The pink-roofed house was small, off the main road that passed through Floaroma Town. Though the house had cream-colored wood siding, the corners were accented with brick and stone, made to look more charming and cozy like a cottage would. The door was the same muted pink that the roof was. A cobblestone path snaked up from the dirt one, moving through neatly kept lawn that separated itself from the wild grasses that covered the valley and the town. Hundreds of brightly colorful flowers lined the front where planting space had been dug out to surround the front of the house.
Mars, her hands stuffed in her pockets, walked up the path and to the front door. Her only hesitation was to look to the side of the house where a small shed had been built to match the house. The lone bike that usually resided inside was gone. Nevertheless, she continued to approach the front of the house, coming to the door where the sign hung on the front, 'The Johnson Residence'.
From a side pocket on the duffel, Mars reached in and removed a set of keys. She pulled out the appropriate key, slipping it into the locks and turning the key. A satisfying click came, and the sprung handle on the door popped up. Carefully, Mars opened the door.
The lights in the living room were turned out, with only the feeble overcast daylight coming through the windows. A dining table had been set to the left of her, close to the window, a stack of mail in one corner and a child's drawing in the other. Overhead, a simple dining light hung. Opposite it, against the dividing wall for the kitchen and the main hall, a simple, small end table had been set with photographs of a happy family, a husband, wife and child. A vase of flowers, recently replaced with fresh pink tulips, stood on the end table. Several more photographs had been hung on the wall, small and far between.
After shutting the door, Mars walked the house carefully. After giving a passing glance to the empty study in the far right, Mars headed to the open doorway of the kitchen, poking in and seeing the plain white, tiled walls. Nothing but rows of closed wooded cabinets and a stack of dirty dishes filled it, giving Mars some semblance of comfort that there was no one home.
Deep beneath the wall, the water pressure shot up and thumped, echoing in the porcelain chamber of the shower. The shower knob squealed as Mars turned it with nimble fingers, turning the pointed head of it until it reached the very end of the etched track in the silvery plate. Water hissed from the showerhead above, sprinkling water out for a moment before it came in a hot, clear stream.
As the rush of water echoed and rang off the walls, roaring in the small space, Mars shut the glass door she had just opened, shaking off the droplets of water that had sprinkled on her arm. She stepped away from the closed chamber, leaving it for a moment, clutching the white towel that she had wrapped around her naked body as she approached the toilet, sitting on the closed lid. Her pasty legs crossed, toes curling involuntarily as she threw her hands into her lap, hunched over, sitting forward, contemplating.
Hot steam pooled in the shower, swirling about Mars' figure in a rush among the running shower water. Running a hand over her shoulder, rubbing the wet shoulder where water pooled and glazed her skin, Mars stared ahead in thought, feeling the hot streams of water running over every inch of her skin. She felt the water pool over her feet as it collected on the shower floor.
A slop of hair was slung over the side of Mars' head, cleaned and shampooed, pulled out of her eyes as it had straightened in the hot environment. The smell of lavender and sandalwood radiated from her figure, the result of several minutes of scrubbing. Still, completely scrubbed clean, Mars hesitated, staring ahead and her thoughts lingering.
Just outside the bathroom, Mars heard a door close; the front door. Her eyes snapped open and she returned to reality. Her gaze paced around the white walls of the bathroom, looking just beyond the frosted glass and aluminum of the enclosed shower. She looked over the many different bottles that lined a small platform beside her, a used loofah and several wet rags that she herself had brought. Finally, her gaze landed on the metal plate of the shower knob. She hesitated, though she didn't show any signs of doubt, reaching for the knob and cranking it clockwise. The water shut off with a shrill squeal, water drizzling from the showerhead just above her. As she looked up to it, almost reverently, Mars felt her hair fall out of the slick she had pulled it back into, falling over her eyes.
"Hon, is that you? Back from work already?"
The voice of a middle-aged woman echoed out from the living room, sounding on the hallway that led up to the bathroom, just where Mars was. Though her footsteps were muffled by the carpet, she could hear a light shuffling, the sound of plastic bags rustling and crinkling when they were full of groceries. Bottles clinked and packages thumped on the dining table, before the shuffling continued and the screen door in front of the front door squealed.
Hearing silence from the main room, Mars undid the lock to the bathroom. The door swung slowly, just cracked open. She peered through, and through the slice of visibility that she had, she could see that the woman had set the groceries on the dining table, just as she had heard. She flinched when she heard the screen door squeal again and open wide, and the woman stepped back into the living room, entering Mars' view. All she could see was a slice of form-fitting black pants and a pink-patterned blouse on her. Narrowing her eyes, Mars could see the glint of a wedding ring on her finger; it was Mrs. Johnson.
