was strange because we both got along perfectly with Sabra. She is six years younger than Amara and five years younger than me.

“What airline are we on?” My father said.

“Pan American for both.” my mother responded. “I hope there are no delays, I really want to get there as soon as possible.”

I used to wish my father wasn't a journalist. I thought it would make life so much easier because by the time I was seven, I had moved from Washington, to New York, then to Portland, and finally to Minnesota. When we moved to Minnesota I thought that we had finally found the place we were going to stay for the rest of our lives.

"Sabra?" I remember my mother saying and turning around with a slightly disgusted cringe. "Can you... Can you not suck your thumb?"

"But I like it."

"I know you do, honey, but sometimes we need to move on."

"Why?" I asked in a cold tone as my eyes went narrow.

"Now Laina." my mother said, with a knowing glare.

I turned to Amara who was looking out the window. Then to Sabra who was still sucking her thumb. She looked up at me and motioned for me to be quiet.

"We're here!" our father said enthusiastically.

"Yay!" Sabra shouted as her thumb popped free from between her baby teeth, spraying bits of saliva.

I wasn't ready yet. I gripped my seat belt as I felt forced to unbuckle it. Everyone got out as I slowly followed.

"Everyone grab your bags." our mother said lifting our bags out of the rental car's trunk and putting them on the ground.

I bent down and my fingers coiled unpleasantly around a handle with orange and green stripes. My body started trying to move, but my feet wouldn’t budge. It was almost as if my feet were attached to the ground by roots. I didn't want to, but I had to pull until finally my feet dragged an inch, then another.

As we boarded our plane, I still didn't feel any excitement or even nervousness at all. During both flights, I tried to sleep so I’d forget what was happening, but Sabra and Amara kept waking me up with their chatting and giggles. When we finally got to Quebec, it hit me that this whole chapter of my life wasn’t a dream. For the fifth time in my life, I was moving to another place where I had to be careful not to get attached to anybody because if I did it would just make moving to another place even more painful than it already was.

“Don’t worry, about a thing. ‘Cause every little thing, is gonna be alright.” I hummed to myself as I hit my head repeatedly against the new rental car’s window as we made our way to our new “home.” When we arrived, everyone else ran off exploring the yard excitedly. Their voices faded into the distance as I stepped out of the car and stared at the house, open-mouthed. The outside was all wood that looked like it had been cut down by pioneers in the early 1800’s. There was a crumbling brick chimney, and the front step on the porch had a hole in it. When I reached the door, I leaned against the doorframe that was falling apart and looked inside. I saw that it wasn’t only the outside of the house that looked ancient. The walls were covered with cobwebs and wallpaper that was creeping its way off the wall.

A feeling slowly came over me. A bad feeling. This house hated my family and me. As I stared inside, it was staring back through all the dust, giving me a cold glare.

“The Quinns left us their piano.” My father said opening a lid that revealed a set of crackled white and black keys.

“How sweet.” my mother responded. She started playing some tunes she had learned when she was young. Just by the sound you could tell it was old. But the sound was still smooth like one of those pianos that you’d hear in old pubs or bars.

We ate sandwiches made from the Minnesota bread my mother had packed, and, exhausted from the trip, we went upstairs to our bedrooms--a separate one for each of us girls--rolled out our sleeping bags and went to sleep.

In the middle of the black night, my eyes flared open. My ears filled with the sound. Somebody was playing the piano. It’s probably just Mom. She probably just couldn’t sleep. I told myself. But just to be sure, I called her name. “Mom? Mom?” She didn’t answer so I called again louder, “Mom?”

“Yes?” Her half awake voice said.

“Oh My God!” I yelled realizing that she wasn’t playing the piano, “Somebody broke in and they’re playing the piano! Listen!” We listened in silence. “Huh. It stopped. But I heard something.”

“Go to sleep. It was your imagination.”

“But--”

“Laina! You’re tired. Get some rest, we’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

I laid there in my bed that night, waiting to hear noise coming from downstairs but there wasn’t any and the next time I opened my eyes, sun was shooting through my window.

“Laina woke me up last night saying someone was playing the piano.” My mother whispered to my father as I walked down the stairs.

“Really?” My father said raising his eyebrows.

“I heard something. I swear.” I said interrupting my parents. “You don’t have to believe me but I heard something and I know that this house hates us. Whatever we do, it will and I’m serious.”

“Okay. Whatever you say.” My father said.

I shook my head and walked away.

The day flew by as we unpacked, and I tried to settle into the unlikeable house and figure out what I had heard the night before. I bet my mother’s right. It probably was just my imagination, I thought to myself and I closed my eyes and fell asleep in my bed.

I woke up the next morning to the smell of breakfast cooking.

“Good morning.” My mother said as she flipped a pancake. “Any noises last night?”

“Not that I remember.”

“Honey,” My mother started as she twisted the burner off and sat down with me at the table with a new floral tablecloth. “I know moving has been very hard. It’s been hard for everyone. But it’s not okay to make up stories....”

“You think I’m making it up?”

“Yes.” She said folding her hands together. “We do. And I understand why you are.”

“No, you don’t understand.” I got up from the table and stomped away.

“Honey, wait!”

