THE BROOKLYN RAIL

Nest
by Jessica Treat
September 2004

The handle turned, and with a push, the door opened. The floorboards were bare under her feet, the room, empty—but for dust and cobwebs, the scurrying, almost transparent spiders. She found a bird nest in a corner, bits of plastic woven in with long pine needles and small twigs. There was nothing else but a wooden spool, its lavender thread nearly faded to gray. The bird nest felt light in her hand, fragile yet sturdy. Birds were expert builders. She realized in her hand she held another empty room.

There were stairs. She climbed them, found other rooms, small with low ceilings—as in so many old houses—large enough for a bed, maybe a four-poster, as if all they were ever designed for was sleeping. She felt vaguely guilty; she was acting as she had a young girl, searching, exploring, opening doors that were meant to remain closed. Her husband and child felt faraway; they were napping in the summerhouse they’d rented down the road.

Five rooms with doors facing the stairway. There was only one she hadn’t entered. She turned the handle but it wouldn’t open. She tried again. The door was locked. If only she could see in… but even the keyhole was too small to be looked through. She felt the top of the doorframe for a key; a layer of dust greeted her fingertips. Again she felt the barrenness of the house, its quiet stillness, of its being swept clean of secrets.

But for this one. Perhaps the locked door led nowhere. Perhaps what lay on the other side was another empty room, locked not to keep anything in or out, but only by accident. What lay on the other side would always be disappointing, would never be as she imagined: plush chairs covered with purple velvet, velvet drapes and scattered pillows. A wall of old photographs: a woman with beak-like nose, severe in her hair-bun, a child in falling down stockings and starched white dress standing in front of a rose bush. An orchard behind her, the smell of summer apples, a path leading to a house…a house just like this one.

She made her way down the stairs, closed the front door behind her. She walked quickly along the road, thinking of her husband and child, surely awake now. She looked down at the bird nest she still held, spool of thread nestled inside. The air smelled of apples.

Jessica Treat has published two books of stories, Not a Chance (FC2) and A Robber in the House (Coffee House Press). Her new stories are now online at Double Room and Outside Link.