Tag Archives: afraid

THE SKELETON KEY

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I grew up in a small town in New Jersey in the 1950s. In the Summer kids were allowed to stay out after dark until their mother called them home. No one ever locked their doors at night or their cars.

One day my mother showed me a key. She said, ” Anne Marie come here. I want to show you something, I walked over to her and she started whispering in my ear. “Anne Marie this is just between you and me. It’s going to be our little secret. I want you to take this key and keep it safe with you all the time even when you are going to sleep.”

She put the key in my hand. I looked it over. It was almost as big as the palm of my hand. It was scary looking. At the top of the key, there was a skull carved into it. “I don’t like it, mom. Why is there a skeleton face on it?”

“Oh, it’s called a skeleton key. And it‘s been made to fit every keyhole in our house. If you ever have to get out quickly or you need to lock all the doors even the bedroom and the bathroom doors you can do it with this skeleton key. Keep it safe. It may save your life someday.”

“OK Mom, I will I’ll keep it with me all the time.” My mother gave me the key to keep me safe. But I always felt I was safe until she gave me that key. And then I was afraid all the time. I didn’t know what was going to hurt me but I knew something was going to some time, somehow. I wish my mother never gave me that awful Skeleton key.

I felt like I had to be on high alert every day, all day especially when I was home alone. Because the key was meant to keep me safe in my house, in my room, or even in the bathroom. Now when I had to take a bath, I tried to get in and out in ten minutes so whatever was trying to hurt me wouldn’t do it while I was getting a bath, going to the bathroom, or brushing my teeth. I locked the door. And I checked and rechecked it to make sure it was locked.

I was always relieved when I was allowed to go outside and play since I thought my life was only in jeopardy when I was at home. So when I got home from school I would rush into my bedroom and change into my play clothes and run outside as quickly as I could. I wouldn’t come back in until my mother call me in for dinner. When school was in session. I started getting nervous about the school day is over. When I arrived home I would rush out as soon as I could and go and visit some of my friends.

One night at dinner my father said to me, “so Anne Marie what have you been up to, it seems like you are never home. How is school going? How are you doing in Math?”

“School is fine, daddy. I got a B on my last math test. And after school, I visit Betsy or Terri and sometimes I go to the library to get some new books to read. I just like being outside, I guess. Probably because I have to sit in a stuffy classroom all day.

One night I was lying in bed and I was just about to fall asleep when I heard my father calling out,” everybody go outside, there is a problem with the heater and everybody must go outside until I know it’s safe to come back in. I called the fire department.”

I was still sleepy when I heard my father yelling for everyone to get out of the house. I thought something terrible was going to happen and I was scared. I didn’t know what to do. I leaned over and grabbed the skeleton key and ran outside. Everyone in my family was outside in their pajamas.

My father said, “Anne Marie what took you so long?”

“I had to grab the skeleton key before I came outside. Mom told me to take it with me where ever. She told me to lock the doors in the house when I’m home alone or in the bathroom. So, I had to lock all the doors before I came out here so nothing bad would happen while we were all outside.”

My father looked over at my mother and said, “Marion, what in the world were you thinking of when you gave her that skeleton key? Didn’t you notice how nervous and upset Anne Marie has been recent?”

“Well, I guess she has been a little out of sorts recently but I didn’t put two and two together. I just thought she was being her normal moody self. I gave her the key because I thought it would give her a sense of responsibility. And she would realize that I trusted her with something important like our safety. Maybe I went a little overboard with the whole skeleton key thing. I certainly didn’t realize that she would think something bad would happen to her if everything wasn’t locked up. “

My mother looked over at me and said,”Anne Marie, I’m really sorry if you were worried all the time. I just wanted you to realize how much I trusted you and that you were being a responsible young girl. And how much I loved you and trusted you.”

Just at that moment the biggest fireman came over to us and said, “well, everything is fine now. We were able to put the fire out in the basement before any real damage was done. I suggest you call the people that maintain your heater to come over as soon as possible to see what the problem is. And I also wanted to mention that it was a very good idea to close all the doors in the house but it is not necessary to lock the doors. ” You can all go in now and I hope the rest of the evening is uneventful.”

We all said, “Thank you.” at the same time and the fireman smiled at us and said, “good night to you all. Keep safe.”

