I told absolutely no one about what happened up there. Not even my best friend, Sara. I don’t know if she would have believed me anyway. I don’t know if I would have believed myself.
It was on a Thursday afternoon. I decided to brave the attic without Mom. I hated going up there ever since I saw a spider that was so big Dad said he would find a leash for it. Yuck! But I didn’t want to wait for Mom to come home because I knew when she was at Auntie Laura’s, she lost all track of time. How could I have known what would happen to me?
“Don’t be a wuss,” I said aloud. So I grabbed the hook stick and latched it onto the metal ring on the attic cutout door. The steps unfolded and a puff of cool air caressed my face. When Dad was alive, I had no problem tagging behind him especially during Christmas. We would make this four link human assembly line to haul boxes of ornaments downstairs. It would be Dad, then me, then my sister Katie, and finally, Mom.
“Be careful with that one,” Dad would whisper as he handed me a large box. “I think Santa Claus might still be trapped in there from last year. Hear him? Listen!”
Then, he would do his lame, not very good ventriloquist voice and say, “Ho! Ho! Ho! Hi there, Mandy.
Have YOU been a good girl this year?”