I\u2019m not the hoarder, Granny Keeper is. I\u2019m just the finder.<\/p>\n
\tI found her the day I lost everything. My boyfriend, my wallet, my job. I had no idea where the boyfriend or the wallet went, I just knew they weren\u2019t there when I woke up. Will\u2019s stuff was all gone, from his Xbox to his nose hair trimmer, so at least I knew he wasn\u2019t kidnapped. <\/p>\n
\tMaybe my wallet was, though.<\/p>\n
\tOn the other hand, Trisha the manager was crystal clear on why I lost my job. You\u2019re supposed to write the customer\u2019s first name on the ticket, not bitter identifiers. Codependent Hipsters. Sugar Daddy and the Sidepiece. Short-Term Engagement. <\/p>\n
\tAt an aggressively cheerful chain restaurant like mine, such shenanigans are the kiss of death. Termination effective immediately. Absolutely bone-chilling terminology, I would have preferred to be released.<\/p>\n
\tShe was sitting at the kitchen table in the dark when I got home. I flipped on the lights and there she was, complacently knitting a bright red scarf. She later gifted it to me as a memento of our first meeting, and I love it now, but at the time it was garish and eerie. I mean, who knits in the dark in other people\u2019s kitchens? Usually psychos, I\u2019m guessing.<\/p>\n
\tI didn\u2019t say anything at first, I just watched her. She was round and soft and friendly looking, like Queen Elizabeth\u2019s approachable twin, and she hummed That\u2019s Amore to the click of the needles. I thought maybe she had wandered off from her family, and I tried to recall the faces of the missing people I had seen posted at Wal-Mart. She didn\u2019t look familiar.<\/p>\n
\tAt first, the humming and knitting was kind of nice. Soothing. But then it started making me nervous again. Needles and all. \u201cHi,\u201d I said, and waved, which was kind of awkward since I was only two feet away.\t<\/p>\n
\t\u201cHello.\u201d She laid her knitting down in her lap and folded her hands. \u201cHow was work today, dear?\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cWell, I got fired.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tShe clucked her tongue at me, a disapproving mother hen. \u201cWell, now, that\u2019s too bad.\u201d She patted the chair next to her, and I slid into it. <\/p>\n
\tShe invited me to sit in my own chair. <\/p>\n
\t\u201cDo you want to talk about it?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cNot really.\u201d I shrugged. \u201cBut we should probably talk about what you\u2019re doing here.\u201d <\/p>\n
That was important to get out in the open.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cWhy, I\u2019m from Craig\u2019s List.\u201d Wispy grey eyebrows, aged rainbows of surprise, soared into the delicate lines of her forehead.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cCraig\u2019s List?\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cYour new roommate?\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cMy new roommate?\u201d Echolalia, the long banished, obnoxious childhood habit was bubbling up. Ms. Jess, my poor speech teacher had worked so hard to break me of it. In her honor, I bit my tongue (literally, front teeth vivisecting quite a few taste buds) and forced myself to listen, without interjecting, while my elderly trespasser explained herself.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cYour ad.\u201d She spoke the words deliberately and slowly, as if to a very small child or crazy person, which wasn\u2019t really fair, considering the circumstances. \u201cI\u2019m taking the extra room. We\u2019ll split rent and utilities right down the middle, but from the looks of you I imagine I\u2019ll be taking over groceries. You\u2019re skin and bones.\u201d She dug around in an enormous patchwork bag, and pulled out a package of Fig Newtons from beneath a tangled web of multicolored yarn. \u201cPlease, have some,\u201d she said, brandishing them at me.<\/p>\n
\tDismissing an irrational fear of being fattened up for Baba Yaga\u2019s oven, I took one and chewed on it thoughtfully. I guess it was nice of Will to put an ad on Craig\u2019s List for a new roomie. It would have been nicer if he had just told me he was leaving. Or nicer still if he\u2019d just stuck around. <\/p>\n
\tOn second thought, a Craig\u2019s List ad is a pretty crappy farewell gesture.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cSo, how come you were sitting here in the dark?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\t \u201cDon\u2019t talk with your mouthful, dear. No one needs to see that,\u201d she admonished primly before answering my question. \u201cIt would have been rude to barge in here and turn on all the lights as if I owned the place.\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cRight,\u201d I said, making sure I swallowed every last crumb first. \u201cWhat\u2019s your name?\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cYou can call me Granny Keeper.\u201d She resumed knitting and humming.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cI\u2019m Bree.\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cI know, dear.\u201d She patted my hand. \u201cIt was in the ad.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tGranny Keeper was flipping pancakes when I came downstairs the next morning. Like, literally flipping them. A procession of them soared from the spatula, stopped just inches from ceiling and spun, hurtling back to their blistering doom.<\/p>\n
\tI hadn\u2019t eaten breakfast in five years, but that was all about to change.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cI need something blue,\u201d she said, handing me a plate.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cSomething blue?\u201d I repeated. Gah. I bit my tongue, gathered a thought, and tried again. \u201cWhat do you need?\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cI\u2019m not sure yet. It\u2019s just so empty in here. We need something blue. After you eat, you can run out and get me some things. And then I\u2019ll see which one I want.\u201d She unclasped a dainty beaded coin purse and pulled out a crispy new fifty dollar bill. \u201cGet as many as you can.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tI don\u2019t know what was in those pancakes, but I said yes.
