One Month, One Lifetime

6: I'm Not Here to Rob You Blind

The taxi dropped me off at Mabel's house, which was on the edge of what the driver called the Avenues. At first the houses were large and a strange mixture of victorian and modern, but the further we drove the smaller they got until he stopped in front of a turn of the century home with its front porch light on. I handed over my cash before getting booted to the curb with my bag.

The front walk was freshly shoveled and salted even though there wasn't much snow on the pavement. Most of the snow had been piled on the south side of the house, where the sun hadn't reached to melt it away. A strand of Christmas lights still trimmed the gutter, but they weren't on. A giant maple tree that looked absolutely dead dominated the yard. It's roots had grown so large that they pushed up on the cement sidewalk on the road and made it uneven and cracked.

If the light hadn't been on, I would have continued walking.

But the light was on so I approached the door and knocked.

Inside I heard a shuffle as someone muted the TV. There was the click of a deadbolt turning and the interior door opened, leaving the screen door that separated us in place.

The person who stood in front of me did not look like a Mabel Schuster. He was tall enough and more lean than muscular. His blond hair was clipped short on the sides and only a little longer on top. The haircut and his lack of facial hair gave major baby face syndrome. The only thing was that I was expecting an elderly woman, going off of the name Mabel. Not a baby faced, blond dude.

He glared at my hair, which probably looked mysteriously bright in the porch light. "Indi Kline?" His voice didn't match his face. It was low and sort of rumbling, like thunder but significantly less cool.

"Mabel?"

There was another awkward moment of scrutiny on his end and panic that I was about to be kidnapped on my end, but eventually he called out, "Grandma! Your guest is here!"

I heard a shuffle from the kitchen and an old lady that looked like a Mabel appeared next to him. Her hair was long and pure white, much like mine had been after the bleach and before the dye. Her face was impossible wrinkled, like Aunt Minnie's would have been without the face lifts. She wore a cozy cardigan in a light shade of blush. It was something I would have picked out in a department store for my winter wardrobe.

"Well let her in then before she catches a cold and I have to warm up some more soup," she scolded the kid with a playful swat on the arm. Even though she had asked him to, Mabel stepped forward and opened the screen door for me. "Come on in. You can take off your shoes over there. Dear, why are you wearing those little things in the winter? You better put some socks on or you toes will freeze right off. I set you up the couch bed over here in the living room and there's some heavy wool blankets if it gets too nippy." She paused by the thermostat to turn it up a notch. "Now, Britton, get out of the poor lady's way." He obliged with arms crossed over his chest. It was clear he was trying to bring attention to his muscles that could hurt me if I took advantage of his grandma, but it only pointed out his lack of.

I tucked my bag under the pull out bed, which smelled like old people. The whole room smelled like old people. The generic mix of hospital, furniture, candles, and a faint hint of canned corn.

"Did you have dinner?"

I looked up to find Mabel very much in my personal space, holding a bowl of steaming soup out. Her appearance startled me so much that I couldn't do anything by shake my head. I had fallen asleep on the plane before they even brought snacks around. At that time my stomach chose to make the most horrendous growl.

"You better eat this up. I'll be back with a roll and mug of hot cocoa."

I would have really prefered a cup of tea or even a thermos of hot lemon water, but it seemed wrong to refuse. When she had scurried away to the kitchen, her grandson perched on the arm of the loveseat across from me.