Our car pulled up the driveway. Summer was officially over. Six weary travelers trudged to the back door. My mother was carrying 6-year old Casey, who was sound asleep.
Father fished for the house key.
“Hey, what’s that ringing?” I asked to no one in particular.
An eerie bell echoed repeatedly from inside. Everyone traded glances.
“Probably just a short in the door bell,” Max said.
I rolled my eyes. Max had an answer for everything.
Dad fit the key into the lock and turned.
As soon as the door opened into the darkened back hallway, we heard what sounded like a waterfall in the distance. Hardwood floors were under inches of water that lapped up to their ankles. My mother flipped the light switch. Formerly elegant grass cloth wallpaper was peeling off hallway walls in sheets. The air was close, sauna-like.
I was terrified. Had I left my tub running all of this time? No. Please, God.
I took hold of my little sister’s hand. Max followed behind Casey and me. We made our way to the front staircase.
Please don’t be my fault, please don’t be my fault, I repeated under my breath. My mother would never forgive me.
The carpeted front staircase was soft, squishy—and already buckling in. We climbed a staircase that had once been so beautiful, my mother often commented it would be perfect for a wedding procession.
My stomach was churning. Four bedrooms were located on the second floor. We reached the back hall. My bedroom door was closed.
Nervously, I opened the door and turned on the light. Max started screaming. The ceiling had caved in. It was lying in massive heaps on my side-by-side twin beds. A garish hole that looked like a scene from Shark Attack was all that was left of the ceiling.
The source of the waterfall? Water from the attic bathroom was pouring through.
Little Casey started to cry. Max couldn’t stop screaming. I was in shock.
“It’s O.K., it’s O.K., it’s O.K.,” I chanted, trying unconvincingly to soothe Max and Casey and wishing for the millionth time that summer that Bobby was there. But he had gotten away—a summer wrestling camp—before his junior year.
My parents came running.
My mother gasped.
It was a wonder we hadn’t been electrocuted. We were standing in ponding water.
Dad suddenly realized the danger they were all in.
“Quick! We need to get out of here!”
As if jarred from a nightmare, I felt terror never before experienced. Still holding Casey, I filed out the front door behind my parents and over the lawn, all of us running and screaming for help. I thought any second the house was going to explode.
Across the street, Ed and Evelyn Simon were returning from a dinner party. They saw us running.
“David. Anna. What’s wrong?” shouted Mr. Simon.
We stopped at the foot of our neighbor’s driveway.
Breathless, my father explained.
The Simon’s rushed them all inside and called the fire department. Within minutes, police cars and fire trucks filled the normally tranquil tree‑lined Shaker Heights street. In all manner of sleep attire, neighbors came out of their houses to investigate.
My parents paced the sidewalk as the police and firemen investigated. Mrs. Simon brought us children into her house and sat with us at her granite kitchen table. The elegant woman was still dressed in a beautiful, white, off the shoulder cocktail dress.
Would you like some cookies or a cold drink, children?”
Casey was too young to be worried. She took a cookie.
“No thank you,” Max mumbled.
I wasn’t hungry. Her heart was still pounding. I was starting to shake uncontrollably. Mrs. Simon placed her wrap around my shoulders.
Her kids are grown up and gone, but she looks younger than my mother. Why doesn’t mom ever wear make‑up? Or get her hair done?
Mrs. Simon walked past me, out of the room.
Or perfume?
Max interrupted my thoughts. “Man, I wonder if my baseball cards are O.K.?”
I stared coldly. “How can you worry about your stupid cards at a time like this?”
He stuck out his tongue and got comfortable in front of the television. The game was on. Cleveland was losing.
Matthew pounded his fist on the sofa’s arm. “He’s gonna strike out—again.”
It was a long time before their parents returned.
When they did, their faces were ashen. My father had to clear his throat a few times before speaking.
“We won’t be living in our home for a good long while. The firemen think the main water pipe on the third-floor burst. The water has probably been running full-force for three weeks.” He sighed. “We’ll know more in broad daylight, but it looks like the inside will have to be completely rebuilt.”
Gutted, he sat down at the table and rubbed his face with his hands.
I felt guilty about the relief I was feeling that I hadn’t left the sink running.
I asked, “You paid Timmy Herbert to turn on the sprinklers while we were gone. The faucet is at the front door. How could he not notice?”
Her dad shrugged, staring at the patterns in the Simon’s granite tabletop.
Max asked, “Dad, where will we stay?”
Dad didn’t answer right away. “I guess a motel until we can find an apartment or something else long term.”
He reached for his phone.
Mrs. Simon nodded while Mr. Simon uttered, “We’ll leave-you-be—to give you some privacy. Take all the time you need. David, Anna. Evelyn and I will just go up and change.”
I looked up. “Here’s your wrap, Mrs. Simon.”
“Sweetheart, you keep it on for a while.”
She patted my disheveled hair and disappeared up the stairs with her husband. I looked at my mother to see her reaction. Had she heard a word? My mother was standing at the front window, staring at her deserted home. Rigid.
A chill went through me, in spite of the silk shawl draped around my shoulders in the middle of August. I noticed a trail of cigarette smoke floating up towards the ceiling, always the dead give-away. Was it only that morning that my mother had approached me with Lake George only footsteps away? In spite of summer temperatures, the breeze was crisp but mild enough to keep sand from blowing. A perfect day for sketching.
Mother had hiked up to where I had been sketching the dock.
“Car’s packed and ready to go, Suze. How about you?”
“Yeah, I’m ready.”
“You know, Sue, I’ve been thinking. With school starting, you probably need some new things. Let’s plan on shopping when we get home.”
I was dumbfounded. Had she entered a parallel universe? Maybe a T.V. sitcom?
We ambled towards the waiting car.
Just when things seemed to be better. Sigh.
Another trail of cigarette smoke floated up, making its way towards the Simon’s living room ceiling.
No telling what lay ahead.
