Ginny's Closet

INTRODUCTION

A Suburb of Philadelphia, 1991

Daphne hadn’t planned to stop here. She’d been in the area shopping for books, particularly art books.  She’d even found one special treasure, a book about the works of her favorite artist, the French painter, Toulouse Lautrec. She’d loved his strange, expressive paintings since she was a little girl and when she spotted the book on the store shelf, she snapped it up. As she was leaving the store parking lot, Daphne thought of her grandparent’s old house.  It was only a few miles from the bookstore, and in an impulsive moment she decided to see if it was still there.

Not wanting the owners to think that she was casing the home for a robbery, Daphne parked on the other side of the road and a few houses back.  It had been many years since she’d been here, but the home didn’t look all that different.  The owners had obviously taken care of it.  The wide clapboards were still dark brown, and the large front porch was as inviting as ever.  There was one addition, a swimming pool occupied the side yard where her grandfather once chopped down a stately evergreen years before.  It was the ultimate sacrifice in a war Grandpa waged for years with the gray squirrels.  He loved to watch the birds at the feeder under the evergreen, but the voracious squirrels constantly interrupted his past time.  The little eating machines used the tree as a springboard to the feeder, their acrobatic feats giving them access to an unlimited free breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  Daphne enjoyed watching the squirrels, as well as the birds, but Grandpa didn’t see it that way.  The squirrels were a mortal enemy, and he was on a quest.  In the end, the tree went, but the squirrels didn’t.

I loved that house, a cousin said at a family gathering years later, and Daphne felt the same way.  It was really just an ordinary two story home, but something about it made it, well....magic.  The house was converted, at some point in its life, into an upstairs and downstairs apartment but her grandparents didn’t use it that way.  The downstairs consisted of a large living room, kitchen, bathroom, dining room, TV room, and breakfast room. A beautiful stairway leading to the second floor was made of wood so polished that great care was needed to avoid slipping and taking a fall.  Daphne’s grandparents used the upstairs living room kitchen combination as an enormous bedroom.  There was a large upstairs bathroom and two more bedrooms that once belonged to her mother’s two youngest siblings.

Part of what made the house special was Grandmother’s interesting decorating taste.  There were two chairs in the living room that looked as if they belonged in a gothic church.  The sofa was from a 19th century English country home and a spinning wheel with a large wooden spindle graced a corner as if waiting for Sleeping Beauty to accidentally prick her finger and fall into a deep sleep.  There were oriental dishes and vases, porcelain bowls and figurines of all descriptions. There was even the stone head of an ancient Buddah cut from a Southeast Asian temple presiding over the room.  A bucolic scene of cows penned in by a split rail fence hung on the wall, and on a wooden shelf nearby, a small table clock rang out the Westminster chimes every fifteen minutes.

To a child growing up, it was a place that was at the same time magical and just a little foreboding.  There were the firm warnings not to touch things.  And there was the presence of Grandmother herself.  Her small, stooped frame masked a will of iron, a steel eye, and a heart of gold, but she guarded her collection of treasures from her rambunctious grandchildren like a secret service agent protecting the President.

Daphne wondered if the inside of the house retained as much of its original character as the outside.  Should she go over, ring the doorbell, and introduce herself?  Maybe they would invite her in to look around.  Did she really want to do that?  Or did she just want to remember it the way it was?

PART ONE

A Suburb of Philadelphia, 1962

Daphne looked like an average eight year old girl.  When adults asked how old she was she told them and they always said, Yes, you look like you’re eight years old.

She never knew what that meant.  What was eight supposed to look like?  Did all eight - year olds have light brown hair like hers? Did they have a splash of freckles across their cheeks and nose? Were they on the thin side, to the point of being called chicken legs, her brother Gary’s favorite nickname for her?   The condition definitely wasn’t caused by lack of eating, Daphne loved to eat.  As a matter of fact, it was one of the things she loved best.  Food just didn’t seem to stick to her.

Her older sister, Kay, was always asking about her hollow leg.

You know the one that you keep trying to fill with all that food!

She usually responded by crossing her blue eyes, making a face at her siblings and reaching for seconds.  Adults said other things about her, too.  One was that she was independent for her age, and she wasn’t quite sure what they meant by that either.  She asked her sister about it once.

Kay just shrugged and replied, They probably mean they can never find you when they want you. 

Another thing adults commented on was her sense of humor.  She could usually see the funny side of life, and it was obvious by the things she said. She had a cheerful personality, liked to make people laugh, didn’t let things bother her too much, and loved to visit her grandparents. 

Daphne and Kay always stayed together in Ginny’s room at their grandparent’s house.  She loved Ginny’s bedroom because it had the same magic feeling as the rest of the house.  The room was light and airy with a double bed, a large dresser and vanity, and white shear curtains covering the windows. When the shades were raised, giant sycamore trees were visible outside, and every once in a while a seed ball would fall and patter across the roof.  Yes, the room was light and friendly in almost every way; except for the closet.  To Daphne it just looked well.... a little.... different.  There was that weird poster on the closet door, a picture of a strange girl named Jane.  Her hair was red and she wore a red dress with a white petticoat and black stockings.  She was drawn in a slightly grotesque way, kicking up her heels on stage and doing a wild dance accompanied by an almost demonic looking man playing a bass violin.  When Daphne was really little, the poster scared her.  She would peek at it before her mother turned the light out at bedtime and hide under the covers next to her sister until she fell asleep. Now a few years later, the odd poster was much less scary but still odd enough to keep both Daphne and Kay from opening the closet door.  After all, the girls thought, if it was this strange on the outside what might be lurking on the inside?

But Daphne loved the room in spite of the closet mostly because it was Ginny’s.  Ginny was her mother’s youngest sister.  She and her brother Andy were much younger than Daphne’s mother. It was almost as if her grandparents raised two separate families of children.  To Daphne, Ginny and Andy felt more like older cousins than an aunt and uncle.   In fact, Ginny was her absolute favorite aunt in the whole world. 

Ginny had dark hair, blue eyes, a ready smile, and was just about as much fun to be around as a person could be.  She was active and busy but she always made time for Daphne and her siblings. There were sing-a-longs around campfires while Uncle Andy played the guitar, sledding competitions down the treacherous icy hill near her grandparent’s house, trips to amusement parks, ball games, and any number of other fun activities.  Ginny was smart, pretty, and usually had a boyfriend who was willing to tolerate her young nieces and nephews. For Daphne, being able to spend time with Ginny was the most wonderful thing about visiting her grandparents.

The holidays and other visits with the family were always fun, but of course, the years passed and everyone got older.  Ginny finished college and on one of Daphne’s spring holiday visits, she announced that she was going to Paris.   The whole family was very excited for her and asked a continuous stream of questions about her plans.  She talked to everyone eagerly, the happiness over her upcoming trip plainly showing on her face.  Daphne was caught up in the excitement as well.  She didn’t know where Paris was or anything about it but thought it must be wonderful for the