\n<\/p>\n
\tAt first, I planned on going to Goodwill, but Granny Keeper had said to get as many blue things as possible, so I kept driving. A couple of twists and turns behind the Goodwill is the junk shop. It doesn\u2019t have a proper name. It\u2019s not \u201cThe Junk Shop\u201d or anything. It\u2019s just a big room overflowing with crap, like an above ground basement or a floor level attic. It\u2019s mostly Goodwill rejects, but sometimes you can make a really special discovery. Once I found this amazing Christmas wreath, a little smelly and dusty, but totally festive.<\/p>\n
\tAnd anyway, you pay for stuff by the pound at the junk shop. So I could get a ton of blue things. <\/p>\n
\tI slid a cracked plastic shopping basket up my arm, dangling it from my inner elbow like a designer bag. An azure tea cup capped a pyramid of broken and mismatched plates, its chipped glory beckoning me with its blueness. Old ladies like tea, right? Especially old ladies that call everybody dear and make pancakes. I grabbed it quickly, as if somebody else was actually contemplating this fine bit of pottery, and nestled it into the corner of my basket. <\/p>\n
\tI poked around in the bins, gathering more items, until my basket was full. I organized them in a neat little spectrum of blues, from the deep navy sock on the left all the way up to a powder blue onesie on the right. I was reaching for a bright cobalt bandanna I had spotted beneath a rusty teapot, when I heard a voice behind me. <\/p>\n
\t\u201cYou entering a blue period?\u201d This guy asked, arching an eyebrow. I\u2019ll bet he does that a lot and people think it\u2019s cute. I silently blessed Granny Keeper for making me brush my hair and put on lip gloss before I left. And change into a clean shirt. And put on deodorant. <\/p>\n
\t\u201cA blue period?\u201d I echoed, stalling until more words tumbled out. \u201cNo, not really. I mean, my boyfriend ran away and I lost my job. But I wouldn\u2019t say I\u2019m having a blue period, though, that\u2019s kind of dramatic.\u201d <\/p>\n
\t\u201cI meant your basket.\u201d He pointed, his lips twitching. \u201cIt\u2019s like Picasso\u2019s Blue Period in there, I thought maybe you were working on a project.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tI nodded. It was more like a fool\u2019s errand than a project, but that\u2019s splitting hairs.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cMe, too. I\u2019m grabbing some ceramic for a mosaic.\u201d He proudly displayed a basket full of cracked plates and cups, in all kinds of colors. <\/p>\n
\t\u201cOkay.\u201d I said. \u201cWell, good luck with that.\u201d I took my basket to the checkout\/weigh station and paid, looking like a total baller with my fresh fifty.<\/p>\n
\tAs I got into my car, I saw the eyebrow-arching artiste climbing into the rustiest old Ford I\u2019d ever seen, and I\u2019ve seen a lot of rusty old Fords. He started blasting some old Prince, rocking out to Little Red Corvette. It looked so funny.<\/p>\n
\tI had about twenty bucks left after visiting the junk shop, so I stopped at the convenience store on my way home and bought a couple of tubes of toothpaste, Airheads, Cool Ranch Doritos, and two blue raspberry Slushies. I wasn\u2019t sure if the Doritos were cheating or not, since really it\u2019s the bag that\u2019s blue, not the chips themselves, but it was worth a shot. And I love Doritos.<\/p>\n
\tI thought Granny Keeper was going to be more impressed with the stuff I found, or at least tell me what it was for, but she just said \u201cThat\u2019s nice, dear,\u201d like the old lady from the memes and politely declined the Slushee. A little deflated, I dropped my bags on the counter. A plastic Easter egg rolled out, hiding itself behind the microwave. When I reached back to grab it, my fingers brushed against something hemp and familiar.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cMy wallet!\u201d I crowed, waving it triumphantly over my head. It was nice to know that Will was only a thief of love and not a thief of cash.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cOh, you found it. How lovely.\u201d She patted my shoulder, then frowned at me. \u201cYou drove all day without your license?\u201d<\/p>\n
\tI was going to look for a job the next day. I was actually going to look for a job all the next week, the next month, but it never happened. Every day, Granny Keeper had a new eccentric goose chase for me. It always started with pancakes and segued into nonsensical requests. <\/p>\n
\t \u201cBree, darling, I need some soft things.\u201d <\/p>\n
\t \u201cBree, dear, how about you run out and grab me some wooden things?\u201d \t<\/p>\n
\t\u201cBree, sweetie, I would really love something shiny.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tShe never would tell me why, or what, she really wanted. She just said to get as much I could, and she would know it when she saw it. <\/p>\n
