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I wonder as I wander . . .
Mental Mastrubation and Other Musings |
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OHMYGOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Actually I’m backing up and screaming my head off but that doesn’t sound as dramatic as OHMYGOD!) On the small polished oak wood box I opened with the small gold key were the preserved remains of an infant-Mummified baby in the prettiest silk, lace christening gown. The skin had a dark brown leathery look but more horrifying were perfectly preserved, steel blue eyes fixed in a blank stare on me. Her head crowned in soft black curls. If not for the smell and the clearly human features I would have thought it was a demented doll. I stood trembling in the corner staring at the opened chest surrounded in a mound of monogrammed silken sheets that draped the tiny coffin hidden all these years. I tried calling Bryant on my cell phone but the reception was poor. I tripped going down the attic stairs not stopping until I got to the porch. Out of breath I speed dialed Bryant again. He picked up on the third ring. I never gave him a chance to greet me because I was spouting out my story about the attic and my morbid find. Bryant Cappricolla, has been by boyfriend since our freshman year of college. We met in a social club called “The Blended Bunch,” a group made up of children of mixed parentage. When he met my grandmother she referred to us as “A can of mixed nuts!” Anyway, Bryant’s dad is Korean/African American and his mother Native American/Philippino. He gave a whole new meaning to the term “other” but I found his Afro-Asian fusion stunningly handsome. The first time I saw that science geek decked in horn-rimmed glasses, rumpled shirt and ripped jeans I saw potential. My friends laughed at him until the day he strolled in our dorm with contacts and new clothes after my make over. Suddenly he became hot but I already had my claws in him real deep and haven’t let go in six years. Ironically, Bryant is a forensic scientist in Westchester County’s NY, Coroner’s Office. He was planning to visit this weekend but my call will have him arriving early.
“Put the brakes on, take a breath, and tell me the story again,” he said in a calming tone. “I repeated the story and before I could finish he told me he’d take the next flight out and be there by night fall. Trying to get a grip on the situation seemed impossible. “Bryant recommended I call the police but I when I thought of the media scrutiny my family would be under the scandal would be too great to endure. I’ll convince him to do an autopsy without all the legal intervention. This may seem impossible to you but I can do things to him that always guarantees I’ll get my way. I walked over to the palmetto tree my grandmother tied me to all those years ago and looked up at the attic window realizing the baby’s coffin sat underneath it. That had to be the baby crying that night but how could it be heard from inside a coffin under all those satin sheets behind a shut window? I’m more scared now than the night I first heard the cries as the questions out weighed the answers. I nervously reentered the house, grabbed my purse and keys decided I’d turn to the only place I knew would have answers. I drove towards the cottage grandmother had built for Aunt Agnes and Brandi. No doubt these women held family secrets in between still tongues and false teeth. Knowing how the Haberdashers love keeping their trump cards well hidden I had to think about how to play my hand without showing them. There they sat on the front landing as if anticipating my arrival. I pulled up, took a deep breath, and braced myself. They were snapping beans grown in the garden out back. Using identical bowls while moving in unison their synchronicity always gave me the heebie jeebs! “Look sister it’s the prodigal niece come to apologize for her nasty ass attitude,” Aunt Brandi said with out stopping the bean snapping. “REAL nasty ass!” Aunt Agnes echoed. I mentally swatted a way her gnat-like comment. The direct approach was needed “The baby in the attic . . .” I said calmly before they cut me off. “Ain’t no baby in the . . .” I cut them off “Yes there is fifty-two satin small sheets with the small monogram NB in the left corner; Polished oak coffin in cedar chest with cushion satin lining; Baby with leathery brown skin ; head full of black curly hair, perfect pale blue glass eye staring at you . . .” they didn’t cut me off this time in fact Aunt Agnes dropped her bowl of pea as the blood drained from he pale face. “Don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout and we want you off our land or” Aunt Brandi finished the sentence “We’ll call the authorities.” I could tell they were genuinely shocked and scared which in turn made me more worried. “I’ll go now but I’ll be back and if you two don’t give me answers there’s a great move in y’alls near future.” I got back in the car and drove away. In the rear view mirror the conversation become very animated as they glared in the direction of the rearview. Now there were more questions than ever. I drove pass the backyard remembering all the unhappy times I sat in those manicured gardens wishing for freedom. As I park out front new fear commingles with my old unhappy. I summon bravery enter the foyer, enter the living room, and sit on the French provincial couch. Feeling uncomfortable, memories of being curled up on the couch at home in the safety of Bryant’s arms soothes my nerves. “It’s yours to carry now.” were the last words I heard grandmother say but I thought it was the ramblings of a dying woman. Did she mean I’d be the sentinel guarding family secrets as she had or was she referring to the mummified baby in the attic? A car in the private jarred my thoughts and I ran out to see my aunt’s car drive pass the house like it was a float in a parade. Simultaneously they looked in my direction and the expression made the scary afternoon seem like a typical day. Their departure was peculiar because those two don’t leave the property after sun down.
I walked back toward the house dazed by the day’s events. Sitting in the foyer was a blood red velvet with a small gold key tied to a old black ribbon. If those hags just drove pass and I’ve been on the porch for five seconds, who left this? (To be continued . . .)