Ancestral Home

     Grandpa Erdos sat Freud upon his knee bucking the joint for a makeshift pony. Young Freud's golden hair jostled up and shimmied down. His face filled with magna hue and his lips bit to avoid a smile. Grandpa looked at the fire in hearth eating the last log. He would have to put on another soon.
     Flannery came into the room wiping her hands on her apron. It was an elaborate cloth pattern with sickles, butter churns and wooden spoons.
     "Would you like some oatmeal cookies papa?" She said this, facing none, but now looked at Freud lying back on the old man. Both faced the lingering flames.
     "I want peanut butter mamma"
     Flannery smiled. "With the fork marks intact?"
     Freud did not look at her. "Oh yes, please. You have to have the fork marks."
     Flannery went to the mantle to rearrange the heather thickets and parlor pieces. She often found herself rearranging it for no apparent reason. Somehow if the candlesticks were centered or if the framed photos were angled just so-- everything would seem right, all would be a presentation in bloom.
     "Can I have a story grampy?"
     Erdos starred silently ahead. The light glare darted as the smoke oscillated up the flue.
     "Yes of course. We will wait for your bother and sister, no? Shh.. now my little epsilon."
     The grandfather pushed Freud into his chest to prop the child to lie there. Flannery checked her work. The mantle was laid just right, the old rug was still centered and there was plenty of stacked wood as the day approached night.
     Flannery returned to the kitchen. Grandma Harriet, her own grandmother and upkeep, had her long bony finger in the peanut butter jar. She was dipping and tasting it. The noise of the swinging door startled and froze the old woman. She had saliva and peanuts dripping from the corner of her wrinkled lips.
     "Grandma what are you doing??"
     Harriet hunched in her long pajama throw. Her white hair remained where it had fell upon her shoulders.
     "I wanted this."
     Flannery took the jar away and wrung her fingers with a wash towel. She patted the old lady's lips and tried to make her take a seat from the kitchen table. Flannery looked at the lock they had put on the refrigerator. It was expected that the keepsake would work when the old lady was left alone. Yet now with a half full house she had left the icebox unguarded-- the peanut butter would have to be thrown out. Harriet chomped on the peanut spatter still in her mouth. Looking stoned with happiness, she wetted herself.
     Flannery was greasing a cookie pan when she noticed the small puddle. She sighed aloud, opened a window and then pulled the old lady to rise yet fearful that she was still aleak.
     "Louisa!" she called up the stairs as she held firm to the old grandma's arm to keep her standing. "LOUISA!"
     Louisa trotted down the stairs adjoining the kitchen. She held the hem of her skirt by her hands and poked her head around to see what was causing the clatter.
     "What did I do mother?"
     "Nothing, come here and hold grandma."
     Louisa shuddered momentarily. The old lady frightened her. Harriet was tranquil as if the situation was an episode at the spa among the masseuses. Louisa took her great grandmother's arm as her mother searched for the mop. The old lady turned to look at her directly and her face portrayed that she was still stoned and happy.
     "Umm..hi" greeted Louisa.
     Harriet smiled at this. Louisa's own dress was touching the woman and she was sure she’d be soiled by association.
     "Hurry mom!"
     Flannery had gone to the utility closet. She’d wrung out the mop with hot water and reminded herself to be easy on her back. As she half stooped over, her back seemed to suggest that it would not let her rise again. Flannery returned with the mop as her daughter was going into shock.
     "Ewwwwww."
     Louisa had let go of the old woman and was holding her hands in the air as if they were infested and detached. The old lady fell back into the seat and the vinyl emptied a small splash of urine. The old lady was glowing.
     "Do you want to mop or give grandma a bath?"
     Flannery was attempting to offer choice to the child. She did her best to be a good mother. But now Louisa looked at her with such revulsion at the idea of either option that somehow Flannery felt wounded with hurt. They paused.
     "Fine. Wash your hands and follow me."
     Flannery turned on the faucet noting that Louisa didn't want to touch anything. She rinsed her hands and let them drip, still holding the appendages out as if they were foreign.