Mars looked down behind her. In the steamy haze of the bathroom, she still felt like she wasn't fully dry, even if she was wearing clothes. She had put on the black undershirt of her uniform as well as the black leggings. The white breastplate of armor was just barely sticking out of the open black duffel, as well as her boots. Mars' hair was still drenched, her bangs hanging down in front of her eyes and putting a maroon haze in front of her vision. Though she could see where the black cord of the hair dryer snaked just over the counter, she didn't put much focus to it.
As she had lowered herself moments earlier, Mars paid close attention to the shadow she was casting on the wall behind her, and scanned her surroundings. Though a confidence in her plan shone through her, she still found herself hesitating when she went to reply.
"I'm in here, sweetie," Mars called out as plainly as she could.
From the sliver of the door that she had open, squatting down, Mars watched as Mrs. Johnson hesitated. She was hunched over a paper bag on the dining table, having been rooting through it moments earlier, but now she was turning to peer down the hallway. Mars yanked herself back, pulling herself into the bathroom and inadvertently slamming her body against the cabinets beneath the sink, making the rattle and clap, echoing off the walls in the bathroom.
"Did you get sick at work? You don't sound too good."
Mars was silently evaluating her options, staring at the wall wide-eyed. An icy chill crawled down her back. She reached up to her neck, rubbing it softly, feeling the goosebumps that had appeared.
The door to the bathroom had swung open, but all by Mars' own doing. Still, Mars took it as an opportunity, watching the dim lighting of the hallway, watching for shadows that could be cast on the wall. She heard no footsteps.
With a sense of daring, Mars slowly crept towards the outside of the doorway, peering her head around. It was the same scene she had seen moments earlier, Mrs. Johnson hunched over the table and rooting through a paper bag. She hadn't seemed to move, but Mars still got the icy chill she had moments ago, only ten times worse. She saw, just beneath the table, resting on one of the pushed-in chairs, Mars' white utility belt had been slung over the cushion. On the outside of the white belt, Mars saw the gray and yellow shell of the Ultra Ball she had been packing. As she stared at it, transfixed, her gaze was broken when Mrs. Johnson stepped in front of it, still not having looked towards the hallway where the bathroom door was open.
Mars almost immediately leapt back into the bathroom, her back to the sink counter once again. She felt her breath had picked up dramatically as she stared at the same wall she had moments before, the soaked hairs on her scalp seemingly standing on end.
Then, after collecting herself, Mars looked to the black duffel, contemplating it for several moments. Lifting the white breastplate that stuck out of it, Mars saw the glint of something golden and brassy tucked away inside; her harp.
The shimmering, reverberating notes of the harp echoed through the hall. Mars' fingers danced upon the near-invisible strings, swimming over them before lightly tapping and plucking at them. Hearing the notes turn from inaudible to bright, beautiful notes, Mars could hear the melody string together as she created it, her head bobbing along as she hummed the notes to herself and gained a rhythm, translating it to the harp with ease.
Though she had switched the fan in the bathroom off moments earlier, Mars now flicked the switch for the light, darkening the bathroom, pausing in playing the harp. She stepped out from the open bathroom door and into the hallway, lightly pressing her bare feet to the carpet as not to make a sound. Though she watched the careful steps she made, she turned her gaze down the hallway, her head craning as she moved, watching just beyond the hallway where she could see and where Mrs. Johnson was. She cradled the harp in her one arm, instead watching carefully.
Mrs. Johnson was poised, paused, reading a stack of mail in front of her with her head turned to the kitchen. Mars could just see that her mouth was hung open slightly, hesitating as if to say something.
"Are you playing guitar in there?"
Gliding her fingers over the harp strings, practicing on the air once, Mars let out a flush of notes, playing the blissful music in quick, melodic succession. Her notes rang out, and she filled the seemingly swimming notes that rang out with a few more beneath, increasing the surrealist feel of her music. She continued to play, lightly, drawing in the ear of her listener as she took a few careful steps forward.
Mrs. Johnson was frozen, seemingly listening to the music in the same position she was earlier. She still held her mail in front of her, her head turned towards the kitchen, her lips hanging just open enough to suggest she wanted to say something, but she remained totally still.
Mars slowed her notes, walking down the dimly lit hallway, still playing loud and crisp notes, but letting shimmering, near-inaudible notes fill out the background and give the music depth.
Mars, who was hunched over moments earlier, stood fully upright. She was just at the cusp of exiting the hallway and rounding the corner into the living room, her shoulder pressed to the corner as she continued to play.
"Enter trance," Mars spoke, lowering the harp strings for barely a second before she plucked loudly, bringing up the music to surround Mrs. Johnson and backup her voice.
