Chapter Five: Spooky Day

 

Celeste's unexpected visitor was Mack.
"I do not want to see you" she began.  Then she did a double-take. "Oh my.. .. What happened to your face?"
"This?" Mack smiled "It's pie juice.  I had to defend my title."
"You're insane.  You turn up, out of the blue, looking like something from a horror film."
"I thought if I looked in distress you'd have to let me in." Mack grinned, he was going for charming; and it was working.  "Do you have a sink so I can clean up?"
"Ugh, I suppose so." Celeste rolled her eyes.
Mack didn't stay long, but his visit had served it's purpose.  After that, he and Celeste were friends. 

 On the night of Halloween, Celeste was invited to a party at Jenni's new house.  A costume party.  Celeste went with a daring mermaid outfit.  She met quite a few more townsfolk. 

She met Jenni's mother Renee, it was nice to put a face to the name given how much her daughter had revealed during their candid talks.

Jenni had a young daughter, a darling child who was openly affectionate with everyone, even with all these strangers in her home.  She seemed to take a shine to Celeste, although that might have been the costume.  Blaise was there also, but not Mack.  Celeste's first reaction was to hang her head in shame, hoping her blush didn't give her away.  Then she got a grip and firmly coached herself that it was Mack who had pursued her and they, neither of them, had done anything improper.  A couple of drinks later and Celeste began to enjoy the party again.  She noticed Blaise wasn't drinking and then scolded herself for watching so closely.

Celeste had a great success with a nautical-themed ghost story.  It was a bit childish with a torch, on the deck in the growing darkness of early evening, but the others seemed to enjoy it and the alcohol she'd consumed kept her from feeling too self-conscious.

When it was time to leave, Celeste thanked her host for a good time and went home with a feeling of great contentment.

Mack continued to come around, sometimes on short notice.  Celeste didn't have a TV, so they'd talk.  Small-talk, unimportant things.  Sometimes Mack would stay late and Celeste would have to cook enough dinner for two.  Mack and Blaise didn't live together, so Celeste was fairly certain she wasn't cause for domestic dispute; but she worried how Blaise would feel if she knew just how much time Mack was spending in her little hovel.

His antics were cause for laughter one evening while Celeste was out with Julienne, another new friend. Girl-talk fuelled by cocktails.
"I think he likes you" Julienne giggled in a conspiratorial way, which was totally obvious because of her intoxication.
"He's with Blaise" Celeste protested.
"Then what's he doing hanging with you silly?" Julienne punched at Celeste's arm playfully. "They went to prom and all but I think Mack and Blaise were over years ago."
"You're drunk" Celeste complained "You don't know what you're talking about."  Internally Celeste cringed.  Was the situation so obvious?  Did Julienne know that Mack had been around twice already that week?  Suddenly it was important that Julienne know that Mack was not being unfaithful.  "It's really not like that, we're just friends."
"Yeah" Julienne snickered "Friends" she made exaggerated quote marks in the air with her fingers.
"Ugh.  I'm taking you home.  You've clearly had too much to drink.  Anyone would think you were eighteen.  And for the record, Mack has been nothing but a perfect gentleman."
"Bummer" Julienne snorted.  A small part of Celeste had to agree.

