Chapter 205: Cecile XV—There are No Spiders in December
Cecile had never been afraid of things like bicycles, and heights, and enclosed spaces. She had seen people afraid of those things and often she grew annoyed with them. To her it was equal to being afraid of the Earth because one day it might shake under one’s feet. To be afraid of the huge forces that were beyond your control was pointless, because always, to some degree, you could avoid them.
What frightened Cecile were the little things. One could never control the little things, like the little claws on a rat that would dare to slip into one’s bed, or a spider that would dangle over one’s face or the workings inside the mind of a mother who wanted to sculpt one’s mind until it was fashioned, bloodless stone, or the burning eyes of a man who did not understand that there were things that he could not have, and never would. These were the things to fear because an Earthquake or a hurricane was never searching for you; it wasn’t planning to harm you. Little creatures could be spiteful and the workings of a human mind are always prone to purposeful damage.
Cecile knew enough to know that her mother helped fashion a lot of it inside her, fear. Don’t leave your bed messy because the rats will crawl into it and claw your legs when you go to bed. Don’t let the dust settle because the spiders will crawl into it and fall into your hair. Don’t leave your hair down because the men will look at you, lock you in a dark room and do bad things with you… they will do it to you… that’s all they want…
Cloistered had been the word for Cecile’s life as she was growing up. She had tried to buck her mother’s rules when she was a young girl, she had run past the lawn, down the street, been found hours later as she threw scraps of bread at the geese in the park. Her mother had locker her in her bedroom for a week to teach her a lesson. She had submitted almost immediately realizing fast that with trust came freedom. She did everything her mother asked her too, she stopped fidgeting in church, she read the bible, and she scorned the television and the wickedness that was inherent with it. Her mother smiled then, left her alone more often, praised her and did not apply the tightness on the leash.
Cecile had discovered something then. As she read the passages of the bible, and listened to the sermons in the church that her mother conformed to none of the standards of Christian compassion, love, generosity and forgiveness. Her mother was wrong, but Cecile found a peace in knowing that forgiveness could help you cope. She had resigned herself that perhaps someday she would leave, find a quiet solitary life and die a solitary death.
Danny of course had awakened her need for someone soothing and kind. Taking care of children awakened the need in her breast to want some of her own, to raise them and spoil them with love and love of learning and love of what religion truly was.
Obey thy mother. Respect thy elders. Cecile was dangling on that thread of her that was sharply fastened to her mother’s fingers. The thread was held together by the bible’s admonition to respect and love one’s parents and Cecile did not want to destroy it. She wanted, above all things, for her mother to learn true love by example. She wanted her mother to meet Danny, see his sparkling smile, see what a wonderful human being he was, his purity and she would know then that she was wrong and that goodness could exist outside of their world. She knew her mother would come around, she just knew it.
But the
fear remains in my heart, Cecile thought to herself as
she drove up to the front of the
Women were weak creatures. She knew her mother was correct about that. The evidence of it lived in this house, in a woman who lived with a brutal man, who desperately upheld a fantasy of domestic bliss just so she would not suffer the heartbreak of the world knowing she had made a mistake so many years ago when she thought she was in love. It was a sad, oft told tale Cecile had seen over and over in the shelters she had volunteered in. She had seen the women, middle class, poor, shivering creatures clawing their nails over their ears as their husbands howled and screamed for them outside. Never did she see rich women.
Pride never allowed those women to come for help, that and a love of the money that soaked their lives. And that was a major weakness, perhaps the strongest one of all.
“Hi Cecile,” Freddy Roy said in a high voice as she entered the house.
Cecile smiled; this was the one she liked. “Hey Fred,” she said. “How ya doing, muffin?”
Freddy wrinkled his nose, reminding her of a kitten that was cringing from a loud noise and he grinned. “Hey Cecile,” he said. “Can you talk some sense into Jana cause she won’t listen to me.”
