Chapter One
The often-hot humid air of central South Carolina had given way to winter winds. The surprise that day had been seeing the low dark clouds move in with the heavy threat of rain, only to bring with them the cold air, maybe snow. All day the change had moved thru the sky, coming from nowhere and heading nowhere. People accustomed to torrid heat and few clothes, were scurrying to find shelter. Many were groping thru old boxes in their attics; pulling out clothes from bye-gone years, that they remembered had warmed them and could be used again. Sparrows and starlings dove and swept the sky seeking shelter from what they too could not understand, but sensing must be avoided.
The lone young man in his early twenties, looked around the apartment from the bed on which he lay, his head propped by pillows. His new wife of a few short weeks and he, felt lucky they had found any place at all to call home. They had just moved to the area from the north, and though well used to cold weather, now found themselves unprepared for it as they had left with only a few hundred dollars to set up housekeeping. Most of the money had gone for gas for the car and to rent the small trailer that had contained all their combined worldly goods. Now, fifty dollars for the first month's rent and another fifty for a deposit had taken nearly all of the rest. It would still be at least another week before he got his first paycheck.
It hadn't taken them long to move their meager belongings into the two room upstairs flat. When he had returned form the rental company with the refund money from the trailer; he had thought to surprise her with that small treasure and taking her to shop for groceries. But as he stepped back into the apartment he saw the dismal place had changed. Though still stark and mostly barren, it almost seemed like a home. Their possessions had been carefully placed on freshly cleaned surfaces. The sparse furnishings that had come with the place had been rearranged comfortably. The stained bareness of the mattress on the bed had disappeared, and in its place were sheets, pillows and a comforter. On the mantel stood their only wedding present of any value; an early-american handcrafted wooden clock. Its surface was flat but all around the glass door, were scrolls and simple flower shapes cut into the wood. The clock didn't work, but that didn't matter. It had been the only thing his over-burdened parents, with seven other brothers and sisters and a small farm, could afford to give them and wish their son and new daughter blessings for many years.
From the bed he looked thru the large opening into the apartment's only other room. He could see the far wall lined with the now clean white counter and appliances. When the took the apartment they had found the kitchen to be filthy. The bathroom, also; which was really the walled-off end ot the hall at the top of the stairs, and shared the same film of dirt and disuse. Earlier, on returning from his trip uptown, he had found his wife almost inside the large porcelain tub; with its ball and claw iron feet, filling most of the space in the small room. She was up to her elbows in 'Bonami' cleanser and foam; muttering grunts, as the hard side of the tub pushed the air out of her lungs, and other occasional comments about people in general who could live in and leave with such a mess behind.
It was only after the sound of his wife's scream and the sight of her quickly leaving the bathroom that he decided to take over the job of cleaning it. That, and the fact that she refused to enter that room again without 'them' gone and him sitting in the room with her. Looking into the tub he watched as large adult cockroaches fled one after another from the open drain. They had been nestling in the dirty dry plumbing until the running water had flushed them out. Now trapped within the basin of the tub, they were scurrying around franticly trying to climb the sides and escape the burn of the cleanser. The young man had seen roaches before in his yourt, but never this many, never this big, nor had he been force to deal with them personally. Yet his manhood was now in question. His young wife, hiding under the bed covers still crying, was depending on his being able to deal with the problem. He could only think of one solution, and the only weapon he saw was the wooden broom handle. Carefully he began to dispatch them one at a time and the few that sought refuge down the drain were carried off as he finished the job of washing and rinsing out the tub. It seemed, without any discussion, the responsibility of cleaning the bathroom had now fallen to him. Especially since his wife insisted she would never go in there again unless he could personally assure her, each time, that the room was clean and clear. He spent the remainder of that afternoon on his hands and knees cleaning the rest of the bathroom while his thoroughly shaken new wife worked in the kitchen. Occasionally he could hear her opening drawers and cupboards with a bang and flourish, probably expecting a repeat of the visitors. The light meal she served that evening consisted of tears with a side order of soup with crackers. And though she couldn't stand to wait any longer, she insisted she would not return to the bathroom unless he sat guard on the tub edge to protect her, should that need literally arise again.
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