The Writer’s Corner features poetry, essays, short stories, satire and various fiction and non-fiction from SCAD Atlanta students. To submit your own work for the Writer’s Corner, email features@scadconnector.com.
‘The Apology’ by Isa Rhein
“There is blood on my closet carpet. It sits there, soaked into the roots of the fibers. It sits there even with the smell of bleach in my nostrils. It sits under a faded pink rug that used to be in my old bedroom. The blood on my carpet will be there even if we sell the house.”
****
“Honey, have you seen this kitchen? The granite counters must have cost a fortune. I can’t believe we got this house” Ginger says. She slides her hand across the countertop. It is cool and comforting. A flea-market film camera bumps against her chest. She remembers her old place, the place she rented with the scraps she saved out of college. It was so disappointing that a four-year education only set her up for a job in a stuffy pizza place. She tells herself that she deserves this nice house, even if the bulk of it was paid for by her wife. She tries to tell herself that she will not feel bad about this.
“Yes, I know it is beautiful. I just can’t believe the realtor gave it up for this low. I mean, look at these faucets, they are gorgeous,” Ava’s gaze bounces from one thing to another. “Come on, let’s look at the upstairs again. I want to plan out where the movers will put the bed.” Ginger’s fingers click with urgency on the camera pulling at her neck. Ava smiles at her wife’s contorted body that is trying to capture something only she can see.
Ginger met Ava at the pizza place, she was the only good thing that came from that minimum wage job. The pizza parlor let Ginger hang up a few of her photographs in the grimy hall that led to the bathrooms. Her work was next to a sign that urged employees to remember to
wash their hands. The black and white photographs were the reason Ava came every week, and Ginger was her reason to stay. Somewhere between clearing tables and taking orders, they fell in love. With the right encouragement, Ginger finally quit the pizza place to chase her dream as a photographer. Ava proposed. With a silver band on her finger, Ginger started photographing colorful things.
The master bedroom has large windows on one side that project a blinding light onto the bare shag carpet. The room is empty but Ginger can already imagine the walls filled with photographs. She can picture all of the lazy mornings lying next to Ava and coffee on the table beside her. Ginger took a photograph of the light on the carpet.
“Ava, did you realize this is a walk-in closet? What a score!” Ginger sticks her head inside the door at the far end of the room. It is also covered in shag carpet and lined with shelves. It is small for a walk-in closet, but it’s bigger than anything she had. She knows it has to hold both of their clothing but she isn’t worried. Ginger doesn’t have that much to put in the closet anyway. Ginger picks up her camera and pans it around the closet. She looks for something beautiful and snaps a photo of the stream of light that waterfalls down the shelf.
She sees something that looks like writing on the wall and lowers her camera “Ava, come here and look at this.” Ava walks in the closet where Ginger is kneeling. “Doesn’t that look like ‘I’m sorry’?”
Ava leans in closer to what Ginger is pointing to. The peeling, cream colored wall is in need of a new coat of paint. The words “I’m sorry” were etched deep into the drywall. The words are mostly just scratches, but pencil from another lifetime remains on the ends of the letters. The words are not quite gone. Eraser bits were embedded into the fibers of the carpet.
Ava touches the grooves of The Apology“This is so strange. Do you think the last owners wrote this? What do you think happened?” Ginger doesn’t respond, she picks up her camera and takes a picture.
It isn’t until the bed and coffee table are moved in that Ginger notices the discoloration of the carpet below The Apology. The stain is clear in the newly printed pile of photographs that sit on her lap. Ginger bolts up and crawls on the closet floor searching for the stain. It’s there like a dried up puddle. She stares at it, coming back to the stain every time she is in the room. She looks at it while she changes for work every morning, at a low level position at a photography studio. She looks at it as she gets ready for bed. The blob is barely noticeable but Ginger can see it more with every glance. She can’t help but stay awake at night, thinking about how the stain got there. Was it wine? Was it paint? She couldn’t bring herself to question if it was blood.
Ginger agonizes about telling Ava about the stain. Does Ava have to know? Ginger feels protective over the crumbling drywall and eraser bits. She feels connected to it, to whoever put it there. The Apology, the stain, they both needed to be there. Ava would want to make it perfect, but this closet could never be perfect after whatever happened here. Ginger puts a shoe box over the stain. She doesn’t vacuum the eraser bits. She leaves them in the crack between the carpet and the wall.
Ginger tells herself that she will bring up the stain to Ava. She tells herself that they will laugh about the mysterious stain and ghost writing. She fights with herself to understand why she can’t laugh about it. It’s Ava who brings it up. She picks up the same photograph that Ginger was facinated with and asks her wife about it. Ginger has no reason not to show Ava, but she still tries to find one. The stain is not a secret anymore; Ginger isn’t laughing like she hoped.
Ginger comes home like any other day and walks directly into the closet. It is a habit to feel the scratches on the wall. She needs to feel the wall and ponder what caused someone the pain to write those words. Her mind is consumed with the faded outline of a stain on the carpet. At night while Ava sleeps, she searches for answers. She types in the address, the names of the previous owners, the neighborhood, anything that could explain what happened. Useless things like realtor advertisements and school district announcements come in hundreds, each is more unhelpful than the last.
Ava rolls over to Ginger’s face under the spotlight of her laptop. “Babe, what are you doing?”
Ginger shuts the laptop “Nothing, nothing.”
Ava sits up, she knows her wife too well to ignore the furrowed brow and tense posture, “Please talk to me. There is something on your mind, you have been distant. Where is your head?” She reaches over to hold the hand that is gripping the laptop, “Is it me? Have I done something to keep you up at night?”
Ginger’s expression softens, “No, my love it’s not you. Never think that. You are my world, you know that.” She releases the laptop and leans on Ava.
“Then what is it?” Ava asks.
Ginger has a sick, twisted feeling of guilt. The stain isn’t hers but she feels a relentless fascination towards it. She chews on the inside of her cheek, not being able to bring herself to admit her connection to it, “Its stupid. I don’t want to worry you over nothing.”
Ava’s concern grows, “If it’s bothering you it’s not stupid. Please talk to me, I want to help you.”
A few minutes pass and Ginger stays silent. A debate is rattling in her head. Ava reaches for her other hand, the knuckles are white from clenching her fist. Ginger looks at her hands that are embraced by her wife’s, “I can’t stop thinking about the closet. It’s all I can think about. I just want to know what happened so badly.”
Ava shakes her head, “Babe, I don’t understand; we talked about this. You said that it wasn’t that noticeable. I told you I would cover it if you wanted that.”
Ginger slips her hand back into her lap. She knew this would happen. How could she be so stupid, she knew Ava wouldn’t understand. Her voice raises, “Something happened. I need to know. Something happened in there. I don’t want to erase it. I can’t stop thinking about what pain happened in there.”
“Ginger you need to stop, you are obsessed with this closet,” Ava pleads, “It’s not healthy. It’s affecting your work. You only take photos of the closet.”
Ginger places her laptop on the table beside her and rolls so her back is facing Ava, “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’m tired.” The silence is harsh, Ava lays back in bed.
When Ginger arrives home from work the next day the house smells like paint and bleach. The closet has a coat of fresh paint, it’s thick and the outlines of The Apology are buried under what seems like a million layers. The dark ring is a pristine white. The closet looks too perfect, too clean, too forgotten.
