Chapter Thirteen

Miranda begins her first day as a cleaning woman, and finds a mysterious secret inside the house.

The dreadful sound of an alarm clock issues from the table next to my bed, shaking me.

Throwing an arm over my shoulder, I pound on the button, yawning.

With one hand, I rub the sleep out of my eyes as I sit up and toss my legs over the side of the bed. As I gaze blankly out at my bedroom, I try to remember what on earth I’m doing up so early.

Oh, right. I have to start my new job today. I groan, standing up and pulling my new uniform on. Floyd did have a point. What was I thinking starting a new job so very soon?

It isn’t like I’m running seriously low on money already, and I’m perfectly capable of finding things to do around the house to keep me busy…

But that’s probably just the sleep talking, I decide, and I’ll most definitely perk up after a cup of coffee.

My new uniform fits pretty perfectly, but it is pink- a color which I’ve never felt looked particularly good on me.

Stumbling into the bathroom, I decide that it would be pointless to mess with hair and makeup just to go scrub toilets and wash underwear all day, so I simply tie my hair back with a rubber band and head for the kitchen to enjoy a nice cup of coffee before I have to be off.

Because the stupor of sleep is still so heavily upon me, I just reheat yesterday’s coffee in a cup in the microwave, instead of making a fresh pot.

As I stand there, zoning out in front of the microwave, my phone rings, startling me. I fish it out of my apron pocket and flip it open.

“Hello?” I say, trying not to sound as tired as I am.

“Hi, Miranda? This is Courtney from Willow. I was just calling to make sure you’re still planning to come in today.”

“Yes, of course,” I say as the microwave beeps with my coffee. “I’m just getting ready now, and I’ll be out the door in the next 10-15 minutes.”

“Alright, great!” says Courtney. “Sorry to disturb you. We’ll see you soon!”

I smile and nod to myself as we say our goodbyes and hang up.

The coffee isn’t really as good and fulfilling as a fresh cup would have been, but at least it perks me up a little, and before too long, I’m feeling awake enough to trust myself at the wheel of my car.

But the trip to work is boring, and despite my burst of caffeine induced energy, I catch myself almost nodding off a couple of times. Pulling up outside the building, I try my best to compose myself and not appear as though I’m dragging, before stepping inside.

The receptionist glances up at me and then gestures toward the same door I went through yesterday.

Nodding at her, I stride through the door and back to the office where I had my interview yesterday. Courtney looks up as I walk in.

“Good morning!” she greets. “You sure look tired.”

“Is it that obvious?” I sigh.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she says. “I probably look the same way every morning when I first get here. I am not a morning person by nature. Not at all. Anyway, the uniform looks great! Pink is very becoming on you, I think.”

I can’t seem to stifle my grin.

“You really think so?” I ask. “I always thought pink looked so trashy on me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” says Courtney. “You look fine! Anyway, you’ll be working with Samantha today. I’ve already informed her of your temporary partnership, so she knows you’ll be coming. She will show you how things are done and teach you everything you need to know, so I specifically assigned you both one of the messiest known clients, since there will be two of you. I hope you don’t mind. Here is the address,” she says, handing me a slip of paper with an address on it, as well as driving directions. “If you have any trouble finding the place, you can just give me a call. And if you have any trouble with anything while you’re there, you may also call. Try to limit yourself to one break per 2 hours.”

Courtney bites her lip, as though thinking.

“I think that’s just about everything,” she says, “so you can go ahead and get over there now. Good luck, Miranda. And thank you for coming in so soon! I really appreciate it!”

We shake hands and I leave the building, jumping back into my car and turning on the radio, in hopes that it will keep me awake long enough to drive over there.

I take a good look at the directions and realize that it’s really not too far from here at all, and I’ve probably even been up around there a few times.

Starting up my car, I back out of the parking lot and head in the general direction of the house in question.

As I drive up the road, the radio plays an awesome old tune from my teenage years, which perks me up significantly as I jam to it.

There’s a strange thing that I have when I listen to a song that I haven’t heard in a long time. The sound of the song also brings back other memories; other senses from the same time period where I used to hear it. So as the radio belts out this old melody, I’m overcome with a feeling of excitement for starting a new school year, and the ghostly flavor of peach soda lingers on the tip of my tongue.