My mother and father came over and hugged me. And then my mother said, “Anne Marie why don’t you just hang up the Skeleton Key on the hook in the kitchen and when you want to lock the door like when you’re taking a bath you can do it then. But I want you to know that you will always be safe in our house. And that daddy and I love you and will always keep you safe. I’m sorry if you were scared. That was never my intention.”

And then I hugged my parents back and I felt tears rolling down my cheek even though I felt so much better. I guess it was tears of relief or maybe I felt happy again. And we all went into the house and my mother made us all some hot chocolate and that was the first night in months when I fell right to sleep and slept through the night. Oh, I almost forgot right after my mom gave me the hot chocolate she said,” go ahead and put the key on the key hook, and don’t worry about it anymore.”

 

 

STARRY, STARRY NIGHT- A MEMOIR BY SUSAN A. CULVER

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I hear my mother’s voice calling me, “Susan, Susan, it’s time to come in now.” I don’t want to go home yet. I gaze up at the inky blue star-lit sky. I imagine that I’m living on one of those far away stars looking down at my younger self. I see myself standing there in the moonlight with a thousand stars above me. My whole life is ahead of me. The lightning bugs are twinkling all around me. I hear the voices of my neighborhood friends laughing at a distance.  I hear my best friend calling out my name. “Susie, Susie, your mom is calling you. You better go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Photo by Robert Culver

I close my eyes and imagine myself on that faraway star lightyears away. And when I wake up in the morning, I don’t recognize the room I’m in. It smells differently. The room is painted in a weird color that I don’t recognize. My sister’s bed isn’t on the other side of the room.

I throw my legs over the side of the bed and get up and walk over to the window. I look outside. And where there should be the Lombardi’s house there’s nothing but a barren field. I shove the window open and, in the distance, I hear the sound of bells ringing. I say out loud, “that must be the church bells ringing. But where did the Lombardi’s house go? Where is Mr. Lombardi’s police car? Wait, where is the church? I rub my eyes over and over. I convince myself I must be dreaming. This can’t be real. I creep down the steps as quietly as I can. I’m terrified of what I might find. What if my mother and my father, aren’t there? What then? Will I be alone in this strange world?

When I get down to the bottom step, I peep around the wall and look into the kitchen. I don’t see my mother. Where is she? Where’s my mother? Oh, maybe she’s at Mass? Or maybe she’s in her room getting dressed? “Mom, mom, are you down here?” I call out. She doesn’t answer me. No one does. Then I notice that the kitchen doesn’t look the same. The table is smaller and only has four chairs instead of six.

The light over the table looks like an upside-down umbrella instead of the wagon wheel my father recently put up. There is an eerie glow to the room.

The table isn’t set. My mother always sets the table before she goes to church in the morning. The coffee pot isn’t percolating. I can’t remember any day in my whole life when the coffee pot wasn’t on when I got up in the morning. My parents drink coffee all day, every day.

I slowly creep over to the front window in the kitchen. I’m afraid of what I’ll find or what I won’t find. I look across the street. I stare outside onto Fellowship Road that is right in front of our house. There’s a road there but it’s a dirt road. And I don’t see Mrs. McFarland’s house or her garden. In fact, there aren’t any houses. There are instead miles and miles of fields.

I’m beginning to feel panicky. I break out into a sweat. I yell at the top of my voice, “Mom, Dad, where are you?” No answer. In fact, my voice echoes throughout the house. The house feels empty. As if there is no one else anywhere. I frantically run from one room to the next. My mother’s room has a bed and a dresser. None of her personal things are there. Her rosary isn’t draped across her mirror. The rocking chair that she sits in every day to say the rosary isn’t there. The bedspread I crochet for her isn’t lying at the end of her bed. It’s gone.

I run over and look under the bed for it.  The bedspread isn’t there either. I practically rip off my mother’s closet door in my haste to see if my mother’s clothes are in there. Only empty hangers remain.  I look in my father’s small closet. It is empty, as well. Save for his favorite slippers at the back of his closet. I feel a tear run down my cheek soon, followed by countless more. Where are my father and mother, where are they? Has someone stolen my parents? I hear my voice inside my head, screaming,” I want my mother and father, bring them back, bring them back.” I’m crying hard; I can hardly catch my breath.