Chapter Four: New Additions

It seemed Celeste had barely gotten home when her mobile rang.  Caller ID showed an unfamiliar number, also a mobile. 
"Hello" Celeste answered.
"Hi. (pause)  Celeste? (another pause) It's Mack."
"What?!" it came out shrilly.  The shock causing Celeste to forget her manners.
"Umm.  Yeah.  Listen, I just wanted to talk to you."
"Wait.  How did you get my number?"
"It was in the phone book."
"No it's not.  I haven't been here a year yet. So it couldn't be."
"Damn." the curse was barely audible, muttered under the breath. "Well, I spoke to Justin.  You know; from the thrift store?  He has you on his records."
"What are you, some kind of stalker?" Celeste was incredulous.  She wondered briefly if she should just hang up.
"No." Mack stammered "Mm, I see how this might look.  It's just that I really wanted to talk to you; after the whole incident at the park."
"You told me you had a girlfriend" Celeste replied, horrified.  What was going on?
"I do. Blaise and I have known each other like forever." Mack trailed off  "Twinbrook's a really small town and I know you're new here." Mack seemed to be regaining his confidence.  His voice was more steady.  "Just because I have a girlfriend doesn't mean that I can't have friends.  I know the thing at the park was awkward.  I wanted to call and apologise.  'Cause I'd like to get to know you (pause) as a friend I mean."
"This is too weird.  Besides, I thought I was the one with the big mouth."
"Just think about it?  Like I said, it's a little town.  I'm sure I'll see you around."
Celeste cringed slightly at the thought.  How bad would it be the next time she saw him in the street? "Mmm" she responded in a non-committal tone.
"I'm going to go now; okay?"
"OK"
"Bye"
"Bye" Celeste said with a slight tinge of regret and hung up.

 

Celeste was distracted the rest of the afternoon.  Time passed in a blur.  One thing Celeste was certain of; she was going to kill Justin for giving out her number.  He was supposed to be a professional.  She thought he was her friend.  She was in her nightshirt, scrubbing the bench more forcefully than necessary as she vented her sense of betrayal and outrage.  And who did Mack think he was, running straight to him for her number like that?  Ringing bold as brass.  'He could have friends' huh.  Celeste huffed.  An inner voice asked if she wasn't being a bit childish, she wasn't exactly in high school anymore.  Men and women socialised.  Maybe he just wanted to apologise for embarrassing her.  Small town, being diplomatic about others feelings was fairly important.  The internal argument came around full circle.  It was still too much that he'd tracked down her number like that and just how did he know she'd be in Justin's records anyway?  Celeste went to bed unsatisfied and confused.

For the next several weeks, Celeste forgot about Mack Lively.  Justin made it up to her when he surprised her with a tiny border collie named Angel. A local farmer had pups and had asked Justin to help find homes for them.  At first, Celeste thought this was a hare-brained scheme. She wasn't even sure if she'd be allowed a pet.   However, it turned out that the advantage of having such an old and ill-kept rental was that the landlord didn't much mind.

 

Celeste took Angel for walks up to the junkyard.  The puppy loved to run and sometimes it was a tough job to be fast enough to scoop her up when it was time to go home.  Treats helped.  Bribery is fair game with animals.  Often enough, Celeste would find some interesting bit or another which she would leave by the gate until Angel was back on her leash.

Celeste set up a workbench in the basement.  She would spend hours working her pieces of scrap.  Once he'd seen a few of her finished pieces, Justin agreed to try to sell them for her.

Angel woke Celeste up early each morning.  Soon a routine began to emerge.  Angel would bark for food, which would startle Celeste awake.  Normally this would earn the puppy an impassioned growl, after which Celeste would turn on the lamp and make the bed.  After fixing them both breakfast Celeste would brush her teeth, change into an old top and apron, then descend the stairs to spend some time at her workbench.  Once she was too tired or uninspired to continue working, Celeste would come back upstairs, check on Angel and then take a shower.  In the afternoons she would either deliver her latest pieces to Justin or head to the junkyard to collect more scrap.

It was October and Celeste was hollowing out a pumpkin to make a jack-o-lantern when there was a knock at her door.

Chapter Three: Settling In

 

Weeks passed quickly after Celeste made her decision that night on the swing.  Things could have been better.  The conversation with her mother had been absolutely dreadful.  Arguments about how she was "Too far away from help if she needed it" and how she was "Stupid to throw away all that time and money" had hurt and frustrated Celeste; but not changed her mind.  The kitchen sink had basically exploded without reason or warning.  Good thing Celeste was practical and had managed to shut down the mains after her initial soaking.  She was without water for most of day before a plumber could be sent around.

