Chapter 7

Brenda knew she needed to get Zoya's belongings out of the closets before her mother arrived. But she couldn't bring herself to throw them away just yet. She went to the back of the house and used the rod to pull down the hatch to the attic. She could put the stuff up there for now and dispose of it later.

As she ascended the wobbly ladder, Brenda wondered if Zoya had ever been up in the attic. Although it was still gloomy outside, light filtered through the small window. It was a fairly large space but the roof dropped down a little low. Brenda looked around the room. It was obvious Zoya, or someone, had used the attic quite often. It was clean and had a chair, desk and even a little cot, all decorated in pink and white. A girl's room. There was a small bookcase in the corner. Brenda examined the titles. Most were in Russian. This space had definitely been used by Zoya. There were a few Nancy Drew mysteries and a lot of teen and fashion magazines strewn on the cot. She pulled a notebook from the shelf. Brenda opened it and, there, scrawled across the inside cover was her name: Zoya Anna Petrovna. And underneath that: Zoya + Someone Special (soon please). Brenda's heart skipped a beat. She and flipped through the notebook but it was written in Russian. She gathered the books and magazines from the cot and stacked them neatly on the desk, with the notebook on top. Tears trickled down her cheeks, unheeded. She lay down on the bed and cried. Gut wrenching sobs. Zoya was just a child, trying to make it in the mean, grown up world.

TTTTTTTT

Brenda wasn't sure how long she had slept but when she awakened the room was completely dark. Although she wasn't fully refreshed, that was the best sleep she had had since moving into the house.

Brenda managed to climb back down the ladder to the floor without breaking her neck. There was no way she'd be able to get the clothes in the attic on her own. She turned on the lights and went into the kitchen. It was 9:00! She had slept the day away. Needless to say, she was starving but there was no food. The phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Brenda. It's me, Fritz. Did I wake you?"

"No. I'm in my beautiful kitchen looking for something to eat."

He chuckled. "I know it's late, work you know, but I wanted to bring over the money. I can pick up some takeout if you want."

"Oh, Fritzy that'd be great! Thanks."

After she hung up Brenda rushed to the bathroom to brush her teeth and comb her hair. She pulled up short in the bathroom doorway. She looked around before going in. Brenda knew she was being silly. A lot had happened lately, she hadn't been sleeping well, and it had all affected her imagination. Still, when she looked in the mirror while brushing her teeth it was with great caution.

When she saw the car lights flash on the window and heard Fritz slam the car door shut, Brenda hurried to open the front door. She got there just in time to see him trip on the same cobblestone where she had broken her heel. The bag of food flew out of his hand as he pitched forward and landed on his face!

Brenda ran to help him up. "Fritzy! Are you okay?" When he looked up at her she saw his bottom lip was busted.

"What just happened?" Fritz asked. He lay there a few seconds before attempting to get up.

"I broke my heel on that same stone today," she said, bending down to assist him. "Let me help you."

"No, I'm okay." He stood up and put his handkerchief to his mouth. "See if you can rescue the food."

Brenda grabbed the bag and peeked inside. The containers were still closed, thank goodness. She followed Fritz into the house.

After holding an ice pack to his lip for a while, Fritz sat down with Brenda to eat.

"At least you didn't break a tooth," she joked.

"At least."

She told him her mother was visiting tomorrow and about Zoya's clothes still being in the closets.

"Why are you holding on to her things?"

"I'm not holding on to them."

"You haven't gotten rid of them. You act as if you want to keep—."

"Oh, Fritz, don't be silly. Why would I want her clothes? I'm a professional woman with an important job and she was . . . well, you know."

Fritz smiled devilishly. "Some of her clothes might come in handy."

Brenda was appalled. "Fritz Howard, I do not intend on prancing around in her clothes for your amusement."

Fritz laughed which made his lip start hurting again.

"Good," Brenda said as she got up to retrieve the ice pack from the freezer. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Well, I'm not," he said, putting the ice pack to his mouth. "You'd look good in those types of clothes."

Brenda put her hands on her hips. "And how would you know what 'those types of clothes' look like?"

"I do have an imagination," he smiled then realized he should change the subject. "What if your mother finds her things?"

Brenda smiled sheepishly. "Well, there is an attic. The entrance is in the back of the house. I don't know if you've seen it."

"Problem. Solution. Put the stuff up there for now."

"Well, negotiating the ladder is a little precarious. I'd need some help."

Fritz looked at her matter-of-factly. "Did you have anyone in mind?"

Brenda gave him her sweetest look. "Well, since you're here . . . "

Fritz had Brenda load the first batch of clothes in the clothesbasket, which he managed to carry up the ladder using one hand to steady himself. It took five trips but they finally finished. Most of Zoya's clothes were laced teddies and jeans.

"I wonder if she went up there a lot," Fritz said on his last trip down the ladder.

"It was probably a refuge – when she wanted to get away from what her life was really like. You know, get back to basics."

"Yeah, way back. Pink and white! I mean, really. On the days she didn't have clients it looks like she reverted back to childhood."

"Don't make fun."

"I'm not making fun, Brenda. I'm just trying to make sense of it all." He tried to hug her but Brenda didn't feel like being hugged right now.

"I feel bad for her, Fritz."

"I know you do," he said, refusing to let her go. She stopped struggling and lay against his chest. He gently stroked her hair. Brenda relaxed her shoulders and closed her eyes, wondering if anyone had ever held Zoya this tenderly.