Time Out
Hello, Readers—
I just got the final edits for The Side Door, and they are going to keep me busy for the next several weeks. As a result, I will not be posting Opal stories for a while, but she will be back; I promise. Her story continues to unfold.
In the meantime, wish me luck on my edits.
The Side Door is scheduled for publication July/August 2010. I am in the process of planning a book tour and various other activities to promote the novel.
So I’ll keep you posted.
All good thoughts,
Jan
Hands Again
Seated in the cafeteria at a table with Jamie, Opal stuck her spoon inside a cup of vanilla pudding.
“What’s she doing in here?” Jamie asked.
Opal looked up to see the school principal, Ms. Esterholt, wandering between tables, looking over shoulders at what the kids were eating.
“She never comes into the cafeteria,” Opal said.
Jamie nodded.
Opal kept her eyes trained on the principal and noticed when she stopped to talk with one of the cafeteria workers, a tiny woman named Fen who always gave Opal extra pudding cups. For some reason, Opal kept watching, as if something might happen. And that’s when Opal noticed Fen’s hands. Fen held them both up in an effort to explain something to Ms. Esterholt. Those hands reminded Opal of something. Of someone.
“What’s the matter?” Jamie asked. “You look like something terrible happened.”
In fact, Opal’s eyes had grown wide. She could feel them stretch.
She stood up and walked over to where Fen stood with Ms. Esterholt. Both women stopped talking. Ms. Esterholt, from her tall perch on high heels, looked down at Opal. Fen, just barely taller than Opal, had questions in her eyes.
“What is it?” Ms. Esterholt said, sounding a bit impatient.
Opal stared at Fen’s hands.
“What?” Fen said. “I forget something?”
Opal looked closely at Fen’s right hand, and there was no mistaking it. It was the exact same hand that had been attached to the arm of the big man by the mailbox. The one who had given Opal the key—over a week ago now.
Fen smiled at Opal.
“You go sit. I bring you extra pudding. Promise.” Fen pushed at Opal with those same little hands.
Opal did as she was told. She went back to her table and waited.
“You’re being weirder than usual,” Jamie offered.
Opal nodded. “Sorry,” she said.
“I gotta go,” Jamie said, sliding her clarinet case under her arm. “Band practice.”
Opal waited a moment more. And sure enough, Fen came over.
“You be careful,” Fen said as she handed Opal a pudding cup.
“What? Why?” Opal asked.
Fen reached out and touched the key hanging from Opal’s neck.
“Should not wear for everyone to see,” Fen said. “You cannot know who will want key. Keep under shirt, close to heart.”
“But,” Opal said, “Who are you?”
“Me?” Fen smiled. “I Fen. You know me.”
“But—” Opal said.
“You find the lock that fits the key, yes?”
“No,” Opal said. “I have no idea.”
“You find the lock,” Fen said. “Important you find the lock.”
“How can I—” Opal began.
“Must go now,” Fen said.
Opal watched Fen walk back toward her work station. And then she lifted the key from around her neck and gave it one long look before sliding it under her shirt. On her way to her Art History class, Opal could feel the cold metal as it tapped against her skin.
The Big Man with the Tiny Hands
Opal leaned against the mailbox, trying to catch her breath.
What was she supposed to do now? Her choices seemed so completely hopeless. She could either go back home, but that would just mean packing her things and staying with Aunt Mildred until Aunt Frances recovered. Opal had been there before, and she didn’t want to do it again.
She felt a raindrop hit her hair and then her nose, and that’s when she realized she had left the house with only a sweater, a pair of jeans, and her sneakers. No coat. No hat. No scarf. And what’s more, no food, no money, no place to go but back from where she came.
And suddenly a shadow covered her. She looked up, expected a great big cloud, but it was a great big man instead. A really fat, hairy man.
“Hello, there,” he said.
Opal tightened her lips and stood up straight. Her heart began to beat a little faster, and her eyes opened at the edges to see beyond this one huge creature.
“Do not speak to strangers,” Aunt Frances’ voice came through to Opal.
“Don’t be afraid,” the hairy man said.
Opal felt trapped between this man and the mailbox, but she stepped sideways, took a sharp turn and began walking in the direction of her house.
“I have something for you,” the man called after her.
Opal kept walking.
“Please.” Opal could hear the man huffing and puffing behind her. “I know I’m a stranger and you’re supposed to ignore me, but I have something you want.”
Opal did not look back. She walked faster.
“It’s from your mother,” the man called out.
Opal stopped.
“From Mabel. Your mom.”
Opal turned and stared into the man’s eyes. “How do you know my mom?”
“It doesn’t matter,” the man said. “I’m just a messenger.”
Opal narrowed her eyes.
“Here,” the man reached his hand toward Opal, his loose fist held something shiny. Opal could see it through the cracks in his fingers. She also noticed that his hand was small, like a woman’s hand. It did not match his bulk.