The old oven was touch-and-go.  Celeste managed to cook, something she enjoyed and was good at, but it wouldn't be long before the oven needed replacing.  Twice when trying to prepare dinner, the oven had overloaded the circuit breaker plunging Celeste into sudden darkness.  She learnt to keep a torch in the kitchen drawer.

 

On the other hand, Celeste began to make new friends.  Jenni Jones-Brown was older than Celeste and worked at one of those spa places where women can get manicures, massages and beauty treatments.  When they met, Jenni lived with her parents.  Things were less than tranquil in their marriage.  Celeste and Jenni were able to be there for each other in the difficulties with family.

 

Celeste still didn't have a job.  She checked the paper regularly of course.  She even asked Jenni if she knew of anyone who was hiring.  Once the morning chores were finished, Celeste spent much of the long days outside, sketching the fantastic landscape.

There was a thrift shop in town.  The sort of place where one can sell their old furniture or maybe some craft they'd made.  It quickly became Celeste's favourite place even if she was restricted in her spending.  She was able to buy a second-hand bookcase for her tiny collection of recipes, do-it-yourself manuals and paperbacks.

The clerk was a nice young man named Justin. Although Celeste was not attracted to him in that way (and she was pretty certain that he wasn't into her) they talked; a lot.  They talked about art and they talked about books.  Celeste told about her nostalgic trip to the junkyard and about making things out of scrap.  She confessed her desire to try her hand at sculpting.  He told how the store had belonged to his father and his father before him.  He liked to take stuff apart and put it back together.  He built computers out of the bits people got rid of.

As she couldn't afford a new car, Celeste found herself a bicycle as a temporary means of getting around.  'Oh well' she told herself 'It's good exercise'.  Summer came to an end and the trees lost their leaves.  There was a chill in the air as Celeste rode around town.

 

Quite suddenly, Celeste met a man she did like.  He introduced himself as Mack Lively, though Celeste wasn't positive if that was his actual name or more like something that people called him.  His tone was cheeky, playful and Celeste was instantly captivated.

"Mack" she said "Are you single?"  She regretted the words almost as soon as they left her mouth.

"Actually, I have a girlfriend." Mac smiled.  Celeste walked away mortified, with a barely mumbled apology.  She didn't turn back when he called for her to stop.



Chapter Two: Welcome to Twinbrook

 

Next morning Celeste woke up disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings.  She moaned quietly when she remembered the strenuous cleaning and the feeling of being cheated.  She wasn't sure what time it was, but it felt like early morning.  She'd slept well, despite the strange bed.  Celeste got up and padded on bare feet into the kitchen.  A quick bowl of cereal.  Make the bed.  She was brushing her teeth when she thought 'What now?'  She'd have to make a decision today.  Stay on or pack it in?

Celeste decided to do her thinking in town.  After all, if she was leaving soon she may as well enjoy the sights.  Besides she felt quite well enough acquainted with the house having scrubbed so much of it yesterday.  Another taxi dropped her off outside a bookshop.  Celeste browsed the shelves and watched the families doing their shopping.  She didn't really have any money to spend on books however.  Celeste moved on.

There was a garden.  All kinds of fruit and vegetable plants separated by white picket fences.  Beneath a large bell, a plaque read "Help yourself but take only what you need, in consideration of others".

Celeste helped herself to a few apples and a couple of bell peppers.  She thought the pepper would spice up the salad she was planning for dinner tonight.  She'd been frugal when doing the grocery shopping.  As Celeste checked the plant for a ripe pepper, a dark haired man in a black suit strode past.  Silently Celeste admired him from her half-crouched position in the garden.  She mused that it had been some time since she'd dated.

Needing to get out of the midday sun, Celeste found a library.  It was dark and cool inside.  Like most libraries, it was also very quiet.  The tranquillity was shattered by the ringing of Celeste's phone.  It was her mother.
"Hi Mom." Celeste answered.  "I'm fine.  I can't really talk right now, I'm in the library.  Call you later, okay?"