I stormed outside and sat under a shaded tree, tears streaming down my face. I noticed something moving on the bark of the tree. Wiping my eyes, I saw that it was a ladybug crawling up the tree. I put my hand in front of it. It crawled onto my fingers but it flew away with the wind. I watched it until it disappeared. Then, something caught my eye. There was a carving in the tree that said ‘GM’.

“Laina?” I heard Sabra’s voice call. I looked over and she was standing on the porch, “Laina?”

“Coming!” I ran to her, “You believe me don’t you?”

“Yes. I’ll always believe you.” She gave me a smile and said, “Let’s go inside. Will you help me unpack my room? I want it to be great!”

“Okay." I said grabbing her hand.

By the end of the day, we had finished unpacking. Each sister with our own new bed. But I chose my old sleeping bag on the floor.

That night I woke up. I looked around. You know, I thought to myself, I was so hung up on hating this house that I made it hate me in my mind. I’m so tired. Go to sleep. I closed my eyes but I was still awake. Everything's okay. But I still couldn't sleep. I opened my eyes and my spine went icy when I realized what I saw. A lady wearing an orange blouse. Her head covered with sandy blonde hair. She looked at me and smiled.

"MOM!" I screamed, "DAD! HELP THERE'S A LADY IN MY ROOM!"

I heard running down the hallway, "Honey! We're coming!"

But by the time they were in my room, the lady was gone.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" My father asked.

"A lady. She was standing right there!" I said pointing right in front of me.

"Where?"

"There! She smiled at me and... She -- She..."

"Laina. Honey, I thought we talked about this." My mother said shaking her head.

"It must be that TV show. What is it? The zone? The Twilight Zone? I thought you weren't allowed to watch that!" My father yelled at me.

"I’m not and I'm not lying!" I said slamming my fists against the wood floor.

"We know you’re upset about the move, but this has got to stop." My father said crossing his arms. “Just get to sleep. There will be some consequences tomorrow. Come on Rita, let's go."

They left my room and tip toed down the hallway. I heard their door close. I closed my eyes and eventually fell asleep.

Over the next months, I saw the lady more and more and heard the piano too, but I was still the only one. Once I saw her gardening in a huge thunderstorm, once dusting some cabinets in the kitchen and several other times until I stopped seeing her. I’d look around, behind every door, under every bed but she was no where to be found.

One night I got up to get a snack and I told myself You’ll never see her again. But I still had so many questions. Why had I only seen her? Who was she? So many questions that would never be answered. I opened the refrigerator door, grabbed some leftovers and sat at the table alone. Then a light appeared in front of me and there the lady sat. Glistening before my eyes. My mouth opened to scream but I held it in taking a deep breath and looking right into her eyes.

“Who… Who are you?” I asked her holding back my fear.

The lady grabbed a napkin that had been sitting in a basket on our table and she wrote “GM”. She kept on writing, “You don’t need to be scared. I just want to help you.”

“Why me? How do you know who I am?”

She picked up the pen she had been writing with, “I know much more than you think I do.”

“How? And if you’ve been trying to help me then why won’t you show yourself to my family? You probably see how much they tease me and how much--”

She then put her finger up to my lips. I stopped talking as she took her hand away and started to write again. “Laina, things will change soon. You will no longer see me. Things will get better for you. I promise.”

“But, I have so many questions to ask you! Please just answer some!”

GM looked up at me and smiled her smile I’d seen a million times before. She put her hand on my hand, got up and walked away.

“Wait! I need you! I want you!”

She turned her head, gave me a sorry look and disappeared into thin air.

Like GM had said, I did stop seeing her and things did get better. Amara and I started getting along and I started to like the house more.

“Laina?” My father said one time as I sat down with a bowl of cereal at breakfast.

“What?”

“I just want to say that I’m sorry about not believing you when you said that you saw the lady because--”

“Morgan?” My mother called walking into the room, “Oh am I interrupting anything?”

“No honey. What’s up?” My father lied.

“Come with me. I want to show you what I want to do with the bathroom.” My mother said grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the bathroom. He looked back at me with the same expression GM had as she had walked away too.

I wanted to know what my father was about to say. Had he seen her too? Had my mother? I would never know because I knew he’d never bring it up again and I was too scared of the truth to ask him. Had GM come back to see my father and not me? If she had I was going to be devastated.

The years flew by and Amara, Sabra and I were all married. We’d all come back to the old house in Quebec to see our parents for two weeks in the Summer with our husbands and in the Summer of 2000, Amara brought her two year old son, Travis with her. He was the most adorable kid I had ever seen. He looked exactly like Amara with his beautiful brown hair and his big dark eyes and so curious. Although he looked like my sister his personality reminded me of myself as a young child, always looking for ways to find new things.

One Summer night, everyone was outside trying to catch fireflies in the yard. They lit up the vast area of land like lights in a grocery store.

“I caught one!” Sabra said holding up a jar that had a little light in it.

“Nice!” I said to her.

“I caught one too!” Amara’s husband said.

I swooshed my mason jar around in the air hoping that a firefly would fly into it but none did. I never remember being that lucky with bugs and animals when I was a child. Once, when I was seven I kept a cricket in a fish bowl with leaves and grass but by the end of the day it had died.

“Wait!” Travis said in his adorable baby accent, “Who dat?”

“Who?” Amara asked.

“Dat lady in da window. She was waving and smiling at me.”

Then everyone turned to look at me.