Cecile felt her heart skid; her palms go cold then warm. She glanced around with a nervous flush in her blood, what were they up to?
“Where’s your brother?” she asked, not particularly looking forward to learning of the oldest boy’s latest exploits.
“He’s at hockey practice with Nick,” Freddy said.
Cecile narrowed her eyes, “And your mother?”
Freddy’s eyes widened. “She’s having her massage, we stressed her out today so much that she started crying so I don’t think I should bother her anymore tonight.”
Cecile pressed her hand to her mouth. “Omigosh,” she said. “Is she okay?”
Freddy nodded. “Sure, she is. She gets like that sometimes and I know it’s cause we’re so noisy but when she has a massage she gets better.”
She was a woman, not a monster. How could I have compounded her misery? It’s unforgivable, I’m unforgivable.
“Oh no!” Freddy said and the boy stepped towards her, patted her on the arm with a warm, damp hand. “Don’t look like that, it’s okay. Mom’s fine.”
Cecile blinked slowly and tried to focus on the boy’s delicate features. “What?”
Freddy grabbed her hand, “You looked really sad, don’t be. I just need some help with Jana.”
Cecile hopped behind the boy, amazed at the strength in which he pulled her. “What’s wrong with Jana?” Well it couldn’t be that serious if he wasn’t willing to bother their mother about it.
“A spider!” Freddy said. “It has her cornered in her bedroom.”
Cecile’s heart pumped with fear at the thought… “A spider?” she asked. “You’re a boy can’t you kill it?”
Freddy tightened his grip on her hand. “No I’m scared of spiders! They’re gross.”
Cecile swallowed, she would have to deal. It would be selfish of her to abandon the children because of her fears. “I don’t hear Jana screaming,” Cecile said. “Is she okay?”
“I don’t know,” Freddy said. “It could be poisonous!”
“But Fred!” Cecile said as the thought crossed her mind. “It’s December! There are no spiders!”
Freddy stopped and let go of her hand. He turned around and frowned. “Don’t be silly,” he said with a half grin. “There are spiders everywhere, you just have to look out for them. Most people don’t know they’re there.”
Cecile felt her cheeks redden and she looked away from the boy. His eyes had filled with such knowledge, such solemn superiority that it unnerved her. These children were endowed with dancing eyes, their emotions were impossible to hide.
“Your sister,” she said quietly.
“Oh yeah!” Freddy exclaimed and he grabbed her hand again, went running down the hallway. “JANA! I brought Cecile! She’ll kill it!”
Cecile was gasping when they finally had rounded the last long, luxurious hallway and tumbled into the little girl’s candy box room. Jana was sitting on the bed, her back to them, her long blond hair loose over her back.
“Jana,” Freddy gasped. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Yup,” Jana replied. “It’s okay. We don’t need to kill him.”
Cecile looked at Freddy who was frowning as he looked back at her.
“What?” Freddy exclaimed.
Jana giggled and turned around looking as pretty as a daffodil peeking from snow. “He said he wouldn’t hurt me,” she said. “I’m okay.”
“HE?” Freddy exclaimed and Cecile could hear an irritated edge to his voice. “Jana don’t be a weirdo! Mom said to stop doing that!”
Jana narrowed her eyes and her cheeks deepened to a brilliant red. “I am NOT!” she snapped. “He said he wouldn’t hurt me and to not let anyone step on him.”
“Argh!” Freddy growled and he pressed his hands over his face. “My sister’s crazy! Everyone is crazy except me!”
“I am NOT!” Jana squealed and she jumped off the bed.
“Fred did you even see the spider?” Cecile asked.
“No,” Freddy said in a low, dull voice. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”
“OOO!” Jana growled and she reached over her bed and grabbed a large jar, “I even caught him, hehehehe! He belongs…” Jana stopped talking, grinned, was holding the jar behind her body, “TO ME!” She leaped forward and held the jar up to Freddy’s face. The boy screamed and fell back onto the ground and Cecile screamed as well when Jana shoved the jar up to her. Inside the jar was the biggest, fattest, hairiest, most active spider she had ever seen. She could actually hear its feet pounding against its glass prison as it thrashed frantically trying to escape.