\tSo far, no good. I hadn\u2019t found the it<\/em> yet and my house was quickly disappearing beneath the mounds of not-its.<\/p>\n \tJanae came by to check on me. I was surprised. I\u2019d begun to think I\u2019d lost her in mini-divorce. <\/p>\n \t\u201cWill\u2019s worried about you,\u201d she said, uncomfortably tucking a braid behind her ear.<\/p>\n \t\u201cWill?\u201d I guess I did lose her in the break up, she was here by his decree.<\/p>\n \t\u201cYes, Will. He thinks you\u2019ve gone a little crazy since you guys broke up.\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cCrazy?\u201d I bit down on my tongue, determined not to speak again until I had a real, original thought to express.<\/p>\n \t\u201cYes, Bree. You\u2019re not working or dating or anything, and all you do is buy random crap from thrift stores. And you keep posting selfies of you and your grandma having tea and eating pancakes. I\u2019m not going to lie to you, it looks nuts.\u201d<\/p>\n \tI liked to think that Granny Keeper and I look like Kate Middleton and the Queen as we sip our tea, so I was more than a bit offended by that last remark. My mouth screwed up into a sideways knot and I rolled my eyes.<\/p>\n \t\u201cThat\u2019s fine, you can roll your eyes at me. You never did like to listen to me. But you need to be rolling them around this house and taking a close look at what\u2019s going on. You\u2019re going to be buried alive in here, and Will and I are going to be kicking back, watching you on a very special episode of Hoarders.\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cI\u2019m not hoarding. I\u2019m looking. I\u2019m looking for something.\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cLooking for what?\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cI\u2019ll know it when I see it.\u201d I waded through a pile of old quilts and tattered baskets and threw open the door. \u201cAnd what do you mean \u2018Will and I?\u2019 You\u2019re a Will-and-I now?\u201d <\/p>\n \tNow it all made sense-every time she came over, they always stayed up giggling, \u201ckicking back\u201d or whatever, when I went to bed. Will said I was paranoid because I thought it was weird.<\/p>\n \tShe didn\u2019t answer me, she just grabbed her purse and started shuffling to the door.<\/p>\n \t\u201cYou can tell Will that if he doesn\u2019t want to look at my face, then he sure doesn\u2019t need to be looking at my Facebook. Please let him know that my mental state is just fine, and no matter how much you guys would love it, I am not pining for his company. Or yours!\u201d<\/p>\n \tAfter a completely satisfying and house rattling door slam, Granny Keeper stepped into the room, gracefully navigating the debris. \u201cThat\u2019s nice, dear. You found it,\u201d she murmured absently, patting my arm.<\/p>\n \t\u201cFound what?\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cYour self-respect. I knew it was around here somewhere.\u201d<\/p>\n \tI was at the Safe House thrift shop, hunting for things that were purple, when I met Corinne. She was hunting for things that were t-shirts. Tiny ones to be exact. Her own clothes were really nice, brand names and classy colors. She wasn\u2019t wearing any make up, though, and warm brown roots sprouted from her very meticulous part. <\/p>\n \tShe only found two tiny shirts, and I felt bad for her because she obviously wasn\u2019t very good at this game.<\/p>\n \t\u201cWhat size?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n \t\u201cI beg your pardon?\u201d she said in lovely, clear tones. I\u2019ll have to remember that. Instead of inanely repeating people, I\u2019ll just say \u2018I beg your pardon?\u2019 Way more elegant. Like Kate Middleton.<\/p>\n \t\u201cWhat size shirt are you looking for?\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201c3T.\u201d<\/p>\n \tI dug through a couple piles, including the ones marked swimsuits, husky girls, and men\u2019s sweaters. I am awesome at this game, and wound up with an assortment of 3T\u2019s in a wide array of styles and colors. <\/p>\n \t\u201cThat was amazing.\u201d She grinned. \u201cI\u2019m Corinne.\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cI\u2019m Bree. So, what are these for? Some kind of project?\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cThey\u2019re for my son,\u201d she said, grin fading. Her face tightened into a defensive mask as she unzipped her Burberry bag, pulling out a handful of dimes and quarters. \u201cThank you for your help,\u201d she said coldly and took her shirts to the register.<\/p>\n \tI watched, feeling rude and awkward, as the cashier refused her quarters and slipped a couple Dr. Seuss books and a worn teddy bear into the bag. They hugged briefly and Corinne hurried out the door.<\/p>\n \tI followed her. \u201cHey!\u201d I shouted.<\/p>\n \tShe stopped, turning with an impatient look on her face. \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cI\u2019m sorry if I said the wrong thing. I\u2019m not good at talking sometimes.\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cMe, neither.\u201d She smiled. \u201cI\u2019m just a little oversensitive, I suppose, my life\u2019s changing and it takes some getting used to.\u201d Unwelcome tears blanketed her eyes, and she blinked the blink of a woman desperate not to cry in the middle of the road. I know that blink.