53 Ganymede

Episode 30 - Spring Cleaning

A woman stood in front of the house and considered its stately gardens and well-manicured lawn, still vibrant through the rain and mist. In her hands she held a newspaper clipping, its words beginning to smudge from the rain and the nervous heat of her fingers. She checked the blurred address against the one hanging on the wall.

53 Ganymede Avenue.

It wasn't what she had expected. Not for the rent listed in the ad. She looked down at her soaking wet jeans and back up to the towering brick and ivy. To the crisp edges of garden and perfectly trimmed shrubbery.

What if they didn't want... well... someone like her?

She shivered, her light sweater hardly enough protection against the early autumn air. That was enough to spur her forward, up the steps to the black front door. With one last deep breath stinging her lungs, she rapped the ornate bronze knocker three times.

It wasn't long before the door peeked open to reveal a willowy woman, her long brown hair hanging limply around her shoulders. She didn't speak, only regarded the visitor from her position, half-hidden behind the heavy door. The first woman hesitated, suddenly beset by a series of aromas — strawberries and cream, basil, a touch of pine, and a hint of something else, something earthy and spicy all at once. The scents dissipated quickly on the damp morning air, leaving only the promise of warmth still leaking through the open doorway.

"Um, I'm Rosemary. I — I called about the apartment. Is it — is it still available?"

For a moment, Rosemary thought the woman might cry, but instead she gave a resigned sort of smile and opened the door wider. "Come in," she said.

Rosemary nearly leaped through the doorway, but managed to restrain herself for fear of displeasing her host; she couldn't afford to be turned away this time.

The inside of the house was even more stately than the exterior, and Rosemary become suddenly aware of her sodden form and the water pooling on the neat tile floor under her tattered shoes. Thankfully the other woman hardly looked at her, instead chewing her lip while her eyes drifted up the impressive stairwell. She mounted the first couple of steps before acknowledging Rosemary's presence, "Your room is up this way."

Rosemary hesitated, looking once more at her sodden sneakers. Without turning her host added dispassionately, "You can leave your shoes, if you'd like. Some do. Some don't."

Rosemary hurriedly kicked off her shoes and then tucked them neatly between the door and an old umbrella stand, being careful to step around the puddle she'd left behind. The other woman was already several steps ahead, so she rushed to catch up, eyeing the doors off of the first floor landing once they reached it. Without saying anything, her host continued on up the stairs to the third floor, Rosemary tagging along in the uncomfortable silence.

After mounting the final step, the woman turned left and gestured toward a door. "This is your apartment."

With a nod, Rosemary waited, but her host simply continued to stand in front of the door. Finally she moved as if to rub something out of her eye and then reached into a pocket for a small, ornate key which she fit carefully into the lock. She opened the door and reached out an arm to invite Rosemary in. As she passed, Rosemary thought the woman's eyes seemed glassy and maybe even a little red around the edges, but before she could dwell on the thought, she was distracted by the room before her.

The door opened on a tiny kitchen: a sliver of counter space, a single-basin sink, an apartment-sized fridge and oven. Across from it a door opened on an even tinier bathroom. Despite its size, Rosemary didn't feel claustrophobic — on the contrary, the room seemed to embrace her as she entered, lending her a sense of security she couldn't recall since her grandmother's death. Since she'd had warm arms around her — the kind that waited patiently, the kind she didn't have to worry would disappear, or worse, turn rigid and dangerous. Rosemary wrapped her sweater tighter around herself as she walked further into the apartment, silently hoping her own arms would be enough.