     Flannery pulled at her aging grandmother's arm.
     "Come on grandma, come on"
     The old lady was bemused but stood and walked, still enchanted. "Peanut butter..mmm"
     "Yes grandma. Come on now."
     Flannery looked around the old lady's gown hoping that Louisa was pushing from the other side. Of course the girl was not. Instead she had stepped back a few feet as if walking in the footsteps alone would make her dirty.
     "Come on grandma…." Then, "we have some peanut butter in the bathroom."
     The old lady's eyes lit just a little and twinkled as she moved her legs like concrete galoshes. Flannery had given her wooly slippers for gift and now she realized that the slippers would track and slosh all the way to the shower. There was a trail of the few feet of progress in the kitchen. The hallway had wooden floors though. She was wrought at the thought of cleaning those too.
     "Grab that chair!"
     Louisa didn't want to touch anything. She stood aside in watch.
     "Grab it, I said!"
     Now she took a step forward and using just one finger pulled at the chair until it seemed ready to tip.
     "Ahh…move!"
     Flannery held her grandmother with her right hand, grabbed the chair with the left and let the woman recline back. Now she stooped to take off the slippers and throw them in the sink. Next she looked for a cleaning rag below the sink and patted the old legs. Louisa leaned back on the counter, cupping her hand, with the infected finger out like an open wound. Flannery shook her head in indifference.
     "What are you ladies doing?"
     Rhoad came in with a smile, kissed his grandma Harriet on the forehead and then nodded to his sister Louisa.
     "Rhoad can you help me?" Rhoad smiled and seemed more than happy to help.
     "What can I do?"
     He stood in appraisement of the situation, his sister holding a finger as if it were cut, a small puddle by the table, his mother on her knees, rinsing his grandmother who sat with a pleasant opium grin.
     "Grab a trash bag please."
     "A trash bag?"
     Flannery loved her children but they lacked the ability to do without question.
     "Just grab one please."
     Rhoad walked to the drawer and was about to question if she wanted large or extra large.
     "Are those clothes for work Rhoad?"
     Rhoad repeated the question to himself. She only did his laundry on Wednesdays.
     "No mother."
     "Ok then just slip the bag under grandma's feet. We are going to drag her to the bathtub."
     Rhoad noted that the gown was spotted and that he would probably need a change of clothes himself after the task. He approached with the bag as Flannery lifted Harriet's right then her left. When this was done Flannery edged the bag up to the mid thigh.
     "Would you like to hold the bag or drag?"
     Then, as if to answer the question on her own, Flannery pushed her onto Rhoad and told him to go. She still had cookies to bake.
     "Louisa can you finish the floor?"
     Louisa wasn't listening. She was waiting for the procession to go by as she eyed the faucet and its unique rinsing ability. Flannery gave up and ignored her.
     "I got her. Faster Rhoad… please.!"
     Flannery's back burned as she stooped to keep the bag up. The higher she could hold, the less she had to stoop to keep it up. Rhoad kept his hands under Harriet's arms and walked backward. She was frail and light, yet tall, nonetheless. They had almost left the kitchen at last when Freud came charging in.
     "Where's my cookies mama?"
     Flannery grunted despite herself. Rhoad ignored the boy and looked backwards to make the turn. Harriet passed gas quietly and continued to smile. Louisa was enraged with looking for a soap bar at the kitchen sink. She still held her finger out like it was full of pestilence. Freud stomped his foot in attention seeking.
     "O hush Freud." Louisa had no patience for her younger brother.
     Not to be left in wait, Freud took to the oven and peered in.
     "It's not even hot! How are you gonna make cookies with a cold oven?"
     It was too late for him to get an answer though. Rhoad and Flannery had made the corner and were now racing down the hall. Louisa had found the liquid soap. She let the hot water fall on her hands for five minutes unmindful that the limited heat would be needed in the bath down the hall. The slippers absorbed the suds and rinse in the basin. Louisa looked at them. They looked like two fluffy bugs.
