Rotted Boards

The sun is just dipping behind the winter-bared trees when Mae Ella pulls past the driveway’s gate. It’s Sunday afternoon and she just finished visiting Daddy at the cemetery and stopping at the Bent n’ Dent. She leaves the truck running and hops out to padlock the gate behind her before parking in front of the house. It’s not much, really. A rectangle of pinkish-red bricks with a half-rotted oak ramp to the front door. Daddy hadn’t treated the boards before he built it. Mama got sick so fast he didn’t have time before she came home in a wheelchair. That was nearly ten years ago. Mae Ella kept telling herself she’d ask one of the Arnold boys down the road to rebuild it, but she couldn’t bring herself to knock on their door. She’s careful not to stab her hand on the nail poking through the railing as she lugs her plastic grocery bags inside. The lights are all off. She exhales a deep breath, plops the bags on the kitchen counter, and flips the light switch. She talks herself through her plans for the evening and the weekend as she slides a half gallon of milk in the fridge and a box of fish sticks in the freezer. Once it’s all put away, she balls the plastic bags and drops them in a little tub under the sink. She’ll use them as trash bags for the little can in the bathroom. Her back bedroom is chilly when she goes to change into her sweatpants. There’s a jack and jill closet that connects to the room across the hall. It used to be Liza’s room. Mae Ella used to sneak through the closet into Liza’s room after bedtime, the two sisters staying up late into the night. They were close back then.

They were close until Mama died. Two weeks after the funeral, Liza told Daddy they should move. She kept saying it would be like starting over, and it would be good for everyone. Mae Ella knew Liza just wanted to move somewhere bigger, though. Liza was eighteen and kept talking about beauty school. She wanted to move somewhere that she could get into one and be a hairdresser like Auntie Ivy. Mae Ella wasn’t worried at first. Daddy told Liza he had no intentions of moving anywhere. This was home. This was the house Mama wanted. He’d bought this land, and he and his brothers had built Mama’s dream house from the concrete foundation up. But the longer Liza pestered Daddy, the slower he said no. One night, he didn’t even respond. He just got up and went to his bed. Liza was getting to him. That was the same night Liza and Mae Ella fought. Mae Ella stood in front of Liza as she sat on the couch and told her she didn’t deserve to live in Mama’s house anymore. If she was too proud to grow up here in the little town of Donnell, then she should pack up her things and go. And that’s exactly what Liza did. She called Auntie Ivy to pick her up, threw all her things in a trash bag, and was gone before the sun rose the next day. She never came back. Apart from one phone call when Daddy passed four years ago, Mae Ella hadn’t heard from her sister at all.

Mae Ella waves the memory off and pads barefoot back to the living room. She stops to peek out the big window that overlooks the little field on the south side of the property. The playhouse Daddy built her still stands in the tall grasses. It leans a hair to the left, though. She closes the heavy, dark green curtains. Shimmery, embossed pinecones catch the light. Mae Ella thinks they’re ugly. She figures one day she’ll stop at the Walmart two towns over and buy something a little brighter. Something tan or maybe even a pale shade of yellow. A semi-truck speeds by on the highway, leaving a trail of diesel smoke hanging in the air. Mae Ella crosses to the kitchen and grabs the box of fish sticks. She arranges about ten on a pizza pan. Once they’re in the oven, she picks up her mail and sifts through it. There’s nothing but credit card offers, so she tosses it in the trash can. Her phone rings. It’s not a number she knows. Normally, she wouldn’t answer, but this time she taps the green icon.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end of the line is tight, like there isn’t enough air to push the word out.

“Who is this?” Mae Ella asks. She’s met with silence. She’s just about to hang up when the person sucks in a hitched breath.

“It’s your sister. It’s Liza.”

The hand at Mae Ella’s side trembles.

“Why are you calling me?”

“I’m in town. In Donnell. I wanted to. No, we wanted to see you.”

Mae Ella hangs up the phone and flings it onto the kitchen table. She suddenly remembers her fish sticks and pulls them from the oven. She plates them, plopping into her recliner and staring at the curtains on the window. They’re really just hideous. Liza picked them out when they were kids. Mama said she could pick the curtains as long as Mae Ella could pick the throw pillows for the couch. Mae Ella still doesn’t understand what could possess someone to choose those God-awful things. She munches on her dinner, cursing the fact she hadn’t gotten new ones yet. She drops her plate on the coffee table and stomps across the living room. She grabs hold of the right curtain and yanks as hard as she can. The whole rod comes down with it. Outside, movement in the driveway catches her eye. A silver car sits at the gate. The driver door opens, and a woman climbs out. She crosses her arms and glances around. Her auburn hair is tied up in a high ponytail. Mae Ella recognizes her. Sure, her hips are a bit fuller and eyes tired, but that’s Liza. The left rear door of the car flies open, and two girls about six scramble out. Twins. Mae Ella stares at them. They look just like Liza at that age. Liza shakes her head, propping her foot up on the first rung of the gate. She hoists herself over it, landing on her feet in the dirt. She turns and starts gesturing at the twins. Mae Ella imagines she’s telling them to crawl through the space between the rungs. A minute later, she’s proven right. The three walk briskly toward the house, and Liza spots Mae Ella in the window. Mae Ella groans and goes to open the door. Her sister is just walking up the ramp.

“How long has this been so rotten?”

Mae Ella shrugs.

“A few years, I guess.”

“You’re gonna kill yourself on this damn thing, Sissy.”

“Been meaning to ask one of the Arnold boys to fix it, but I…” She lets her voice trail off.

“Might as well just tear it off and use the old stone steps.” Liza’s in front of her now, hands on her hips. “It’ll be easier.”

The twins stop just behind their mother, eyes locked on Mae Ella.

“You may as well come inside,” she sighs as she steps back. “Do you girls like fish sticks?” She’s already in the kitchen again, dumping the box onto the pizza pan and pre-heating

the oven.

“Why are my curtains on the floor!?” Liza shouts.

Mae Ella half-heartedly calls out that the rod must have slipped or something, because the house is so old. Liza seats herself in the center of the couch. She looks over when Mae Ella walks back into the room and sits next to her. They lean on each other, Mae Ella’s head on Liza’s shoulder. Outside, darkness has settled in, prompting the yard light to blanket the field in an orange hue. In the shadows, Mae Ella’s playhouse doesn’t seem to be leaning at all.