Weeping Willows

Chapter 4

Invasion of the elderly kind

     Elizabeth rolled up her sleeves and widened her stance in preparation for the chaos that was shuffling her way. She kept mumbling to herself ‘you can do this’, and ‘what’s the worst that can happen’? Plastering on what her friends called a customer service smile she waited for everyone to take their seats. “Hello everyone. I’m Elizabeth Foster and I’m going to teach you some art.” If she thought she was going to get a warm greeting in return she was clearly mistaken. Huffing out a breath she began to show them what to do with the clay on their tables. She found that most of them were rather intrigued by the white malleable substance before them.

      “Why are we playing with kid’s toys?” One of the sisters asked while poking at her lump of clay in disgust.

     “While I know it doesn’t feel as stiff as regular art clay, I can assure you that that is what it is. I chose this since I wasn’t sure if any of you had issues with arthritis and it is easier to work with.”

      “Can I make teeth with this? I need a new set of chompers, mine just don’t fit right anymore?” The other sister asked eyeballing her clump with an assessing glare.

      “If this is good on arthritis do you think it could help my gout?” This came from the gentleman who had enjoyed harassing the woman with fuzzy slippers, who as it turns out, was now his table mate. He picked up his lump aiming for the floor while trying to kick off his shoe.

      Elizabeth rushed to his table to thwart his attempts gently guiding him back around to face the table. “It’s not that it helps with arthritis but won’t cause it to inflame instead. I’m fairly sure it would do nothing for your gout and would appreciate it if you did not put your feet in the clay Mr.?”

      “The name is Charles doll, but you can call me Charlie if you’d like.” He told her with a slow wink and a sly smile. “I wasn’t really going to throw it doll, but how else is a guy suppose to get your attention?”

‘Great, just great. I’ve got an elderly Lothario in my class.’ Elizabeth couldn’t help the eye roll that accompanied her thoughts but was soon distracted by his table mate adding her two cents in.

      “Don’t you lie to her Charles. Throwing mud like an ill-behaved child in a school yard is right up your alley. You just didn’t want to get caught.” She scolded him while pointing a bony wrinkly finger at him. Turning to Elizabeth the elder woman held out her hand in introduction. “I’m Fanny. Pay no notice to Charles here. He just likes attention.” Fanny gripped her hand in a firm brisk shake before turning back to her own clay in front of her. Charlie stuck his tongue out at Fanny for ruining his fun. When she scowled back at him, he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively causing her to mutter some not so quiet anatomically impossible threats at him.

     “You know this stuff already smells like feet are you sure that’s not what it’s for?” Elizabeth whipped around back towards the sisters ready to intercede any more thoughts of clay throwing. Much to her relief the woman was sniffing at her clay while still poking it in disgust. “This smell doesn’t stay on you does it. I don’t want to go around smelling like dirty socks.”

     “I can assure you the smell will wash off your hands just fine.” She tried to look as trustworthy as possible as she approached their table. The other sister was cutting away at her now rectangular shaped piece. Each time she cut some off she would measure it against her sunken lips only to put it back down and cut more away. Elizabeth placed her hand over her warm paper-thin skin gaining the woman’s attention. “While you could mold a set of teeth with this, they wouldn’t be strong enough to work as actual dentures.”

     “What would I do with a pair of teeth I can’t use. I already have a pair of those.”

     “You could always make something else to display on a shelf in your room. Use your imagination.” The comment caused the other sister to snort in reply.

     “Bertha only has an imagination when she’s three sheets in.”

      “Shut your hole Agnes.”

     “It’s not imagination but hallucinations.” Charlie helpfully added causing Agnes to burst out guffawing while slapping the table. Bertha scowled before going back to her project with determination. Walking away Elizabeth drifted to one of the other tables taking care to steer clear of Charlie and Fanny for now.

Coming up to the next table she noted the elderly man mashing and rolling his clay while giggling with glee. His eyes shone with happiness as he looked up at her. “Can I ask what your making?” Instead of answering Elizabeth, he laughed boisterously and went back to what he was doing.