High school was great and I often find myself missing those years of my life. So much has changed since then and although change isn’t necessarily bad, I do recall having the time of my life back in those days.

I turn a corner and head up Dawson Street, toward Lake Boise. How pleasant that I get to pass one of my favorite lakes on the way to my first day of work.

As I drive up the street, however, I begin to notice that something isn’t right. I can’t seem to see the shimmer of water. Trying not to get into an accident, I crane my neck for a better look.

Something is definitely wrong here, and as the trees thin out and the whole scene comes into view, I realize what it is that is so wrong.

There is no lake here. Instead of a lake, there is what can only be described as a desert.

Someone honks and I swerve, barely avoiding a head-on collision. As my heart pounds, I look for the sign announcing the lakeside park and pull into the parking lot, thoroughly confused and a bit nervous.

As I enter the lot, I can see that there are a few shallow puddles, and hundreds of tires, but little else. 

I step out of my car and head toward the one foot drop-off that was once the lake’s shore. The ground where the water used to be is all cracked and dried up like a desert floor, and the warm breeze reeks of dead fish. I can’t recall the last time I ever visited Lake Boise, but I do know that it didn’t look like this before.

The empty lake is now nothing more than a graveyard for poor fish and old tires.

As I stare out over this dreadful wasteland that was once such a beautiful and special place in my life, a part of me feels like it is dying. What happened here? Surely it didn’t just dry up… But if not, then what?

My stomach churns as I consider the possibility that they decided to drain it for the sake of building some useless housing complex or shopping mall.

My watch beeps 10:00 and I realize that I’m wasting time.

I take one last broken-hearted look out across the former lake before sulking back to my car and switching it on. The song on the radio is far too happy, and so I turn it off and drive the rest of the way in silence, thinking about what must have happened to poor Lake Boise.

By the time I pull up outside of what appears to be the correct house, it’s already a quarter after ten, and I frantically hope that I won’t get in trouble for taking such a long time to get there.

I snatch up my things as quickly as possible and then rush up to the front door where I knock and wait.

After several seconds, the door swings open and a young woman with dusty brown hair appears.

“You Miranda?” she asks, wiping sweat from her forehead.

“Yes, I am…” Before I have time to ask whether she is Samantha, or the owner of the house, she says “Good,” and grabs me by the wrist, leading me into the house. “We’ve got our work cut out for us,” she says. “This woman never cleans her own house and she’ll only hire us once every couple of months, after it’s gotten ridiculous.”

“Won’t she hear you?” I whisper as Samantha drags me into a living room the size of my whole house.

“Nope. She’s never here when we clean. If my house was this disgusting, I’d be embarrassed to be seen inside it, too. But she usually comes back within the last half hour of working to tip. And believe me, you’re gonna wanna stick around for that.”

Samantha hands me a duster.

“She doesn’t even clean the dust off s**t,” she says. “I don’t know how she can ever breathe in here. I have really bad allergies, so would you mind dusting all the rooms upstairs for me while I finish up in here? Then I’ll take you into the kitchen and we can start from scratch. The staircase is right down the hall.”

She points with her forehead and then goes back to steaming the carpet.

“Nice to meet you, too,” I whisper as I shuffle down the hallway to find the staircase.

All along the wall on the way up are old photos in dusty black frames. I run the feather duster across each of them as I make my way up the stairs.

The pictures are all in black and white, and I can’t tell if it’s because they are old, or if the owner just prefers black and white photographs. Either way, they are all strikingly beautiful in their way.

The lowest picture is of a man and a woman, apparently on their wedding day. They both look very happy. Further up is a photo of the same woman holding a single rose. Her eyes are closed. I dust off a couple more photos of some kittens and a little girl on a tricycle. The last photo on the stairwell wall is of a little blonde boy with freckles. His two front teeth are missing in the middle of his huge dorky smile.

I freeze when I see this picture. Even with teeth missing, I’d recognize that silly smile anywhere.

Leaning in close to make sure I’m not seeing things, I slowly dust off the picture frame of a very young and partially toothless Floyd.