“What is it?” Opal asked.
The man opened his fist, and in the palm of his hand lay a shiny key. It was golden, that key, and Opal could see something engraved on the top of it.
“Go ahead. Take it,” the man said.
Opal hesitated then lifted it from his hand. She looked closely and saw that the engraving was a tree—an autumn tree with some leaves still clinging and some leaves falling.
In all of her short life, Opal had never seen a key like that. When she looked up to ask the man what it meant, he was gone. Vanished. Just like that.
How could a man so big and ugly just up and disappear? Opal wondered.
She looked back at the key in the palm of her hand. It glittered there.
Slippers
Opal had no choice but to phone Aunt Mildred and tell her about Aunt Frances.
Opal missed the days, not that long ago, when Aunt Frances had a snack waiting for Opal after school—usually an apple muffin and a glass of milk or a piece of pound cake and a cup of weak tea. And then the two of them would pile onto the couch and watch late afternoon talk shows. When the news came on, Aunt Fran and Opal prepared dinner: toast and scrambled eggs or red beans and rice.
But ever since last Tuesday, Aunt Fran stopped doing anything except sitting and staring; and now, lying down and staring straight up at the ceiling.
And so Opal had no choice.
Aunt Mildred barreled through the front door without even ringing the bell.
“Where is she?” Aunt Mildred demanded from beneath the wool hood of the tan coat she wore every winter for the last 12 years, as far back as 14-year-old Opal could recall. Opal pointed toward the bedroom, and Aunt Mildred walked in, closing the door behind her.
Opal sat in the big chair by the window, looking out at the street and sky. “Please, Please, Please,” she said aloud. “Make her get mad enough to get out of bed.” Opal spoke to no one in particular—maybe God, if there was one, maybe just to the air. Sometimes talking out loud made wishes come true.
A thumping sound made Opal leap off the chair. Just then, Aunt Mildred opened the bedroom door as one of Aunt Frances’ slippers came sailing behind and hit Aunt Mildred in the head. Opal noticed the other slipper lay on the floor, presumably having been the cause of the earlier thump.
Aunt Frances stood next to her bed, her gown all crumpled, her eyes more lively than Opal had seen in days. “Get her out of my house,” Aunt Fran screamed.
Opal smiled inside, thinking that her out-loud wish had come true. But then, just as if the slipper throwing had never happened, Aunt Frances sat back down on the bed, the blank look in her eyes replacing her previous fire.
“Let’s pack her things,” Aunt Mildred said.
Opal felt so mad at Aunt Frances she could hardly stand it. They had talked about this, Opal and Aunt Fran—that the next time she had one of her spells, she would snap out of it, for Opal’s sake.
“You’re supposed to snap out of it!” Opal screamed.
Opal picked up one of the slippers and threw it at Aunt Frances, hitting her in the leg. And before Opal could throw the other slipper, Aunt Mildred took hold of her arm and stopped her.
Opal looked from Aunt Mildred to Aunt Frances. She had no words. Her throat closed up, and she ran past Aunt Mildred, through the kitchen, past the sink full of dirty dishes, and out the back door.
Lonely
Aunt Frances appeared to retreat deep into the couch, the TV providing the only light in the room. Opal sighed. She put her hand on Aunt Frances’ arm. But Aunt Frances kept her eyes on the TV. Blank eyes. They were not really looking at anything. Or maybe, Opal thought, they were looking inside instead of out.
It used to be that Aunt Frances’ spells only lasted a day or so and then she would be back to her old self—wanting to plan hikes and camp outs and movie dates. But lately, the spells lasted longer than her good days, and Opal had taken on the duties of housecleaning, answering the phone, and cooking dinner.
And so Opal finally said out loud what she had been thinking for days: “It’s not fair.”
She waited for Aunt Frances to offer one of her sayings such as, “Whoever said life was fair?” Or “Complaining is easy. Work is hard.” But Aunt Frances only stared ahead, as if no thoughts occurred to her now or ever.
Opal pushed further and said, “You’re supposed to be my guardian, and you’re not doing a very good job.”
Aunt Frances turned her gaze to Opal; and in that instant, Opal could see right inside Aunt Frances to a place that was cold and lonely and scary. Opal, unprepared for that sight, gasped a little. This was not the first time Opal had seen inside another person. Opal had a gift that way. But all the times before, she had seen inside strangers. This was different. This was Aunt Frances.
An icy wind blew from behind Auntie Fran’s eyes and out into the room. Opal shivered.
Opal felt exactly how Aunt Frances felt, and she did not like it one bit.
“You must be so cold!” Opal said.
Opal did not know how to fix Aunt Frances, but she did know how to warm her up. Opal put another log on the fire. She tucked the afghan tighter around Aunt Frances, and then she curled up next to her. For now, that would have to do.