     “Don’t mind Ralph dear. He’s never been quite right even as a child. He’s still a giddy little boy trapped in an aging body.” Slightly shocked at the woman’s words she turned to Ralph’s table mate only to find her looking at him with a fondness mothers reserved for their children. Elizabeth knew that wasn’t plausible since he was clearly a bit older than the woman.

      “My names Alice dear. I would take your hand, but I would hate to soil yours.” Elizabeth smiled at this but waved off Alice’s concerns. She would have asked her what she was making but the elderly woman was just mindlessly kneading her clay like one would a lump of bread dough. She was paying more attention to Ralph and giving him encouraging words every time he looked up to show her what he had made now. It was obvious to Elizabeth that Alice was a matronly type and honestly wouldn’t be surprised to find others she cared for as she did Ralph. She too found herself senselessly observing him in his sheer joy. Elizabeth was pulled from her musings by yet another commotion coming from the sister’s table. With a sigh she strode off to see what was wrong now.

     Once Agnes caught sight of her she waved her hand wildly at her sister while looking at her with pleading eyes. “Tell her she can’t make that! I refuse to have something that morbid in our room.”

Not understanding what Agnes was so upset about she approached Bertha to look at her project. To her surprise Elizabeth found herself staring at a rather detailed sculpture of a grave.

     “I can make anything I want. It’s my art piece not yours and I can put it in my room if I want!” Bertha huffed back at her sister making sure to emphasize what was her choice to make and what wasn’t. By stepping in between them Elizabeth prepared herself to ask what she knew she would regret.

     “Bertha, why did you decide to make a grave?”

Blinking up at her Bertha seemed slightly distracted at first. “It’s not a grave it’s my grave.”

     “Your grave?”

     “Yes”

     “You see! I don’t want that thing in the room, but she won’t listen to me!” Agnes yelled clearly in distress over having a model of her sisters final resting place sitting on a shelf. Not that Elizabeth could fault her. She herself would probably be uncomfortable if she was in Agnes’s place as well.

     “Okay, why are you making your grave?”

      “I can’t make new teeth so instead I’m making a model of how I want my resting place to look. Once I’m gone how will I be able to tell anyone if they do something I don’t want to be stuck with for eternity.” Elizabeth had to take a moment to think of something to say. Well she had plenty to point out that was so very wrong with what Bertha just said but she wasn’t going to criticize.

     “I’ll admit, that’s very creative…” Before she could say anymore Bertha interrupted while Agnes was looking at her as if she was a traitor to the cause.

     “It’s practical not creative. I like to make useful things not frilly silliness.”

     “That’s not practical its disgusting and I won’t have it any where near me.” Agnes interjected crossing her arms over her chest as if to stand her ground.

     As if in macabre fashion, Bertha slowly slid her eyes towards her sister as they narrowed into slits. An impish smile creeped across her face making Elizabeth worry. Suddenly Bertha scooped up her knife while yelling out, “fine I’ll design the grave I think is perfect for you!” With that She began jabbing the top repeatedly as if she was stabbing the inhabitant with in it. Agnes’s face became a dark red with her rage as she picked her own clay up mimicking her sister’s actions. Elizabeth made a distressed sound not knowing how to stop them or if she even should.

     She was startled out of her horror as a pair of large, warm hands gently squeezed her shoulders from behind. “Don’t mind my sisters too much. Things like this have been going on since we were children.” Elizabeth turned to face the man talking to her only to come face to face with the elderly man who had pushed in another resident in her wheelchair. She couldn’t quite believe that this kind man was related to the psycho twins behind her.

     “It’s just their way of showing each other that they care. Always has been.” On the heels of his words a clank rang out as one of the women had gone through her clay hitting the table beneath. The man cringed at the sound. Turning his attention back to Elizabeth he assured her they wouldn’t physically hurt the other. They would run out of energy before that. He guided her away from their table encouraging her to check on the others. He smiled at her as if humoring a small child as he turned back to his table. With another clanking sound accompanied by more yelling Elizabeth scrambled forward determined to put space between herself and the two women. While their brother had ensured they wouldn’t hurt each other he had made her no such promises. Out of self-preservation she walked briskly away towards the table furthest from the fight.