Celeste knew her Mum would think she meant the library on campus.  She felt bad for the deception.  She just wasn't ready to share the radical decisions she'd made in recent weeks.  Nothing was quite the same and Celeste didn't know how she felt about it all herself yet.

Hungry and in need of a pick-me-up, Celeste was drawn to the sound of music coming from a large, open lot in the centre of town.  Some sort of festival was set up in the town square.  Celeste quickly found a snow-cone machine and scooped the shaved ice into a paper cup.

She sat down on the edge of a fountain and licked at her sticky creation.  It was wonderful.  Sometimes the simple things were best.  It was a nice day and Celeste began to relax again.

 

One of the big attractions of the festival was a roller skating rink.  Celeste handed over some change and hired some skates.  She used to love this as a girl.  It was trickier than she remembered and after a couple of close calls, she gave it up and returned the skates.

 

 

Appetite back for real, Celeste discovered a hot dog eating competition about to begin.  She volunteered herself as contestant.  Her opponents where all men and two of them looked to be brothers.

 



 

Celeste gave it a good try, but she didn't win.  She beat the skinny fellow next to her though.  And it was one way to get a free lunch.

 

That afternoon, Celeste had a water fight with a family called Bayless.  It was another activity that took her back to her childhood.  The neighbourhood kids had had some epic battles and Celeste had been fearless.  That was before her father left.  Distracted by her musings, Celeste lost track of her surroundings.  A large, wet "twack" bought her back to the present as a well aimed balloon hit her square on the chest.

As evening fell and it got dark, Celeste sat on a swing once more lost in thought.  It had been a good day.  She thought she liked it here in Twinbrook.  The house was more than a little shabby, but it was functional.  She had no job, but that wasn't going to change if she went home.  She could look for work here.  Tomorrow she would call her Mum and explain.  She would make her new beginning right here.  Smiling, she stood up and went to hail a cab to take her to her new home.





Chapter One: A Fixer Upper

Celeste checked the chipped numbers on the letterbox against the address stored in her phone. Unfortunately they both read 582, meaning the dilapidated box falling apart behind her was now her house. A college dropout, Celeste had two semesters of student loan but little to show for it. The photographs she'd seen showing 582 Bayou Gulch Drive must have been at least a decade old. They had shown a well-kept lawn, tidy brick exterior and freshly painted wooden fixtures. Desperate to have somewhere, other than her mother's, to live when she got kicked out of her dorm room Celeste had arranged the moving truck without thinking the situation through.

The grass was incredibly wild. The fog rolling in off the lake and the trees hid the sun, making the summer day dank and uninspired.  Indulging in a moment of self pity, Celeste put her face in her hands.  'How could I have been so stupid?' she asked herself  'How am I going to live here?!' Lifting her head back up, Celeste attempted to master herself. 'Maybe it wont be so bad inside' she thought. While a cynical, inner voice answered 'Yeah, right!' She inserted the key in the rusty lock, opened the faded and flaking door and stepped inside.

The main room housed an out-of-date sofa, rug and coffee table as well as a kitchen area with a dining bar. The appliances and bench tops were done in a mint green colour not popular since the 50s. A little cautious testing revealed the stove top to be at least semi-functional. Relieved, Celeste thought 'I should be able to eat anyway.'

The single bedroom was dark. The linen and mattress on the old brass bed smelled like they held years of dust. Deciding to tackle the problem of sleeping arrangements when her stuff arrived, Celeste moved on.

The bathroom was done in more green tones. The toilet was dirty. The sink was chipping. Celeste took one look at the bath (no shower) and shuddered. Gingerly she turned the tap in the sink. Thankfully, after a groan from the pipes and a brown trickle at first, the water cleared.

Lastly Celeste went down to the basement. She slowly descended the concrete steps, being careful not to touch the metal railings. As expected, by now, the basement was dirty and poorly lit. A washing machine and clothes dryer of at least equal vintage to the kitchen (and indeed the rest of the house) moulded quietly in one corner.

