I went back downstairs to get my laundry. This time, I remembered to turn on the light at the head of the stairs. I glanced at Isabelle, who sat huddled in a corner. She was pretty young. Well, probably 18, but when you've finished college, someone who's just starting it seems way younger than you.
I smiled encouragingly at her, and she smiled back. While I gathered up my laundry, she was gathering up her courage, and as I started back upstairs, she asked timidly, "Do you have an extra blanket I could borrow?" Poor thing. Our basement was like, forty degrees or something ridiculously cold like that. I nearly dropped my laundry, exclaiming, "Oh, burlap!" Dalia and make up weird expressions when we feel like cursing. Isabelle laughed. Her laugh was so pretty I almost dropped my laundry again, but that's normal for a klutz like me.
I dumped my laundry on the couch, which earned me a scolding from Dalia, but I was already upstairs by the time she could so much as open her mouth to speak. I selected the nicest, warmest blanket I could find, and sped back downstairs. Isabelle received the blanket with a smile and a thank you. I grinned in return and said, "No problem."
That evening Dalia and I were sitting down to dinner when Dalia jumped up suddenly and exclaimed, "Oh, I need to take Isabelle her food!"
"I'll do it," I offered. I must've said it sooner than I thought I had, because Dalia stared at me, then handed me Isabelle's plate with a skeptical look and an "Alright..."
I thundered down the stairs again with Isabelle's supper. I don't think I'd ever been in the basement this many times in a week. I saw the plate of food safely to Isabelle, then stood, surveying the room with my hands in my pockets. I made some stupid noises and made a few remarks to myself. I figured I sounded like, "Mmm hmm. Yepperdoodle. Ooh. Maybe? No, there. Yeah." Then I dashed upstairs, completely forgetting that I was in the middle of a meal with Dalia. Add that to the list of my characteristics. Forgetful, clumsy, silent, idiotic.
As I ran past Dalia she yelled, "J, food!" Usually that word smacked me back into reality, but now I just yelled, "Later. Got an idea!" If you really want a positive characteristic to add to my list, I guess ingenious wouldn't be completely misleading...
I dashed around the house, gathering pillows, sheets, flashlights, tacks, and several other things I hauled to the basement.
Isabelle glanced curiously at the pile of stuff I dumped on the floor and I grinned at her. Then I trotted back up the stairs and to the garage. Here I scrounged and collected a hammer, some nails, wood scraps, paint, a tape-measure, and some weird "valuable knickknacks," by my definition, or "a load of junk," by Dalia's. All of this went to the basement too. Then I hunted around for a pencil and paper, and began to sketch. Isabelle, who'd finished eating, watched curiously over my shoulder. When I'd finished, I was very satisfied with myself. I started nailing the wood scraps together to make a larger piece of wood. I measured walls, scratched down notes, measured wood, and nailed some more. Almost two hours later, I was done. I had created an entire new wall against our old one, even painted it the same color, leaving about five feet of space between it and the original. Not much, but if I had made it any further away we wouldn't have had much of a basement left. I even made a secret door. I taught Isabelle how to open it, but a verbal explanation wasn't enough to get her to understand. So then I showed her, going through the process myself a few times. Push here, tap there, rub somewhere else, stick your finger in that knothole and pull, etc. I had her try, then, but she got things out of order, or not quite the right spot. This rather pleased me, for it showed that it was very hard to reveal the door. Finally, though, I took her hand and guided it. This process seemed to help, and after a few times opening it that way, she was able to open it herself. "Yay Isabelle!" I cheered when she did, and she laughed. "Alright." I said, pulling a grim face. "Now you just have to learn how to do it from the inside." This was met with a look of dismay, but I grinned and pulled her inside the tiny space. "It's quite simple, really," I said, and shut the door. "Just reversed. Pull where you pushed and push where you pulled, rub where you tapped and tap where you rubbed."
"Right. Really simple."
"You're teasing me!" I accused, and she grinned. "Why, yes, I am." I scowled at her and crossed my arms. "Fine then. You can just stay in here."
"Fine," she replied, "I will. If I've got to stop teasing you to get out of here, I will rot in this cramped little passage and it'll be all your fault."
I had to admit, she was pretty good. I glared at her playfully and showed her how to open the passageway. Despite her surety that she wouldn't, she caught on pretty quickly. I was about to ask her what she wanted to put in her 'room,' when Dalia came down the stairs and stood sternly in front of me, hands on hips. "J, food, now."
I frowned like a little kid but slumped upstairs. I knew Dalia wasn't really mad at me. In fact, I could hear her admiring my handiwork from where I sat eating cold meatloaf and soggy green beans.
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