Housekeeping Page #2

---

All that day

the people of Fingerbone

were reluctant to leave

the hole in the ice.

It could only have been

out of politeness,

for there was really

nothing they could do

for the two hundred

souls on the train.

So, they built fires

and stood around

discussing how the train

might've settled in the lake.

Some imagined it

sinking like a stone,

while others saw it sliding

through the water like an eel.

By the evening, the ice

was already beginning to heal.

All in all, it was a memorable day

in the history of Fingerbone.

It was reported in newspapers

as far away as Denver and Saint Paul.

Relax your arms, Ruthie.

The stiffness goes

all the way down to your feet.

I hate those dogs!

When Grandmother died,

the house and her savings

became Lucille's and mine.

Our great-aunts, Lily and Nona,

came from Spokane to look after us.

They were almost destitute and

appreciated the savings in rent,

but they didn't

take to Fingerbone at all.

This is much too late

for little girls to come in.

The time went by so fast.

We're really sorry.

You see, we can't

go out looking for you.

We might get lost.

Or fall in the ice.

There are no street lights,

and they never sand the roads.

Dogs aren't on chains.

And the cold is so bitter.

We feel it even in the house.

We won't come back

after dark anymore.

You weren't on the ice,

were you?

No.

It's just a broken branch.

Oh, my!

It's just

a cable down. It happens.

Don't worry.

I'll fetch some candles.

Oh, dear!

If you dream

about somebody dead,

does it mean

they're haunting you?

I don't know.

It feels like it.

I don't want to sleep.

If you plan

not to sleep, we could play cards.

I don't think they'll

ever be happy here.

What's going to happen to us?

I don't know.

Well, it can't get much worse.

We could build a moondial

tomorrow in the snow.

Yeah.

Maybe Mom's sister

could come back home.

Maybe.

"Dear Mother,

"I can now be reached

care of the Lost Hills Hotel,

"Billings, Montana,

"or the Myrtle Rooms,

Portland, Oregon.

"Hope you are well.

"Write this time. S."

An itinerant.

She might've changed.

Improved?

It's possible. People do.

Perhaps some attention

from her family?

A family can help.

Responsibility might help.

A sense of home.

It would be home to her.

Yes, it would.

It would.

She should be told

about her mother.

We began to anticipate

the appearance of mother's sister

with all the guilty hope

of Lily and Nona.

Sylvie would be

our mother's age,

and might amaze us

with the resemblance to her.

They'd grown up

in the same house,

eaten the same casseroles,

heard the same songs.

I bet her hair will be

brown like mother's.

Hers wasn't brown.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes