Living In Secret

The Sunshine House

 We take taxi-van from the airport to our new house, whizzing along a freeway, and then veering through a series of curved streets.

"Is this your first time in San Francisco?'" the driver asks, glancing over his shoulder at us.

"No," Janey says, clutching her handbag on her lap

"Vacation?"

"Sort of..." I can tell she wishes he would stop being friendly.

The van creeps up a steep, winding hill and stops in front of a crooked yellow house." Here we are!" the driver says, hoping out to get to our luggage.

As soon as I got to the house, name it the Sunshine House. That's what it looks like to me, sunshine yellow with bushes of bright pink flowers by steps. I start feeling like this adventure again.

Janey takes a key out of her handbag and unlocks the front door. We carry our suitcases into the house, which smells still and musty, like no one's lived here for very long time. She opens the first door on the left and flicks on the light.

"This is the bedroom Claire and I will share," she says. It is a large room with one piece of furniture it, a gigantic, hand carved bed. "But you and I will sleep in here for now." She hangs her trench coat in the empty closet and kicks off her shoes.

I explore the house. My sneakers slap against the hardwood floor as I down the dusty hallway into the kitchen. The kitchen's overhead light is dim, filling the room with shadows, but I still notice the large spider webs over the stove.

Glass doors lead from the kitchen into the empty living room, where I peek through a smudged window into a sunny, wild grass yard out back. Upstairs, I find two smaller rooms and tiny second bathrooms with slanted ceilings, sort of like an attic. This house is smaller than Daddy's house, but much bigger than Mom's apartment.

 I go back down the staircase and finding Janey pulling sweats and a towel out of our

suitcase. "Fourteen hours on the road. I am so beat." She heads across the hall.

I unzip my suitcase and dig around for my nightie and my stuffed elephant, ellie, the one the mother gave me for Christmas. This elephant has slept with me in every place I've been to since then

"The bathroom is all yours," Janey says, coming back into the room. "Do you need help getting your wig off?"

"No, I can do it," I say, setting ellie off the bed.

Janey drapes her clothes at the end of the bed and tucks her money belt under the mattress. Then she unpacks an orange and red afghan from her suitcase. "My favourite granny left this to me," she says, unfolding it carefully. She bunches up a clean shirt for a pillow and lies down, spearing the afghan over herself with a contented sigh

pink tape sticks to my pinned-up hair. I work at it very slowly. Then I scrub the makeup off my face and reach for Janey's damp towel

"Hi, Tanya . . . hi, Heather . . . "I whisper to my reflection in the bathroom mirror, removing the bobby pins. My reflection makes a face at me. I don't like a Tanya or Heather

I click off the lights and climb under the afghan next to Janey. She is breathing heavily. Sunlight filters through the bedroom window. It's 5:39 in the afternoon on Long Island but only 2:39 here in San Francisco. I wonder if Daddy has figured out I'm gone yet and if he has, has he Mum to ask her? No, he'd want to wait and be sure. Mum is probably eating dinner now unless she nibs too nervous to eat, thinking about me and Janey moving into the new all ourselves.