Four in the Attic, One in the Kitchen

Seasons Pass

The weeks passed, they melted into months. When September had rolled around, Grandmother enrolled me in the local girl's school that Momma had been in, of course under my false name. I boarded on the weekdays, and came home every weekend. On breaks, however, I resumed my kitchen duties, and made a menial salary of three dollars a week. Momma started school too -- She was learning to be a secretary, or so she said. Many a night I had watched her pour over notes, trying to type and do shorthand, but to no avail. I couldn't rely on her for my own work anyway. She had never been good with figures, so I had to rely on the servants that did. It was one thing I was thankful for, that Grandmother insisted on me having a good education and keeping my marks up. In my heart, I felt Momma wanted me to become a little housewife like her, but I genuinely enjoyed studying. My teachers sent monthly reports to our families, and Grandmother gave her rare praise when all my feedback was positive.

We had been with our grandparents since June, and it was now November. I hated how I couldn't visit my siblings, and I hadn't seen hide nor hair of them in five months. It took a little persuasion, but by August I had a system going with Grandmother. Every Sunday, I was allowed to write them a letter, and on Mondays she arose early to give me their responses. It had to be very secretive, and their letters were to be burned upon reading them. That was the part I hated most. They weren't allowed to exist. They were like ghosts. Every day I had to put on a brave face and pretend that my entire life was thrown away like dust in the wind.

I received even worse news a few weeks before. In July, Momma pulled me aside and explained that she couldn't inherit anything until Grandfather died. Even worse is what she told me after. Because Cathy, Chris, Carrie, and Cory were hidden, they couldn't ever meet Grandfather, but they would be safely protected under his money. Myself, as I had met the servants and Grandfather himself, I would have to wait until I was eighteen, even if Grandfather died before then. My blood chilled at the concept. My siblings could be free, living with millions in their grasp, free to call Momma by her name, but I was stuck for the next three years. I wanted to argue, but there was no way out of it.

I cheered myself up with the letters. I updated my siblings on things I did, and even sent Chris copies of my school notes. If he wasn't going to school, I'd at least help him learn a few things. He wouldn't stop gushing about their attic. Even if their room was cramped, the room above was a haven; spacious, filled with antiques, and even had a schoolroom where they could start educating Carrie and Cory. After he said that, I began to make sure I sent extra notes on things to teach them, from what I could remember being taught. Cathy remarked that Cory especially missed me, and it broke my heart. There was nothing I could do about it, but I made sure to put extra love into the bit in my letter directed at him. I couldn't help but miss him too; he really was a sweetheart for a toddler, and memories of taking him on rides on my shoulders, showing him off to my friends brought tears to my eyes. How I wished I could kiss his rosy cheeks!

If only they really were rosy.

In a more worrisome letter, Chris fleetingly mentioned that the twins had begun to look sickly, paler. They were always confined to the tiny room where opening windows was forbidden, and their skin showed. The two had always loved playing in the yard, running around half-naked until their skin turned a soft brown, freckles popping up like weeds on their noses. I doubted they had any after so long without sun.

Thanksgiving was soon upon us. I remembered the years before. We always had a turkey, plenty of mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy, and mixed vegetables. It wasn't ever a huge meal, but it was more than we usually had. Momma was the one to insist on a turkey. We would've been fine with chicken, but she got the biggest one the market had in stock. Anything we could have, she doubled it. Now that we were in our current situation, I was no longer surprised at our debt. Her youth among riches gave her the taste for the finer things in life. She and Daddy were originally going to only have a small home, she wanted bigger. They were going to have just me, but she wanted more children. She wanted a big engagement and wedding ring. Daddy could've always said no, but his heart was gold, and melted for her. He would live in rags if it meant she had a crown of jewels. But then he died, and the weight of her choices fell onto her shoulders in an avalanche.

Living among wealth once more, she seemed happier. I noted that the bags under her eyes that she tried so hard to conceal faded. Her eyes brightened. I swore that the fine worry lines that she accumulated disappeared. I also noticed the rings, the necklaces, the earrings. The nights she went out and stayed until dawn. The letters she got written in looped ink and the phone calls that lasted hours. My heart was heavy, and I bitterly realized that she moved on from her lost love. Daddy may have been gone, the supposed love of her life, but she brushed it aside and was letting suitors into her heart. I, of course, could say nothing. Grandmother would accuse me of trying to let my secret loose, or sympathizing with her relationship with her half-uncle. In fact, I was certain Grandmother wanted me to hate Momma. I couldn't hate her though. She loved me, raised me, and now treated me with polite, cousinly affection. It felt strange, though welcome.

December came like the winter winds, chilling and abrupt. My midterm exams were approaching fast, much of my time was dedicated to studying for them. During the week it was a bit harder. I roomed with five other girls, who, even when they tried their hardest, never came up to par with my dedication. I would join them, of course, during beauty rituals -- having one's hair braided is one of the best feelings in the world -- but it's difficult to read from a textbook when your roommates play Elvis and Fats Domino until your eyeballs vibrate in your skull.

I survived however. Our week of midterms was the ninth to the thirteenth, and then we had three weeks off for holidays. Our results would be posted when we returned home, and I knew everyone would be anxious to see them. I felt I did well in English and History, but my heart sank when I looked through my Mathematics and Chemistry finals. I doubted I'd do exceedingly well. Even if I was decent with numbers, the application of them was much harder. Latin was completely out. The language was dead, much like my will to pursue the dozens of translations and ways to say someone was killed.

It was when I returned that I was told of the Christmas ball. I was actually excited. I didn't have to cook for it, I was going to be in the fray, and I was even going to have a gown created just for me! It may have been vain, but I had always wanted something fitted to me, picked out to be perfect. I would be beautiful, just like my mother. However, I immediately thought of Cathy. She would be more than a little jealous. In fact, she'd likely hate me for a time if she learned that I got to go to a fancy party, in a fancy dress, and probably be flirted with. That was precisely the reason that I didn't mention that I was going in the letter. I lied outright, saying that Grandmother forbade me to go. My siblings would never know, so they couldn't be hurt. I did hate lying to them, but it felt necessary for everyone's sake.

Momma took me to the boutique the weekend I returned. There were rows and rows of dresses to choose from, and it took ages to pick one. Momma had her own sense of what I should wear -- low cut, knee length, in bright flashy colors -- the seamstresses tried convincing her of something that would be more flattering to my body type, and something a little more appropriate for a fifteen year old. God knows what Grandmother would think if I wore a dress with too much cleavage. Once we were set on style, it was hours of going through colors and small variations. I was thrust into and torn out of dresses, shoes were experimentally paired, and it was dark by the time we were set on something and I was fitted. Grandmother was less than impressed with our timing, and no amount of flattery could smooth her lack of satisfaction. She was, however, pleased with the choice of dress we had finally decided on, from the magazine we snagged from the shop. That was one step down. Now all we had to do was wait.

My heart soared as the days ticked by. I had always loved Christmas. With my saved money, I discreetly purchased my siblings presents. For Chris I picked out a book on physics, Cathy got a record of ballet music (though I didn't know if she could use it or not), Cathy got a large set of crayons, and Cory a small train set. I wrapped everything neatly, and placed it in my closet for safekeeping. Somehow I would get them upstairs. I was going to spend the holidays with my siblings if it was the last thing I did.

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