Housekeeping

---

Grandpa was born in the plains.

It was absolutely flat, all around,

for hundreds of miles.

He thought the whole world

was like that.

Even the house

was dug out of the ground.

Then, one momentous day,

he found out about mountains.

He must have found

a picture in a book.

He was amazed.

It became an obsession.

He drew and painted mountains

endlessly.

Mount Fujiyama,

the Alps, the Rockies.

He painted mountains all his life.

Before we were even born, he was

lying at the bottom of Fingerbone Lake.

in the wreckage of a train.

There were lots of mountains there.

That's the way

the family story went.

It was a good enough story,

but there were other things

we wanted to know.

For instance,

where was our father?

Nobody even mentioned him.

Where are the seagulls, Lucille?

I don't know.

Let me put the bread

right down here.

Hey!

Hi, Charlie!

You girls get inside.

Get inside, now.

Hey.

If you get inside

I'll bring you some custard.

Okay, Bernice.

Hey.

Guess what.

We're going to see Grandma.

In Bernice's car.

Didn't know I could drive,

did you?

No.

You shouldn't be smoking, ma'am.

Nice kids.

Sometimes they are.

Sometimes I live in the town

Sometimes I take a great notion

to jump in the river and drown

Eleven!

What are you counting?

- Horses.

- And cemeteries.

Come on, girls.

Come on. This way.

Years later, Lucille and I still

talked about the trip to Grandma's

Lucille would remember one thing,

and I another,

until we'd pieced together

the whole journey.

We tried so hard that we ended up

not knowing what we really remembered

from what we had just imagined.

And we often fought

over the details.

Grandma's at church,

but you're gonna wait here

and give her a nice surprise.

She'll be home in a little while,

okay?

Hm-hmm.

Where are you going?

I have to go

somewhere in the car.

But you're going to be good girls,

now, aren't you?

Here are some cookies.

And don't fight over them.

You'll stay inside, now,

won't you?

Ruthie?

When Grandma comes home you

can tell her you've been good girls.

Now, tell me "Cheerio".

Cheerio.

Can't we come, too?

But, then, nobody

would be home for Grandma.

Stay here.

Where's she going?

Oh, she was

about 5'8" and three quarters.

A little taller than I am.

Very nice looking.

Dark hair.

The little girl looks

quite a little bit like her.

Her features are much the same.

- I'll just ask them.

- I see.

What kind of car is Mummy's?

It's Bernice's car.

Okay.

What kind of car is Bernice's?

Erm...

Green.

Ruthie?

Blue.

I could use some help.

Could you boys give me a push

onto some solid ground?

Sure.

Stick this under the wheel.

This, too.

- No, you don't want to waste that.

- Take it, it's okay.

No, we have some old clothes.

Sandy put your jacket

under the wheel on your side.

- No.

- C'mon Sandy.

I'm not moving

till you take this.

Use it!

Ah, yuck!

Thanks boys.

You've been a help.

Here. Take it.

I put the last of the white cake

on the table out there.

It won't last long.

Shall I fetch you a piece?

No, thanks, Etta.

The soup was enough.

How is she doing?

She's quiet enough.

Lucille and Ruthie.

No, George.

It's Ruthie and Lucille.

Have you shown the girls

the orchard yet?

Yes, we had a walk

in the orchard this morning

Have you shown them

your Indian knife?

Yes, I have.

Have you shown them

your Spanish coin?

No, it's in my other pants' pocket.

Grandmother

looked after us for seven years.

The paperboy was the only

person under 60 that we saw regularly.

It seemed as if,

all her life,

she was destined to be

braiding hair and whitening shoes.

And she worried for us.

Once, she told us she'd dreamed that

she'd seen a baby fall from an airplane.

And had tried to catch it

in her apron.

And once, in a dream,

she had tried to fish a baby

out of a well with a tea strainer.

She never talked about Mother,

or any of the family,

except Grandpa and his mountains.

It was only after she had died

that we were able to delve

amongst the treasures

in her room.

There, I found Mother

and her sister, Sylvie,

both banished

to the bottom drawer.

I had high hopes

of Grandma's treasures,

but most of the people in the photographs

remained strangers with no names.

I returned to the album often,

until the faces became familiar

and comfortable, like family.

It was comforting to find

Lucille and Mother and me there, too.

It seemed to suggest

that we belonged.

Although Grandma's death

made the front page of the Dispatch,

it was only because of her connection

with the spectacular derailment

that had widowed her

twenty years earlier.

It didn't even mention

the time or place of her funeral,

but every detail of

the Fingerbone wreck was retold.

My grandfather's death

had made him famous.

The disaster wasn't

strictly speaking spectacular

because nobody

saw it happen.

It took place midway through

a moonless night.

The train was about

a mile out on the bridge

when the engine

nosed over toward the lake

and then the rest

of the train followed it,

like a weasel

sliding off a rock.

The bridge was

built on submerged hills.

On either side, the lake

slid away to unknown depths.

Who could tell where

the train might've come to rest?

It might be sliding yet,

down and down.

All that was ever found was a suitcase,

a seat cushion and a lettuce.

All that day

the people of Fingerbone

were reluctant to leave

the hole in the ice.

It could only have been

out of politeness,

for there was really

nothing they could do

for the two hundred

souls on the train.

So, they built fires

and stood around

discussing how the train

might've settled in the lake.

Some imagined it

sinking like a stone,

while others saw it sliding

through the water like an eel.

By the evening, the ice

was already beginning to heal.

All in all, it was a memorable day

in the history of Fingerbone.

It was reported in newspapers

as far away as Denver and Saint Paul.

Relax your arms, Ruthie.

The stiffness goes

all the way down to your feet.

I hate those dogs!

When Grandmother died,

the house and her savings

became Lucille's and mine.

Our great-aunts, Lily and Nona,

came from Spokane to look after us.

They were almost destitute and

appreciated the savings in rent,

but they didn't

take to Fingerbone at all.

This is much too late

for little girls to come in.

The time went by so fast.

We're really sorry.

You see, we can't

go out looking for you.

We might get lost.

Or fall in the ice.

There are no street lights,

and they never sand the roads.

Dogs aren't on chains.

And the cold is so bitter.

We feel it even in the house.

We won't come back

after dark anymore.

You weren't on the ice,

were you?

No.

It's just a broken branch.

Oh, my!

It's just

a cable down. It happens.

Don't worry.

I'll fetch some candles.

Oh, dear!

If you dream

about somebody dead,

does it mean

they're haunting you?

I don't know.

It feels like it.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes