Chapter 6 Alexandria
ALEXANDRIA
We started the tour in the laundry room.
I walked him in, “This is the washer and dryer. Speaking of which, I need to move a load over.” He watched with a befuddled look on his face as I lifted the lid on the washing machine, sniffed to make sure it hadn’t gone sour, but alas, it had. I held it out for him to sniff.
He screwed up his face.
“Och, it has turnt.”
I dug the dipper into the box of detergent, sprinkled it around on the clothes, slammed the lid, pushed a button, and turned the dial. The machine slowly started to whirr and chug.
Torin’s eyes went wide. “Tis washing?”
“Yes, it’s a miracle.”
He checked under, around, and behind. “Tis this rope comin’ from it?”
I leaned over and pointed. “This pipe draws water in, and yes, that rope is the electrical wire, it powers it. Hear it? It’s filling with water. Give it just one moment and it will begin to spin.” I tapped my fingers on the lid.
Meanwhile Dude walked in, rubbed on Torin’s legs, then sauntered into the self-cleaning litterbox that he never ever used. “Where are you going, Dude? You usually hate that thing.”
He completely ignored me and went in to do his business.
Torin asked, “Where is he goin’?”
“Into his litter box to um, poop.”
“The cat is goin’ tae shite in there?”
Torin crouched down and looked in. “Dude, ye are a time traveler and a brave lion, ye canna shite in the house. Tis nae seemly for a cat who lives with a princess, and who is goin’ tae clean it?
” He looked up. “Och nae, the princess is goin’ tae clean up after the cat?
Nae, Dude, ye must hae more honor than this. ”
Dude flicked sand behind him, then stepped, daintily out of the box. “Meow.”
Torin said, “Aye, I am tellin’ ye, ye canna make the princess clean up after ye — hae ye nae shame?”
I said, “In his defense, he never uses it, he goes outside. I think he might be showing off for you. But also, it’s a top-of-the-line magical litterbox that cleans itself. Watch.” We waited for a moment and then it started to turn, sifting through the poop, shaking it into the drawer below.
Torin screwed up his face. “Dude, what will the horses think on ye? They will think ye soft.”
I knelt down and pulled out the drawer. “There, it’s finished, I will change the bag in a bit.”
“Ye must hae a chambermaid, Princess, and we will need a footman tae wipe the arse of the cat.”
He leaned on the washing machine and when the drum turned and started to slosh the clothes he startled. “Och nae! What is it!”
“I told you it was going to wash the clothes.” I opened the lid and we both looked down at the clothes as they swished around. “This is a pretty old machine, I’ve had it my whole life.”
He said, “Och, it daena seem old at all. Nae compared tae me. And where I come from tis hardy lasses who wash our clothes. They hae arms as strong as any man’s from the toil.”
“Sounds like it’s hard.”
“Tis, but they roll up their sleeves, kilt their skirts above their knees, and laugh as they beat the linen against the stones. Max and I were wary about goin’ near the burn when we were lads, because their tongues were so scandalous, but when we were grown lads twas a certainty that one of them would kiss ye if ye wanted. ”
He grinned.
“This washing machine is not nearly as good a story. Want to go see the rest of the house?”
He followed me around the rest of the tour, fairly quiet, Dude shadowing us, weaving between our legs and occasionally rubbing against Torin’s calves.
I showed Torin the book shelves in my hobby room, shelves crammed with paperbacks and hardcovers, some spines cracked from years of reading, others still pristine.
He ran a careful finger along one row, pausing briefly at a battered copy of the Odyssey, tilting his head. “Tis yers?”
“My dad’s, have you read it?”
“I ken the story of Ulysses, aye. Max and I were told it at Glume. Tis one of m’favorites.”
Upstairs, I opened the doors to the guest rooms one by one: simple beds with white duvets, a few framed photos on the nightstands.
I was showing him how nice the rooms were, but he stepped inside each one, looking around as if he were measuring angles, noting exits, testing the floorboards for strength.
He had already seen the basement earlier, so I skipped it this time.
The whole tour had to have been overwhelming.
There was too much to show someone who was seeing a digital clock for the first time, and there was at least one glowing in every room.
He stayed close, interested, one hand occasionally brushing mine as we moved from room to room.
And then I took him up to the attic, which was a rare visit for me.
The narrow stairs creaked under our weight, the air growing cooler and dustier with every step.
It was chock full of boxes and chests and so many memories that it was hard to visit without a pang of melancholy, but I thought it would be a more comfortable part of the tour for Torin than what we were doing so far, where everything was too modern, too bright, and too difficult to explain.