“Oh NO!” Cecile gasped and fell back against the wall. “Get that away from me!”
Jana giggled and hugged the jar. “I even punched punched holes into it so he can breathe.”
“That’s just GROSS!” Freddy snapped. “Flush it!”
“Noooo!” Jana squealed. “You can’t kill my IGOR!”
“Igor?” Cecile asked and then remembering the state of their mother she took a deep breath and patted the little girl on her shoulder to calm her. “Darling, tell me, you named him?”
Jana’s anger melted and she nodded. “Mmhmm,” she said. “Well I didn’t name him, he told me his name. He wants to stay safe until the LORD turns him back into…” She squinted and pursed her lips. “I’ve said too much,” she whispered. “Both of you, out of my room!”
“No problem,” Freddy said and he tugged Cecile, “She’s nuts.”
“How about imaginative?” Cecile said to Freddy. “She obviously has one.”
Freddy laughed, “Yeah,” he said. “That’s just a nice way of saying crazy.”
“Oh,” Cecile said and she brushed her hand over the boy’s wild hair. “Be nice.”
Freddy shrugged. “Have you seen Jonathan? Hehe I’m a sweetie!”
Cecile smiled. “Yes..”
Cecile sat down in the kitchen with Freddy, rolling a game of Yahtzee with the boy. Things didn’t fit. She knew the products of an abusive father, she had seen the sullen, frightened children crushed of spirit or bursting with it. These children were noisy, vibrant, completely devoid of tact and unaware that there could be repercussions to the way they handled themselves. They were children who were confident that there would be no harm come to them from their parents.
It was too confusing to think about, like a spider in December.
Cecile smelled the fragrant oil and then she heard her voice. “What are you doing to your sister, I could hear her screaming.”
Freddy sighed. “Mom would I do anything to hurt her?”
Cecile saw Michele’s tired eyes, a tired smile, a worn face without make up. “Of course you wouldn’t,” she said. “So sorry to… oh hello Cecile so nice to see you.”
Cecile smiled and was amazed to feel a genuine one. “Hi Mrs. Roy, how are you feeling?”
Michele sighed and closed her eyes. “Just wonderful.”
“Mrs. Roy I have to be…”
Cecile felt a charge of something odd when she saw the young woman who entered the kitchen. It was initially fear, and recognition, it was the feeling of looking into a mirror and your reflection is gazing in the wrong direction. The young woman was looking at her now, with vaguely the same expression.
“My God!” the woman said.
I know your eyes! Cecile couldn’t help thinking.
“Your eyes!” the woman said. “What?”
Cecile shook her head.
“Ooo,” Michele said. “This is our weekend nanny, Cecile, meet Katrina, the teams massage therapist and a wonderful one I might add.”
It’s impossible, Cecile thought and then she felt anger. How much could her mother have not told her?
Katrina’s face was pale, her anger reminded Cecile of her mother’s face when she was enraged, down to the line between her eyebrows. “What is your full name? It’s not possible… Chloe?”
“Danceny,” Cecile said, “Cecile Danceny.”
“Of course,” Katrina said and she closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, it was stupid of me, sorry.”
Katrina left quickly and Cecile didn’t know exactly what to feel. She felt embarrassed. She looked at Michele who had an expression on her face that seemed somewhat, amused?
“It is an amazing resemblance,” Michele said.
Cecile swallowed. “I don’t know how to feel about it.”
“She lost a sister I think,” Michele said. “I suppose it was a shock to her.”
Cecile frowned. “Mrs. Roy, you don’t understand. I think… we have to be related she looks… she looks just like my mom’s high school pictures.”
“Really?” Michele said. “Well then, you should have a talk with her when she comes back.”
Cecile nodded. “I think I will.”
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