Feebletown

Although they knocked five times, all I did was sweat and tremble. We hadn’t had a visitor in over six years. In the town of Feebletown, people never knocked on doors. Since what happened to Freda, nobody has done nothing.

Oh, Lord. The stranger just asked if anyone was home. From my place on the floor, I peered over the couch and squinted through the space between the blinds, hard enough to cause a headache. Why would someone ever need such a large backpack?

“Hello?” The stranger called again.

With one eye open, I prayed for them to leave.

“Trudy,” my mother whispered from the kitchen. Like mother, like daughter, she was also sitting on the floor and hiding behind a wall. “Do they look like they’re going away?”

Popping up like a meerkat, I peeped through the blinds again. To my amazement, the street was empty. I gasped, “Mom, they’re gone!” We both smiled and jumped up in excitement.

Just then, our joy was cut short by another knock on the door. “I can hear and see you.” We froze. “I’m just a traveler looking for a place to eat. Do you have any pubs in this town?” Neither of us had the courage to tell a hungry backpacker that we haven’t had a new business open here in decades. My mother scurried to the kitchen and ripped a chunk of bread from our loaf. After she passed it to me, she shooed me in the direction of the stranger. As I shook my head, she nodded. With just my mom and me, I knew that whenever she nodded she meant it.

I tiptoed to the door, but when the new voice started talking again, I took a few steps back. With my mother’s mimed encouragement, I inched forward. Once I made it to the door, I hovered my hand above the knob, before closing my eyes and breathing. Only a two-inch-wide door separated me from danger. Like a hummingbird, I unlocked the door, opened it, threw out the bread, closed the door, and locked it.

As I sank to the floor, the stranger fumbled around and eventually thanked us. With a thumbs up from Mom, I gave my heartrate permission to drop.

***

For three days now, the stranger has been working on the abandoned building across the street. In between finishing my school work and starting my chores, I surveillanced them through the window. They spent hours cleaning, moving furniture, and heaping bags of garbage outside.

When the semi truck came, the neighbors went wild. While peering from behind their curtains, they’d call my mom and gossip. Mary went on and on about how this was a bad omen. Julie insisted this was the return of Freda. According to the oldest people of this town, including my grandparents, there was a young woman named Freda. Centuries ago, she left Feebletown to explore other lands. Her family didn’t want her to leave, so they had a friend follow her, to make sure she’s safe. However, that friend turned out to be a witch who took it upon herself to teach Freda a lesson. Just as she left the town, Freda noticed her acquaintance walking behind her. She approached her with friendliness, but she was greeted with an attack of spells. With every sign of fighting or bravery Freda showed, the witch hurt her even more and eventually left her for dead. No one knows exactly what happened to Freda, but most believe she tried crawling back to town. She made it but died at the town’s gate. Nowadays, we never dared to explore. None of us wanted Freda’s curse.

So when this stranger came into town and a semi truck came a couple of days later, one could have safely bet that Feebletown was terrified. As the truck driver began helping the stranger, my mother would say what she saw them carrying, and I’d write it down. Cardboard box. Another box. Three more boxes. One more box. Two boxes. After the fifthteenth box, we stopped tracking, but that was when they emptied one on the street for everyone to see. Did she know she was being watched? Did she mean to show and tell? She pulled out a wooden sign. When I squinted hard enough, I made out “Freda’s.” My jaw dropped, and my mother spit out her drink. Within two seconds, the phone rang.

As mother and the neighbor yakked, I stared and didn’t dare blink. Perhaps the most dramatic thing to happen to our town in my lifetime, Freda’s family left the safety of their house and dragged their feet onto the battlefield that was the street. Without moving my view, I motioned Mom to join me. The two of us, with jaws on the ground and craving popcorn. With their hands in their pockets, the two family members approached the stranger. They were generations separated from Freda, but they still lived with her story on their shoulders. Despite the stranger’s confidence and eye contact, we rooted for our neighbors who mumbled at the ground before her. I considered opening the windows, to hear better, but couldn’t risk being involved.

First, they exchanged words without ever raising their voices. Then, the stranger showed them the sign, causing Freda’s family to cry. But when the stranger went into the building and came out with something in hand, we smashed our faces against the windows, to get the closest look we could. With a few more remarks, the family and stranger hugged. My mother nearly fainted. While fanning her with a book, I saw them all helping unpack the truck. I contemplated joining them on the street, being a part of the conversation, learning what was going on. Feeling something new inside my veins, I itched to go outside. My fingers drummed on the book’s cover. My voice box quivered to ask for permission.

“Mom?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Can I go outside and help them?”

My mother lost any color she had left.

“Mom!”

“Why?” She stuttered.

“I want to know what’s happening. I don’t want to keep watching.”

She sighed and pushed herself up to sit on the couch. “Get me some bread, will you?” I rushed to the kitchen and returned with her request.

“Mom, are you okay?”

“Let me eat something and then we’ll go.”

Despite smiling, I insisted she didn’t have to. While chewing, she shook her head at me and waved her hand. I ran to get her a glass of water. From the kitchen window, I saw our neighbors smiling, taking in the sun.

“Here you go, Mom.” I handed her the cup.

After four sips and a nod,  she said, “Let’s go.” I smiled and helped her up with shaking hands. Both of us walked to the front door with quivering knees.

As we shimmied into our shoes, I asked, “Why are you joining me?”

“So you don’t get yourself killed.” With a hand on the door knob, she added, “You ready?”

I nodded, and we stepped outside.

***

That night, I went to bed exhausted. Looking outside was nothing like experiencing it. All the senses had something to keep them busy. Conversations, boxes to move, wind, sunshine, birds chirping.

I learned that the stranger was “Sammy,” a descendant of Freda’s lover Renee. She came to Feebletown to reunite the lovers’ spirits, with a new restaurant and the women’s pair of rings. We spent hours assembling tables and chairs, organizing the kitchen, and meeting the people we’ve lived next to our whole lives. With Freda and Renee’s blessing, our town was free again.