I pulled the light string, turning the single bare bulb on.
Torin winced at the sudden glare.
“There are so many old things up here,” I said as we stepped into the low-ceilinged space. “I could spend hours showing you all of it, but…” I exhaled. “It makes me a little melancholy.” I tapped a stack of boxes. “Christmas decorations.” I tapped another. “Hobby supplies.”
I tapped another stack. “This stuff belongs to my uncle. I need to send it to him.” I grinned at Torin. “You’ll get to meet my uncle, that’ll be fun to explain! Hey Uncle Dylan, I got married since last time I talked to you. That will be a fun conversation.”
Torin moved around the packed space slowly, his eyes roaming over the labeled cardboard and wooden trunks. Dust motes drifted in the slanted light from the small dormer window.
Dude leapt onto a low chest and sat, tail curled neatly around his paws, watching us both as Torin said, “This place holds yer past.”
I nodded, throat tight. “Yeah. It does.”
His fingertips brushed through the dust of a large antique chest, its brass fittings tarnished green. “What is in the chest?”
“Ah, that’s why I brought you up. This is my hope chest. My grandmother gave it to me, and my mom and I put stuff into it, all for my wedding day, and here we are.”
I knelt in front of it and lifted the lid. The cedar scent rose all around us. “I love that smell.”
Torin sat down on a footstool beside me and asked, “What is inside?”
“Lots of keepsakes, I know I just said that it was all for my wedding day and made it seem like I would just cart it all downstairs and begin using it. But Torin, you must know, I am very sentimental and it’s far more likely that I will look through it and put it all back, it’s just too… dear to me.”
I pulled a small stack of linens from the pile.
And showed him the edges where ‘Sweet Dreams’ was embroidered and surrounded by flowers.
“My grandmother stitched these. I might use them.” I put them in my lap and pulled out another piece of fabric, an aged scrap of veil.
“This is from my grandmother’s wedding veil.
” I picked up a small stack of linen napkins tied with a ribbon.
“These were embroidered by my mother. And this…” I picked up a crocheted doily.
“Was made by my great grandmother, making it near a hundred years old.”
Then there were padded china boxes, one that held small dessert plates and one with tea cups. I unzipped them to show Torin.
“Och, they are verra fine.”
“Also, this one has crystal wine glasses.” I opened it and we peeked in. “I honestly should use this stuff, put it downstairs, but I can’t bear it. I have my grandmother’s china down there, but this is my great-grandmother’s, it’s even more precious.”
Then there were some wax papers, an envelope with pressed flowers and a ribbon that looked ancient and faded. “These came from my grandmother’s wedding bouquet.”
“Och, ye ought tae hae had flowers.”
“True, but that’s fine, it’s okay, our wedding was perfect.” I pulled out a few more pressed flowers from various moments, then a box full of roses. “These are dried flowers from my…” My voice staggered. “My parents’ funeral.” I tilted the lid to let him smell.
“Sometimes I think this might break my heart, but showing you helps. It will be nice to have someone to talk to about it.”
He said, “Ye want tae talk about it?”
“Nope.”
I took another deep breath. “We’re getting to the bottom now.
” There was a stack of recipe cards tied with a string.
One smudged with flour was for a wedding cake.
There were two framed photos, one of my parents on their wedding day, and one of my grandparents on theirs.
I showed them both to Torin. “This is a paintin’? ”
“It’s called a photo, an exact likeness taken on that day. I’ll show you, we’ll take a photo of ourselves. You’ll see.”
He was looking down on them.
I asked, “Do you think they look like me?”
He chewed his lip. “I daena see much likeness, but then I ken there wouldna be.”
“Yeah.” I took the photos and looked down on them. “My whole life I wondered why I didn’t look like them much.”
I took out the two books at the bottom of the chest, a Bible and a prayer book. They looked well-worn and from a long ago time.
“These belonged to my great-grandmother. The Bible is a family Bible. The prayerbook is in Latin, I can’t read it.”
I passed the books to him and he began thumbing through them.
Dude, seeing the pile of fabric, put out a tentative paw to climb on it. “Dude, no, this is vintage and there will be no cat butt on it.”
He gave me a look and pulled the paw back. Then he sat licking that paw as if I had hurt his feelings.
I looked down in the chest. “You know, one of the weird things is I remember the inside of this chest differently.”
Torin’s brow drew down. “Ye do?”