     "Hey Freud come here."
     "No" Freud was in the fridge sizing up the milk and looking for some snacks.
     "You know, you should learn to be mindful when a lady talks."
     Freud turned to look at his sister. She was wearing an evening dress and her hair was permed and her face was painted.
     "Your not a lady."
     Louisa wanted to scold. Instead she smiled as warmly as she could. Her mother dressed Freud in knickers and all together arrested his development with babying him.
     "Maybe when you are older you'll understand."
     Freud closed the fridge and looked at her again. She wasn't even showing breast yet.
     "What do you mean?"
     Louisa puckered her lips and thought. The window breezed and the short curtain fluttered and winded. Louisa touched up her hair. She grabbed the chair that was left in the center of the room. She pushed it to the table.
     "Have a seat, I'll serve you tea."
     She let this thought linger. "You'll serve me?"
     Freud looked amused. He liked the thought of his sister serving him.
     "Sure. Just have a seat. I'll get mom's tea set and show you how gentlemen take their tea."
     Freud giggled at the word 'gentleman.' He climbed onto the outstretched seat and planted his rear on the table and his feet on the chair.
     "You'll have to sit proper like a gentleman." Louisa said this as neatly as she could. She eyed the orange vinyl where his foot rested, thinking that it would surely still be wet.
     "Proper? I can't even reach the table!"
     Louisa ignored him. She knew that coaxing often entailed a set-up, but the actual deed would best be left to the victim's own device. Louisa stooped for a saucepan in the cabinetry. The floor was glossy and reflective in the lingering daylight. She pulled up her dress to avoid contact with the floor. The only thing that kept her in the unsanitary kitchen was the chance to do harm to her brother. Freud watched her legs unclothe in squat. She took out the pan and put it in the sink. Louisa milked the slippers into the pan and went looking for a cinnamon stick. Freud had taken a seat. The table came up to his chin.
     "You want me to get the tea set?"
     He knew that they weren't supposed to play with the small porcelain set. He knew that he would have to climb the wooden buffet in the dining room to get to the wall shelf and fetch. He also knew that he could easily explain all this later as 'she told me so.' It was nice being the youngest.
     Louisa was busy with her cauldron in the sink. She turned to light the gas on the stovetop. It suddenly occurred to her that the family tea set was not to be toyed with. Louisa became disgusted at once with all that she was touching. Rhoad returned. Louisa saw him, saw that he was going to wash up in the sink. Rhoad was old enough to realize that something was strange about using a saucepan and cinnamon in the sink.
     "Hey, why's the stove on?"
     "We're making tea!"
     Freud yelled half his sentences and this bothered his sister to no end. Still, she held her wits about her.
     She had to think quickly.
     "Would you like to join us, sir?"
     Rhoad grinned at the address. "How can I help…ma' lady?"
     "Can you go and get the tea set in the dining room please."
     Rhoad stopped in exit. The tea set was an heirloom. More importantly, it was one of the many 'show not use' items his mother kept with outright pride.
"Umm..did you ask mom about this?"
"Well…."
     The door to the kitchen opened from the living room. Grandpa Erdos looked groggy and tired.
     "Will you be joining us for tea grandpa?"
     Louisa was already realizing that she was about to poison her entire family. She had an inborn stubbornness that prompted her to finish whatever she started-- at least if the notion was her own.
     "Tea?"
     Erdos checked his watch. "Oh my, I hadn't realized it was so late."
     Time had seemed to clog and slip since Erdos stopped teaching. Retirement was becoming one long wait for death. He would have lived alone and continued article publishing, had his daughter not be so insistent that he lacked the charms of family.
     "Is mom ok with using her tea set, did you ask?" Rhoad was the voice of reason.
     Louisa continued crumbling bits of cinnamon into the pot.
     "Well, did you?"
     "There's no cookies grandpa."
     Freud looked somber. Louisa realized that playing the childish parts of his age was Freud's greatest weapon.
