On The Other Side

Chapter Six: The Sad Discovery of Tenement Housing

I stand, hands on hips in the middle of our living room. It's the size of a broom closet, with barely any room for us to walk, and completely no room for Aggie to play. To make matters worse, I was just informed yesterday that we would be sharing our tiny tenement with another woman.

Mrs. Millicent Worthington is her name, that's all the information I was given. She'll be here any minute. Aggie stares out the small, dingy, painted-shut window, watching for this Mrs. Worthington. I'm not thrilled in the least being forced to share this small place with a complete stranger.

The landlord told me that since Will told him three people would be arriving, with only Aggie and I showing up, it was only logical that I be the one to take in Mrs. Worthington. This isn't logic, it's cramming more people into these disease infested housing units to get more money. The landlord, Mr. Craven, doesn't care about anyone but himself.

"She's here, she's here," Aggie screeches from the window. "Oh, her dress is pretty, like a fairy princess. Come see." She's bouncing in excitement, so excited she is to have someone else to talk to other than just me. "Her hair is grey, she looks old, like Craggy."

"Aggie, lower your voice, mo grá, we must be gracious and kind, no matter what."

We hear slow shuffling footsteps coming up the stairs. Aggie opens the door, holding it for Mrs. Worthington, who regally steps over the threshold. Aggie's eyes are wide as she takes in our new roommate. Mrs. Worthington is stunning in old age, her long silver hair pulled back into a chignon, diamonds sparkle at her earlobes. Her clothes are somewhat worn, but are made with fine fabrics and at one time, I'm sure, were very expensive. Her eyes are steel gray, with a toughness in them I can relate to.

"Hi, I'm Aggie." My little daughter curtsies, a small smile cracking Mrs. Worthington's lips. "I like your earrings, and your pretty silver hair, it looks like the color of a dime. When we go to Mr. Declan's store, he'll probably give you a peppermint stick, and if you don't like peppermint, he has so much different candies you can pick out." Aggie's hopping from foot to foot, reaching for Mrs. Worthington's hand. "Come, I'll show you where your bed is."

They don't walk more than a couple of steps, then stop in front of the only narrow bed in the room, tucked into the corner near the kitchen for warmth from the stove. Aggie and I will be sleeping on a pile of blankets on the floor, for the time being.

"I'm Claire Birrell, my daughter, Aggie, you've already met. I know it's small here and not really the best, but we keep it clean and I hope you'll feel welcome."

Mrs. Worthington looks lost, sad, heartbroken. All of these feelings radiate off of her. She all of a sudden looks a little faint. I quickly grab her arm, leading her to the only kitchen chair we have, where she eases herself carefully down.

"Sorry, dear, I'm feeling a little peaked." She pulls a crisp, white hankie trimmed in lace out of the sleeve of her dress, dabs her face with it. "It's been shock after shock for me these last couple of weeks." She closes her eyes, taking a deep sustaining breath. "I've lost my husband, our wealth and my home all in the same week."

Barely able to keep her eyes open, her skin pale and delicate looking, Mrs. Worthington tells us about her husband dying suddenly of a heart attack. Who, up until last week, was in perfect health. "It's this damned stock market crash. My husband loved money, loved wealth more than anything. He lived and breathed stocks."

I know nothing of this, the stocks, the market, the crash, is all so confusing to me, even after all these weeks in America.

"He invested all of our money, lost all of our money, my money. My family's money. It's gone, all of it." She sobs quietly then, her hankie bunched up, pressed against her eyes. "He was penniless when we met, but I loved him, it was a good match and we married," her eyes, flinty and angry, she spits out, "look where it got me." She looks around this small, dreary, rodent and insect infested room, tears pouring down her cheeks. "This place, how, how do I live like this?"