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Loretta listened carefully into the silence of the house, her family home. Thankfully there were no rodents who had made themselves at home within these four walls. Since her daddy supposedly left on a business trip for Mags Bennett endless weeks ago, the suffocating emptiness inside stemmed from more than simply the absence of residents. She hadn’t been here in quite a while but today of all days, it made sense to return. It became important to her, now that she felt all alone in the world.
Today was Halloween, and for the next few days the veil between worlds would be much thinner than at other times throughout the year − or so she had learned. El Día de los Muertos, the Day of the Dead. She didn’t know all that much about the rituals involved, or the holiday in general for that matter, but surely, it was the thought that counts, right?
Earlier in the afternoon, Loretta had carved a spooky grimace into the Halloween pumpkin from the store at Mags’ insistence, although she wasn’t in the mood for celebrating anything really with the Bennetts. Yet, she always felt the need to tread on egg shells with the matriarch of the house, who pretended to be nice enough but had a dangerous vibe to her. You didn’t cross Mags Bennett! Doyle was a know-it-all ass, Dickie an unnerving and annoying creep, and Coover… well, he freaked her out, honestly.
Therefore, Loretta was grateful for the excuse of going trick-or-treating to get out of their house after dinner. Mags could dote on her grand kids for a while, thank you very much. A guy she barely knew from school had driven her over to her father’s house when she ran into him on the darkening road, and she had sworn him to silence before he left.
At last alone, she set to her task as best she knew how to, picking her mom’s favorite table cloth from the drawer in the living room. The silky light red one that was hidden underneath the other, checkered sturdy ones for everyday use. She had already moved the side table from her daddy’s ancient lounge chair over to the wall so she could drape the table cloth over it now. It slid smoothly through her fingers and covered the beer-stained wooden surface. With a critical eye Loretta corrected the fit until she was satisfied with how the soft fabric flowed down to the floor. There was no time for vacuuming but it should do.
The kitchen was next. The faucet sputtered a scant few droplets at first but as they say, the third time was the charm, and it ran freely again at last. She left the water from the faucet to run for a while; after all it had been stagnant in the pipes for weeks on end by now, and she wasn’t keen on lead poisoning − or legionella. Watching in fascination how the liquid, first ugly brown-ish then clearing up slowly, circled the drain in the kitchen sink, made her think inadvertently of how folk’s lives were swirling around their randomly given location, kept in motion by the events and people around them.
She returned to the living room and searched through the lower cabinets for some candles. The only ones Loretta could find were sandy white. Usually the color scheme for the holiday was supposed to be yellow and orange because apparently, it was understood by those who believed in this kind of thing, that the dead could see those colors best. It wouldn’t matter much, she decided in the end and picked two of them up. Two saucers served as make-shift candle sticks as she wasn’t planning on burning the house down any time soon. The thick candles, one for her mom and one for her daddy, found their place on either side of the table. She would light them later.
The water in the kitchen was running entirely clear when she made her way back to the sink. Still, before filling the tank, she picked a filter from the drawer and prepared the coffee maker with coffee powder from the hand-colored seal-able canister her granny had given her parents for their wedding, as the story went. She supposed it was her’s now, along with everything else around here.
At the last second, she changed her mind and pulled the coffee filter out again in order to allow water to run solo through the machine first. Better safe than sorry. While the coffee maker spluttered to life after such a long time idling on the counter, Loretta fetched an intricately styled vase from beneath the kitchen sink, where they were stored right next the trash can. She gave the glass a short polish with the dish rag, then added water and carried it over to the table in the adjacent room.
Loretta went outside with a flash light to loot her mom’s beloved flower bed, which surprisingly still sported some beautiful orange roses between copious amounts of late-blooming dandelions. The latter might be a weed but they were yellow and nice enough to look at; they would serve their purpose, too.
By the time she had arranged everything to her liking in the vase, the coffee maker was finished with the water cycle and she set the machine up again with the coffee powder. In the meantime, she fished a small bag of weed out of her back pocket. Incense might be the customary choice for the Day of the Dead but for her, weed was way easier to come by. Loretta smiled cheekily; this would mark the very first occasion she used some for herself, considering she wasn’t usually partaking of her merch.
She dug a wooden skeleton she had crafted at school from her backpack, along with a small restaurant pack of sugar she had grabbed from the cafeteria this morning. A wrapped parcel revealed three slices of bread with a spread of peanut butter, courtesy of the Bennett’s breakfast. Then a few Halloween candies made their appearance from the rucksack’s front pocket − never let it be said, she didn’t go trick-or-treating − and at last, a can of Natty Lights for her dad. For a girl as resourceful as Loretta, getting cheap beer had only posed a minor challenge. All those items went to the side table as well, where she arranged them carefully, more due to a lack of space than artistry.
When the coffee maker eventually presented its dark, homey-smelling beverage, she placed the pot among the offerings for her mom. And if Loretta drank a cup of it as soon as the brew was done, she was merely tasting it beforehand to make sure her mom would like it. Cup in hand, she heaved a deep sigh and walked hesitantly to her parents’ bedroom to pick up their wedding picture. It was the last thing she could think of to use, and held by far the most emotional memories. Thus, it was no surprise Loretta’s hands shook as she placed it reverently on the side table.
Taking in her accomplishment, she fiddled with the table cloth for one final time. She would never be happy about remembering her parents among the dead but she was kind of satisfied with the way her daddy’s side table looked now; it truly came along nicely as an impromptu altar. At this point, she couldn’t ask for more.
The End