<\/p>\n \t\u201cDo you wanna get some coffee with me? My treat.\u201d Coffee usually distracts me.<\/p>\n \tWhen I got home, Granny Keeper was waiting for me on the sofa, surrounded by empty picture frames and throw pillows with the regality of a duchess. She cleared a patch of couch for me, and I dropped into it. With my head on her shoulder, I told her about it.<\/p>\n \t\u201cI guess I\u2019m lucky Will ran away. With some people it\u2019s totally the other way around.\u201d She listened without commenting, as I told her about Corinne, about how she came to live at Safe House, leaving her home with nothing but her toddler and a suitcase. How she was trying to build a new life from the ground up. How she had given up everything to find herself.<\/p>\n \t\u201cI wonder what made her come to this decision,\u201d Granny Keeper said.<\/p>\n \t\u201cShe said her counselor helped her. Corinne started seeing her because her husband said she was too moody and difficult, and that\u2019s why he acted the way he did, but then she realized that she wasn\u2019t the problem at all.\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cThat must be lovely for the counselor,\u201d she mused. \u201cTo be able to help other women like that.\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cAbsolutely,\u201d I agreed.<\/p>\n \t\u201cSo, what did you find today?\u201d Granny Keeper asked briskly.<\/p>\n \tI stopped at the junk shop after class, so that I could find some things that were broken, when I ran into the artiste. He arched his eyebrow at me and examined my basket of cracked plates and pottery fragments.<\/p>\n \t\u201cSo, what are these for?\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cI beg your pardon?\u201d <\/p>\n \t\u201cWhat\u2019s all this for?\u201d he asked again.<\/p>\n \t\u201cI\u2019m not sure yet,\u201d I said mysteriously. At least I hope it sounded mysterious and not just lame.<\/p>\n \t\u201cBut you\u2019re not an artist?\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cI\u2019m a psychology major.\u201d <\/p>\n \t\u201cOh, I get it, mending broken things.\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cYeah, that\u2019s it.\u201d I headed over to weigh my junk. He followed.<\/p>\n \t\u201cCan we go to dinner sometime? Or get coffee?\u201d Instead of arching, his eyebrows drew together seriously. He looked a little nervous, which was endearing.<\/p>\n \tSo I said okay, we exchanged numbers (and names!), and I told him I\u2019d see him Saturday.<\/p>\n \tBefore he left I gave him all my shattered stuff. He promised to make something pretty for me and jumped into the rusty Ford, once again blasting some Prince. The Most Beautiful Girl in the World. He grabbed his chest and pointed at me like a total goober. It was really sweet.<\/p>\n \tThe house was spotless when I got home. Granny Keeper was sitting at the kitchen table, knitting by the light of my laptop.<\/p>\n \t\u201cWhere is everything?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n \t\u201cWhat did you find today, dear?\u201d she countered.<\/p>\n \tI blushed and shrugged. \u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cIt\u2019ll be fun to find out,\u201d she said with a wink. I slid into the chair next to her and my eyes were drawn to the glow of the screen. Even though I\u2019d been expecting it, Granny Keeper\u2019s recent web search just about broke my heart.<\/p>\n \t\u201cYou\u2019re looking at Craig\u2019s List.\u201d My throat tightened and I started blinking in sad Morse Code.<\/p>\n \t\u201cOh, dearie, you\u2019ve found so much.\u201d She patted my hand. \u201cIt\u2019s time I went looking again.\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cWho?\u201d I swallowed all the ugly jealousy and tried to be happy for her next girl.<\/p>\n \t\u201cI\u2019m not sure yet. I\u2019ll know her when I see her.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I\u2019m not the hoarder, Granny Keeper is. I\u2019m just the finder. I found her the day I lost everything. My boyfriend, my wallet, my job. I had no idea where the boyfriend or the wallet went, I just knew they weren\u2019t there when I woke up. Will\u2019s stuff was all gone, from his Xbox to …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":62127,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,9365],"tags":[9368],"class_list":["post-88357","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","category-tcl-22-winter-2017","tag-the-colored-lens-22-winter-2017","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/88357","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/62127"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=88357"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/88357\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":139496,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/88357\/revisions\/139496"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=88357"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=88357"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=88357"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n
\n
\n
\n