      As she approached, she noticed that the brightly dressed woman sat serenely gazing out the window at all the flowers outside instead of working with her clay. In fact, upon closer inspection she could see that the woman’s clay had yet to even be touched. Glancing over to her table mate, which turned out to be the man that had seemed unhappy to be here, Elizabeth found him deep in concentration. He was diligently working on his piece occasionally glancing up at the colorful woman then going back to work. Looking at the clay that he held in hands that resembled baseball gloves she was impressed to see a delicate flower. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it was beautiful just the same. She wouldn’t have guessed his hands capable of such dexterity. Elizabeth watched as he molded and coaxed the shape from the formless clay. The man had some skill.

     Clearing her throat Elizabeth drew the attention of his table mate away from the windows and the world beyond. She gave a little giggle as she realized she had been caught daydreaming. “Sorry, spring is my favorite time of year. I just love all the pretty flowers.” Elizabeth had expected the woman’s voice to be slightly shaky due to her years but found it soft and slightly melodic in tone.

     “Were you trying to think of something to make?”

     “Oh, heavens no! I wouldn’t want to get dirty.” Before Elizabeth could encourage the woman to give the activity a try, she put her elbows on the table propping her head in her palms. Sighing she watched her table mate work on his project in silence. With a wistful exhalation she motioned towards him gracefully while looking back at Elizabeth. 

     “If I was going to make anything, I would want it to be flowers. I’m not talented like Eddie though. If only I could do that.” She went back to thoughtfully observing her partner. Elizabeth noted that while he was trying to appear as if he wasn’t listening a light pink had stained his weathered cheeks. Without looking up he addressed them.

     “You just go back to doing what you were doing and pay me no mind Mabel. You’re fine just the way you are.” His last words were punctuated with a scowl in Elizabeth’s direction as if to dare her to defy him. The affect was ruined as his cheeks got a little redder under the watchful gaze of Mabel.

     “Don’t mind him he’s just sensitive.”

     “I am not.”

     Mabel just smiled her pretty smile at him causing Ed to renew his focus on his project. Elizabeth smiled a little as she realized this big giant of a man had tender feelings for his brightly colored acquaintance. Mabel cleared her throat drawing Elizabeth’s attention back to her.

     “Your new around here aren’t you? I mean not just the center here but, the town in general. Crystal Springs is a small place, and everyone knows everyone around here.”

     Nodding her head in agreement Elizabeth began to tell the woman the basics about herself. Nothing too personal or too painful. She just wasn’t ready to talk about that yet. As she gave them all a general biography of her life, she noticed the sounds from the sister’s fighting had finally stopped. It was clear she had everyone’s rapt attention as they listened intently. She finished her diatribe with moving into her house out by the reservoir. No sooner had the last words left her mouth that she was met with the sounds of sharp gasps from around the room. Looking around Elizabeth noted the looks of shock and horror on most of their faces.

     “What did I say?” She asked Mabel only to find the woman shaking like a leaf.

     “You moved into the haunted house?”

     “The what?” Elizabeth asked Charlie as she turned to face him as he spoke.

     “The local haunted house.”

     “It’s not haunted.” Elizabeth deadpanned back. She couldn’t believe him. Who would have guessed the class clown thinks there’s such things as ghosts.

     “Everyone in town knows the old Bennett place is terribly haunted. Has been since what was left of the family moved out.” This came from Agnes who was looking at her as if she had suddenly grown another head. Elizabeth moved to get closer to her so she could talk but Bertha threw up her hands making the motion to stop.

     “Not to be mean but could you stay away from us. If you brought one of the spirits with you without even knowing I would rather it not latch on to myself or my sister.” Elizabeth snorted with amusement finding the whole thing absurd.

     “If the house was haunted don’t you think I would have seen something? Nothing has happened since I moved in. It’s as quiet as a church.”

     “You’ll see.” Were her last words as she turned to Agnes and began having a hushed conversation with her. Elizabeth glanced around the room looking for anyone who thought this was as absurd as she did but found the opposite.

     For the rest of her class most of the residents treated her as if she was invisible. A few, like the sisters acted like she was diseased and had forbid her from coming to close to them. Elizabeth sat down in a chair watching as most of them whispered among themselves and sent her not so subtle glances. With a sigh she sunk down in her seat honestly wishing for an outburst from the sisters about now. This was shaping up to be one of those days.