Mrs. Johnson did nothing. It was as if she hadn't heard a thing.
Stepping around the corner, out into the open space of the living room, Mars approached closely to Mrs. Johnson, continuing to play her harp in melodic fashion. Even though Mars knew her footsteps were audible when she was this close, she paid no mind approaching close to her.
"Can you hear me, Marissa?" asked Mars. "Speak the answer."
"Yes."
"Very good."
"I'm going to speak some affirmations to you, and I want you to answer them with simple 'yes' answers. Answer if you agree. Even if you don't agree, I want you to answer them. Even if you don't agree, Marissa, I want you to try to believe in them. I want you to believe in them for me. Will you do that for me?"
"Yes."
"Very good. Let us begin."
"You are a very good wife to your husband."
"Yes."
"You have honored him, even in his absence. You have done well by him, taking up additional responsibilities when he was gone. You have worked the long hours necessary to close the gap between your husband's responsibilities and your own, even at the price of your own exhaustion. In this, you know he will be pleased when he returns; that has been your hope and desire since he has left."
"Yes."
"You have helped your child, Adeline, learn and grow because she is in that much more need when her father is gone. She can be a handful at times, but anything for her is a labor of love."
"Yes."
"You love Adeline dearly. You want to make sure that she knows she is loved and that when the family struggles as a whole in the absence of her father. You want her to know that things are not her fault and that bad things happen, but it's okay. You want her to know that you miss your husband as much as she misses her father."
"Yes."
"You hope she doesn't worry, but above all you hope that she knows that it isn't bad to be afraid, and that it's completely natural."
"Yes."
Mars paused, swallowing inaudibly. She had been pacing around the chair Mrs. Johnson stood in, keeping time with her harp as she strummed the taught strings in perfect rhythm, keeping time with her hypnotic words. For a moment, Mars thought she had heard Mrs. Johnson's latest response quaver in tone. As she crossed directly in front of Mrs. Johnson, where she stared directly ahead at the wall behind Mars, staring through her, Mars held her breath for a moment. Something about the way Mrs. Johnson responded seemed to have struck a chord in Mars, just as it had in Mrs. Johnson, a seeming result of the connection between the two, something Mars felt was one way.
"Though you miss your husband, and dearly hope that he returns home, you hope that he completes the job. You know he has a very hard project ahead of him and that you wouldn't expect anything else but the best, which is why he is overworking himself. That is why the long nights at the office are taking place. You know that is why, even if he is returning home incredibly late at night, you feel as if he is not there."
"Yes."
"Good, Marissa. You are very faithful," said Mars. "That is why you understand that, though your husband came home very early this morning, he could not spend a very long time. He was incredibly grateful for that, though he came in so early, he was allowed to come home to shower for just a moment before he could return. That is why he could not stay, and that is why he had to go."
After a long silence, Mars paused in her tracks. The plucking of her harp strings fell a beat, and the next string she hit was the wrong note, hit with an uncomfortable twang. Mars took a breath and picked up with her melody once again, playing more.
"Marissa, can you hear me?"
"Yes."
Mars took a careful breath, gathering her thoughts.
"Your husband came home just to shower and left abruptly to return to work. Do you believe he was doing what was right?"
Mrs. Johnson gave a shuddering breath. Her eyes, though still transfixed on the wall ahead, blinked more than usual, her head twisting uncomfortably as she sat. Where her hands rested on her lap they fidgeted uncomfortably. Her feet shuffled against the carpet uncomfortably.
Mars' head craned around as Mrs. Johnson silently fussed, seeing that something was off. Her brow narrowed, slowing the notes on her harp so that they faded into near inaudibility.
Kneeling before Mrs. Johnson, Mars craned her body forward, looking up to Mrs. Johnson, locking eyes with the transfixed eyes of her hypnotized subject. Mars played the notes quietly, but kept them at an incredibly low level.
"Do you want to say something to your husband? Just before he left?" asked Mars, her voice at a whisper.
"I… I don't understand…"
"What don't you understand, dear?"
"I… You promised this wouldn't happen when we moved here…"
Mars didn't anything. Her eyes turned down softly, a pallor falling over her features as she hesitated, taking a deep breath. Though her fingers danced over her harp strings, trying to keep the notes she played as quiet as she could, hovering in the generous spaces between strings, she started to pick up what she was playing, so that the soft, uplifting melody could be heard. Mars thought long and hard, playing what sounded like a toy box song.
