Another chapter. I don't really have anything to say to introduce it, so here it is!
I pulled up to the address on the Post-It note and double checked. Was this the right house? Somehow, I'd figured Alex for poor what with his wearing almost the exact same thing every day, always looking sort of disheveled, and driving the Beast. This house was, well, wow. I'm not even sure how to describe it. It was brick, for starters. Dark red brick, but not all a uniform shade. The house was brick all the way to the roof, unlike ours which is brick on bottom and siding on top. It had this grand entrance with a huge two-story tall arch of matching brick, and I noticed shining through the second-story window a huge chandelier that to me seemed worthy of the setting of the novel that had gotten me into this whole mess in the first place. No, it wasn't the right house, I thought. I looked at the address again. There really was no mistaking it, though. It's not that big a town. We don't have a lot of streets with similar names or anything. I turned off my car and got out slowly. I considered getting back in and driving off. The Beast wasn't parked outside, so either it wasn't the right house or else Alex wasn't home.
I put the Post-It note in my pocket, slipped my backpack onto my shoulders, and walked up the front walk anyway. They'd tell me it wasn't the right house, and I'd go home telling myself that I'd tried and it wasn't my fault. Or else someone would answer the door and say that Alex wasn't home. They'd take his nasty windbreaker from me, and I wouldn't have to say anything to him. Problem solved. But my stomach did flipflops, reminding me that I could say no big deal all I wanted, I wasn't buying it.
I pushed the button for the doorbell. That Westminster thing rang out with deeper tones and more vibration than my mother's living room clock has ever been able to muster. While I listened to the chimes I inspected the front door. It was heavy, dark wood with a window with leaded glass that threw prisms at me when I tried to peek through.
A woman wearing nicely fitted white slacks and a clingy but stylish pink blouse came toward the door; I backed away from my peeking place and tried to stand normally without looking too casual. I smoothed my hair down, then fluffed it back up again.
The woman opened the door. She had shoulder-length blond hair and was overly made up without looking ridiculous. In fact, she looked rather like she'd just stepped off a runway somewhere. I noticed how her earrings and necklace matched. I glanced down rather than meet her eyes and noted that her ring matched too and her nails were not only perfectly manicured but the color exactly matched her blouse. Wow.
"Sorry" she said. "Maid's day off. Can I help you?"
I was absolutely certain I had the wrong house by this point, but there wasn't much else I could say. I was a little old to be selling Girl Scout Cookies, and besides I didn't have an order form or anything. Maybe a school fundraiser? Cheerleading? Drama? But the truth fell out of my mouth easily before I could stop it.
"I um… I was looking for this guy Alex. From my school. He uh… we're friends and um…" boy, that sounded weird out loud. I shifted my backpack off my shoulder and half-unzipped it. "He left his jacket," I mumbled. I rummaged in my backpack trying to get hold of an end of it. I'd stuffed it so deeply to avoid anyone's seeing it that it was not exactly easy to pull back out.
Blond-lady caught sight of the slick green surface without my having to withdraw it, though. I stopped trying to pull it out; the look on her face weirded me out for a second. First she looked sort of angry or something, then she put on a fake smile for a few seconds and scrutinized my face. Then she lit up. "Come in!" she said, opening the door wide and backing out of the way. "I'll just go get him," and she turned from the door and yelled "Alex!" before she'd even taken a step away.
The foyer opened into a sunken living room on the right side and a wide hallway straight ahead. A stairway just to the left went up a few steps then turned and went up, up, up some more. Blond-lady trotted up the steps, which I noticed were darkly stained wood with a carpet runner down the center complete with those brass step-things that we don't have at our place. Matter of fact, the whole place was full of things we don't have at our place. The chandelier I saw from the outside hung over the stair landing, and it was even more impressive from directly below. The two steps into the sunken living room were the same dark-stained, highly-polished wood. A huge oriental rug marked a sitting area, and I could tell without stepping on it that it was overly thick and lush. The far wall of the living room was covered with old-looking books all the way to the height of the ceiling, and there was a ladder so you could reach the top shelf. A wooden spiral staircase went up to a balcony where the library continued. On the ground floor between the books and the sitting area was a grand piano with the lid up.
More immediately, directly in front of me was a large glass cabinet with recessed lighting inside lighting crystal vases and old photographs.
Blond-lady exchanged words with Alex from the top of the stairs. I couldn't make out everything he said clearly, but he didn't seem pleased. I did pretty distinctly hear him call her "Mom" and my perception went all haywire. I mean, sure, it was obvious that's who she was, but it just didn't fit. I considered that maybe that office girl had given me the address for the wrong Alex, that I'd get to the top of the stairs and there'd be some other guy named Alex, some prince-Charming type who would be insulted that I'd confused him with windbreaker boy.
"Sorry." Blond-mom returned, an expression of mild irritation making a little wrinkled mark across her otherwise perfect forehead. She motioned that I should go up the stairs. I hesitated. She turned to lead the way and took off without waiting for me to respond. I noticed that her shoes matched her blouse, which meant they also matched her nails. I wondered where she shops and whether she redoes her nails every day to match her outfit. She was already several steps ahead of me and talking to me as she went. "I am so sorry," she said, expecting that I had followed.
"Ummm…" I slipped off my shoes rather than traipse up the beautiful carpet in them. Then, not wanting to mar the perfect entranceway, I picked them up and held them in my right hand. I trotted up the steps quickly so I was right behind her.
"This is not how we treat guests generally. I don't know what's gotten into him today!"
I thought I had a pretty good idea what had gotten into Alex, but I didn't say anything.
"Here we are" she said. His door was closed. I figured that meant keep out, but I wasn't sure how to say, you know, nevermind, I'm sorry, here just give him the jacket, I've got to go anyway and all that. I mean, I had, like, a second to say it, and I couldn't get my mouth to work fast enough, and then 'Mom' had the door open and was ushering me inside.
It was like looking into another world.
Wait. Let me say that another way.
It was like walking into Gaston Leroux's book.
Okay, I take that back.
There was no organ, no coffin, none of the overly creepy stuff. But the mood of the place was definitely the same. The walls were painted murals of stone masonry with archways and candelabras and heavy red curtains painted to match the actual heavy red curtains that adorned the actual windows of the room. He had some red canopy like thing hanging over the bed, and there was—no kidding!—a chandelier in there, too.
I was so amazed I just stood there open-mouthed and staring.
I didn't even notice Alex until it registered that he'd said "Damn it, Mom! I told you—!"
She squeezed my shoulder a little too hard and ran her hand back and forth across my back. "You two have fun," she said softly. Then she was gone. The door closed behind her soundlessly.
Alex muttered the f-word under his breath, folded his arms back and forth across himself and hunched forward with his hair drooping all around him so that he seemed about half his usual size.
"Sorry." It was for a time, the only word that came to me. Then I came up with, "Hey, if now's a bad time, I could leave."
He let out a frustrated noise like a cross between a yelp and a groan and spun away from me on his stool. "Too late now," he said crossly.
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