I finally manage to breath normally and stop crying. I run out of my parent’s bedroom to the bathroom. I can’t open the door immediately it’s stuck. I yank it as hard as I can. It slams into to me, and bangs into my forehead. I feel a knot rising up. No one is in there, and there aren’t any towels hanging on the racks. My mother’s mirror isn’t sitting on top of the toilet tank, where she always puts it. I look at myself in the mirror. I appear the same except for the tear-streaked cheeks and the knot on my forehead. I touch it gingerly. The pain is real enough.

I don’t know what to do or where to go. And then I remember the phone. I can call one of my older sisters. And they will explain it all to me. Maybe my parents are at one of their houses. I run back into the kitchen and dial my sister’s phone number. The phone rings and rings but no one answers. I call my other sister. No answer. I dial 911. No answer. I call my best friend, no answer. I drop the phone and slide down onto the floor and start sobbing in earnest.

Then I decide to go down into the basement maybe they are all hiding down there for some reason and forgot to tell me. Maybe there’s a hurricane coming and all the phone lines came down. That’s happened before. I practically fly down the steps. I yell out, “ Daddy, Mom, where are you? Are you down here?” No one answers me.

I run over to the bilco doors and push as hard as I can. They fly open and slam down on either side. I step outside into what should be my backyard. The yard I have played softball and pitched tents and played hide and seek every summer of my life.

The Willow tree is there and the benches my father built around the massive tree trunk. This is the place where I seek solace and read all the long summer days away. I wrap my arms around its massive base.

I’m so happy to see something that I love so dearly is still here. The tree that offers me a retreat.When I need to be alone and shade from the sultry and humid Summer days. As I sit there, I look around and see nothing else that is familiar. Not the parking lot of the church, no sign of the pump house in the parking lot that I had climbed up so often and then slid down nearly breaking my neck every time.

I don’t see Popular Avenue that should sit right behind the church parking lot. Nothing, just an empty dirt road with no cars, no kids on bikes riding up and down the street, no kids on roller skates. Nothing, no one just me sitting here hugging my tree.

And then I think, where are the birds? Why aren’t the birds flying in the sky and nesting in my tree? How will I go on without all the birds that I love so well? I close my eyes tightly. And wait and wait and wait.

And the next thing I’m aware of is a bright light shining in my eyes. I can see nothing else. Just the unbearably bright light that blocks out everything else. I try to close my eyes but can’t. I try to raise my arms so I can touch my eyelids and see what is holding them open so wide. I can’t. It feels like something is restraining my arms. I begin to feel panicked. I try to yell out, but nothing comes out of my mouth. I’m screaming as loud as I can inside my head. But I hear only silence. I feel a tear make its lonely way down my cheek. What fresh hell is this? Have I been abducted by aliens? Are they going to experiment on me or cut me up in little pieces?

“Doctor, doctor I think she’s waking up. She’s crying. Untie her, take the light out her eyes.”

“Susan, this is Doctor Buckley, can you hear me? Can you see me?

My throat feels dry, I try to swallow, but I can’t there’s something lodged in my throat. I try to cough. But I can’t.

“Doctor, she’s trying to cough. Can’t you remove the tubes?”

“Yes, Susan, this is going to hurt a little. Take a deep, deep breath, and I’m going to pull the tubes out of your throat.”

Tubes out of my throat. What’s happening? I take a deep breath and feel a terrible sense that something big is pulled from deep in my throat. I cough and it’s out. I begin to see something besides the blinding light. My mother, my mother’s face, is there in front of me. I feel more tears running down my face. I say in a voice that I hardly recognize, “Mom, Mommy, where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you and Daddy. There was no one in the house or outside. I called everyone on the phone, and no one answered. Where were you? Why did you leave me all alone?”

“Susan, we didn’t leave you alone. We have been here all along. Do you remember what happened at all?”

“Yes, I remember I woke up and no one was home. Our house looked all different and so did our neighborhood. I couldn’t find anyone. Not even birds, they had all  disappeared.”

“Susan two days ago when you were out playing hid and seek, I called you to come in and you must have fallen and hit your head. The doctor thinks you might have had a seizure. Remember you had them before when you were in church taking Holy Communion? But don’t worry you are going to be perfectly fine. And Susan, we would never leave you alone. We will always be here for you for however long you need us. Until you are grown up.”

I look at my mother’s sweet face and at my father’s face that for once had a smile on it from ear to ear. And I started crying again, only this time it was from happiness. My father said, “Oh no, here comes the waterworks again.”

My mother said, “Oh Harry don’t be such a grouch.”

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