"Don't you remember…?" Mrs. Johnson breathed. "Don't you remember when we lived in Oreburg City? When we lived deep beneath the earth, where the sun only shined through portholes in the ceiling? Where we got the light and warmth of the sun through heat lamps that hung in every street? When we picnicked in a cafeteria when there were natural gas leaks in the mines, once or twice a month? When we felt like we were under house arrest during those leaks? Remember when I was pregnant and I couldn't be near you because of the amount of coal on your body?"
The harp strings raised to shrill, cheerful notes as Mars played, trying in desperation to play to suit Mrs. Johnson's words as they began to break apart.
"What did you say? You know what it was like. You remember exactly when I told all of this to you, right before our parents came and we needed to help them get into the city. How could have you forgotten? I can't live like this, I said… I couldn't do it… You made me promise when we had Adeline that we'd live somewhere free, somewhere quiet… Somewhere where you didn't work ten to twelve hours in a mine… Somewhere you could get from early and come home… Somewhere we felt free… I didn't ever think you'd spend the night at your work again…"
Mars froze. She had stopped playing.
"I guess you can't break a bad habit," said Mrs. Johnson.
Mrs. Johnson closed her eyes. Her brow furrowed, a quiet groan escaping her lips, a hand reaching up to grasp for her brow and rub the pain away. When she opened her eyes, she stared directly into Mars' eyes, looking incredibly confused. Her mouth opened for a second, then hesitated.
In seconds, Mrs. Johnson's eyes rolled back into her skull. Her mouth flopped open, and her body fell back into the hard wooden brace of the chair, a loud thunk emanating from it. The chair creaked as her body fell limp, her arms flailing back. She stayed still, slowly slumping over to the side.
Mars stood up abruptly, grasping for Mrs. Johnson's shoulders as she slid over holding her steady and upright. Once she had balanced her body and rested it against the chair, Mars froze, completely unsure of what to do. Her arms prepped and ready to spring into action, Mars' eyes raced around the situation, thinking long and hard. Finally, she set the harp down behind her, then squatted down to her side. Her fingers curled around her chin, feeling the aging, worn skin as she lifted her head just slightly. She brought her ear to Mrs. Johnson's lips, hearing something exude, then brought her head down just beneath her chin. She confirmed breathing, involuntarily sighing at the comforting thought, before bringing her head out from under hers, looking up at her. Gingerly, she slid a finger just under the bulge of where her right eye was, spreading the eyelids just enough to see the unconscious eye.
Dropping down to the floor, Mars sat, throwing her arms forward in defeat. Her head lowered between her knees and her hands held her head, a choke of air being the only sound that came from her.
The door opened at the front of the home, muffled by walls but reaching the bedroom. As the door swung on its hinges, squealing quietly, it soon slammed back into the doorway, locking shut.
Mars' head rose quickly, looking up from where she was, hunched over beside the bed in the master bedroom. Looking down to where she had been fooling with the drawers beside her, the folders hanging loosely on the metal rails of the filing cabinet interior, Mars took the folder she had open on the floor, closing it up and slipping it back into position. She thrust the drawer back in, turning the key and hearing the lock catch, putting the key atop the short nightstand above the drawers, flipping down the concealing handle. Taking the pages she had stolen from the folder, Mars looked up to the bed, seeing where she had laid Mrs. Johnson flat, giving one last passing look.
As Mrs. Johnson snoozed silently, a cable snaked from an earbud inserted into her ears on either side, leading down to a small black device. A switch on the thin end where the earbud cable was plugged in indicated the device was on.
"Mom? Are you home?"
Hearing the muffled voice just down the hallway, Mars reached up and pulled the earbuds from Mrs. Johnson's ears, looping the cable over her fingers once and grabbing the small black device. She clicked the switch off, silently racing around the front of the bed to the other side, where she dropped down to a squat behind it.
The door to the bedroom opened, swinging in silently. A young girl, no more than ten, poked her head in; it was Adeline. Seeing the peaceful, sleeping form of her mother, she quickly stepped back, a single eye peeking through the door crack as she slowly, silently shut it.
Hearing the click of the doorknob, Mars poked her head just above the bed, taking pause at the sight of the door. Her fingers nimbly coiled the earbud cable around the device several times, tossing it into the open black duffel bag. She took the papers she had stolen and stuffed them in as well. Pulling the zipper on the hoodie up a few notches, Mars grabbed the boots of her uniform that she had stuffed under the bed, quickly slipping her silent, socked feet in and zipping them. Finally, she zipped up the duffel bag, taking the black strap and slinging it over her shoulder.
The latch to the window opened with a click. Mars launched the window up, getting only a light shuffling sound from the tracks on either side of the window. She threw the duffel bag out, getting a soft impact on the grass, throwing her legs over the ledge and slipping through, moments before she let the window drop down and lock.