Tour done, Celeste sat on the edge of the ugly plaid seat (which matched the ugly plaid sofa) to consider her options. She had a roof and walls to (hopefully) keep out the weather. She had a bathroom (although that bathtub was going to be a problem), a kitchen (the ancient appliances even functioned) and a bedroom (though a bed frame like that squeaked if you so much as looked at it). NOTHING was as she'd expected. The advertisement had described it as a "fixer upper".  It mentioned the property was "a bit behind on maintenance".  Celeste snorted in disgust, the place felt like it hadn't been lived in for years (which it probably hadn't). Someone had made a brief effort to vacuum and get rid of the cobwebs and that was about all.

 

 Overwhelmed, Celeste stood up and moved rapidly towards the front door.  Not quite running, she crossed the yard in angry strides.  On the bridge that crossed the stream that ran behind the house, Celeste turned.  Looking back towards number 582, she wondered what the chances were of getting her bond back.  She'd had to sell her car.  Celeste imagined turning up at her mother's; on foot, worldly possessions in tow.  She'd have to explain not only why she dropped out of college, but why she was without transportation and jobless to boot.  At least in Twinbrook, there was significant distance between herself and her overbearing, oh-so-frequently-disapproving parent.

 

Feeling trapped between two unpleasant possibilities, Celeste wandered aimlessly.  Just this side of the bridge was the industrial part of town.  Celeste looked across at a junkyard, twin water towers and some sort of water treatment facility.  Not really a sight to lift her sagging spirits.  At least it was less foggy up here.  Remembering something from a time when she was younger, Celeste crossed the road and approached the junkyard.

Cautiously opening the gate, Celeste stepped in for a look around.  She tried (unsuccessfully) not to make comparisons between the squat building in the centre of the yard and the house she had left behind her.  Looking at the nearest pile of twisted metal, Celeste was lost in memory.  Grandpa had bought her somewhere like this when she was a little girl.  He used make sculptures and things from the junk people had thrown away.  He'd shown Celeste how to use a drill and a hammer.  Together they'd take old stuff and make something new.  Like a mailbox in the shape of a fish.  Maybe Celeste could fix up the old house, just maybe.  She could almost imagine Grandpa nodding encouragingly to her and smiled a bit at the thought.  Turning around, Celeste headed back down the small hill.  It wouldn't do to miss the truck with her gear.

It took a surprisingly short time to unload.  There wasn't much besides her modest wardrobe, a few art supplies and a toolbox.  The clothes went in the drawers in the bedroom.  A set of dishes went in the cupboards in the kitchen.  Wiping sweat off her face and listening to her stomach rumble, Celeste decided that what she needed was some supplies.  The telephone had a card attached with frequently called numbers, including one labelled "Yellow Cabs".  Wondering if it was still valid and if the old phone still worked, Celeste dialled.  To her surprise, a pleasant woman's voice answered.  Celeste ordered a taxi and was told it would be there in about ten minutes.

 

As the taxi made it's way to the other side of town Celeste watched the fare meter rise alarmingly fast.  Clearly if she was to stay in Twinbrook she would require her own transportation, and soon.

Thanking the driver as he dropped her outside the superette, Celeste looked around in appreciation.  Twinbrook was a small, wet town on the bayou but the buildings were bright with fresh paint, the residents smiling as they went about their business.  Celeste filled a basket with bread, milk, cereal and one of every cleaner on the shelf.  Frowning at the thought of the work that awaited her, Celeste elected not to stay in town long.

Hours later, Celeste filled the freshly scrubbed bathtub.  The oven had been the worst and the toilet positively scary.  She hadn't the courage to call either the landlord to complain about the state of the house, nor her mother to explain her new address.

In bed, about to turn off the lamp, Celeste's thought was; 'No car, no job, a rickety old house that no one else would want to live in.  Things must get better from here.'  She closed her eyes to dream of a better tomorrow.