     "No cookies!" Erdos cried guising shock as Rhoad chuckled.
     "Your mom promised me oatmeal… what are we to do?"
     Erdos grinned and strolled over to the fridge. The kitchen was running out of space, filling with people.
     "Mom still cleaning up?" Louisa said this to her brother Rhoad.
     He shrugged and looked bored. "I have reading to do, let me know when you get permission Lou."
     Louisa stopped crumbling cinnamon. She knew that the gag was up. Besides, she wanted fun with Freud, but not at the expense of the rest. Louisa turned the pot on its side and let the contents slide down the sink.
     'Hey gramps was gonna give us a story."
     Erdos did not respond. He was smelling a bar of cheese. "I did?"
     "Yep, you said that we had to wait for everyone."
     Erdos couldn't remember. His mind worked great for numbers still, yet the details of everyday seemed to get fuzzier and fuzzier.
     "You’re right, I did!" Then, "come on to the living room. Louisa can you warm some milk maybe? I suppose your mother will make cookies later. … where is she?"
     Rhoad said that she was cleaning grandma Harriet. Erdos scowled. He didn't like the old woman. He didn't like adults for that matter. With Flannery missing a father he thought the ratio of children to adults was hopeful. He hadn't factored in the old lady though.
     "What's everyone doing?"
     Flannery came in drying off her hands. The group stood in awe at what she had probably done.
     "Well…" Freud was the first to speak; he liked being spokesman.
     "Louisa wanted to use your good tea set, Rhoad was gonna do it but grandpa wants warm milk and he is gonna tell us a story if you ever make cookies!"
     Freud heaved for breathe.
     Rhoad smiled.
     Louisa blushed.
     Erdos scowled.
     Flannery took mental note.
     "Let's see, we will need more peanut butter."
     "We're almost out of milk mom."
     Louisa had wanted to cover the special tea with milk but had been the first to realize that there was not enough to go round.
     Erdos coughed. "I am out of medicine."
     Flannery smiled. "We'll need a run to the store, then we can make things right."
"Rhoad..?"
     "Hmm?" he was playing with the wood on the door jam. Flannery smiled at him. He was a good son.
     "Will you go to the store for us, Rhoad?"
     Rhoad smiled.
     "Grandma needs more Epson salts. Here, let me grab a list."
     Flannery went to her junk drawer and pulled out a tablet and pen. Louisa piped in that she needed chocolates to go with her lunch next week. Freud needed everything. Grandpa Erdos said that he was fine. Flannery wrote down the word "medicine" anyway.
     "Oh yeah tea. ….we need tea." Louisa chimed in.
     Everyone but Flannery stared at her.
     "I just used the last of it." She said.
     Flannery shifted her brow. They had been out of tea for a week, she didn't understand. No matter. She finished the long list and gave it to Rhoad. Then she dug into her apron for money and keys to the family car. The good son looked at the keys and the money. He took these with his head bowed down.
     "What's wrong honey?" his mother asked.
     Rhoad did not respond directly, but merely said that he would read later. Freud got up from the seat. His knickers were wet. Flannery saw this and fussed. Louisa said that she had studies. Grandpa Erdos left the kitchen and went back to add a log before a long nap. Grandma Harriet yelled for peanut butter from the bathroom down the hall. Flannery looked at the unmopped floor and sighed.
     "Hurry back Rhoad."
     Rhoad nodded. He went to his room quickly. Grabbed his literature text and hunkered down the stairs to the side door. Rhoad looked back at the house with its' high hung roof line. It was his ancestral home. He put the keys in the ignition and started up the old Chrysler. Everything in his family seemed old and done. The good son opened the window. As he put the car in gear and pedaled down, he let the shopping list float out -- a paper to glide and whimper with the wind. Rhoad throttled down, leaving the house completely and forever.

Nco
Philipe Nicolini. Enjoys writing about his rural upbringing in California's San Joaquin Valley. Once sold into educational slavery in Tokyo, now rinsing his days in Seattle; Nco works by night. In the night there is calm.