Forgotten In The Cold Cellar

The holidays were over. My parents were packing the SUV, ready to head back to the city for work. My little brother, Beau, had already claimed the front passenger seat, looking like a little king.

I wanted to go, too. I needed to go. But no matter how hard I pulled at the door handle, it wouldnt budge. It was locked tight.

As the engine roared to life and the car began to crawl forward, panic seized me. I threw myself in front of the hood, screaming until my throat felt raw. "Why does he get to go? Why not me?"

I pounded on the tinted glass, desperate for a glance, a sign. Finally, Mom turned her head. She didnt unlock the door. Instead, she pulled out her phone and aimed the camera at me.

"Look at her," she muttered, her voice muffled by the glass, likely recording a video for her followers. "Shes old enough to know better. If we dont go work, how is she going to eat? How is she going to have nice clothes?"

She caught my breakdown on screen, then turned back to the road. I was gasping for air, sobbing so hard I couldnt stand. A small crowd of neighbors and relatives had gathered to watch the spectacle.

"Just take her," a cousin shouted. "Whats one more? Youve got the space."

Suddenly, a pair of rough hands lifted me off the ground. It was Dad. He stepped out of the car for a moment, wiping the tears from my cheeks with a thumb that smelled of tobacco and gasoline.

"Hey, hey, princess. Stop the waterworks," he whispered. "Tell you what, lets play a game. Hide-and-seek. If you can hide so well that we cant find you, well take you with us. Deal?"

I nodded frantically, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I turned and ran, my mind racing for the perfect spot. I found itthe old root cellar behind the shed. It was a heavy wooden hatch set into the frozen earth.

I climbed down into the dark. It was freezing and smelled of damp soil and rotting potatoes, but my chest felt warm. If I just stayed quiet, if I won this game, Id be with them. I wouldnt have to stay here anymore.

Last year, they left only with Beau, too. But they promisednext year, we promise.

Grandma and Grandpa had smiled then, looking like the kind grandparents in a picture book, promising theyd take such good care of me. But the second my parents car rounded the bend at the end of the gravel road, Grandpas smile vanished.

"They dont want you, girl," hed chuckled, lighting a cigarette.

"Liar!" Id screamed, biting back tears. "Mom and Dad love me!"

Grandma didnt say a word. She just grabbed my long braids and dragged me into the kitchen. She took the heavy kitchen shears and hacked my hair off right there.

When I looked in the mirror, my head looked like a jagged, ruined field after a harvest. I touched the uneven stubble, my hands shaking. My hair was the one thing Mom always loved. Every time she visited, shed brush it for hours, telling me how beautiful and dark it was.

And now it was gone. I hadnt protected the one thing she liked about me.

Grandma tucked ten dollars into her pocketthe money shed get from the local wig-maker for the hair. "Easier to keep clean this way," she snapped. "And stop that crying. You're crying away all the luck in this house."

I didnt cry after that. Not out loud. Id just let my shoulders shake in silence.

The kids at school started calling me "Rat-head." I learned to run fast so they couldnt catch me. I told myself I didnt care. But at night, curled under a thin, moth-eaten quilt, Id rub those jagged ends of hair and my nose would sting. Id bury my face in the pillow so the sound wouldn't escape, even as the tears soaked into the old cotton.

But today was different. Today, I was leaving. No one would call me names ever again. Mom would brush my hair, and wed let it grow long together.

I huddled in the corner of the cellar, hugging my knees, holding my breath. I had counted to a hundred three times over by now.

I was getting anxious, but I told myself to wait. They were looking for me. They had to be. They were probably searching the barn, or the attic, taking the game seriously.

Then, through the heavy wooden door above me, I heard the sound of an engine turning over.

I froze. No. Thats not right.

I scrambled for the wooden ladder, my hands slipping on the damp rungs.

The ladder wobbled dangerously, but I didnt care. I shoved my head against the cellar door, trying to peek through the crack. The winter light was blindingly bright.

I saw the silver SUV backing out of the driveway, turning toward the main road.

"Dad!" I screamed, but the sound was swallowed by the celebratory firecrackers the neighbors were setting off to see them south.

I pushed against the door with everything I had, but it was heavy, and something felt stuck. Wait for me! Im not in the car yet!

In my desperation, my foot slipped off the frozen rung.

I fell backward. My head hit the icy concrete floor with a sickening thud.

Pain exploded in the back of my skull. Gold stars danced behind my eyelids.

The sound of the engine grew faint. Fainter.

I tried to scream for help, but no sound came out. I couldnt move. My hand brushed something wet and warm spreading out from under my head. I didn't know what it was. I just knew I was cold. So cold.

The engine noise vanished completely. They had forgotten me.

Just as the darkness started to pull at me, I heard footsteps above. Hope flared like a dying ember. They remembered. They realized I wasn't in the car. They came back for me!

"Whered that brat hide herself?"

It was Grandmas voice. My heart sank. But maybe... maybe they sent her to find me. Maybe they were waiting at the gate.

I tried to thud my hand against the ground. Once. Twice. But I had no strength left. The sound was weaker than a mouse scratching in the walls.

"Whatever," I heard Grandpa say. "Shell come out when she gets hungry enough."

Grandma let out a sharp, dry laugh.

"Her dad told me before he pulled outsaid the girl was making such a scene about leaving, he had to trick her with that hide-and-seek nonsense. Told us to just play along and 'comfort' her once they were gone."

"Hide-and-seek?" Grandpa chuckled. "Smart kid. He always was a quick thinker."

"Had to do something," Grandma said. "She was blocking the car, crying like a banshee. Imagine what the neighbors would think if they saw us just peeling her off the door."

My ears began to ring. They never intended to find me.

"If she hadn't been the one to give me my grandson, I wouldn't even bother with this little debt-trap," Grandma grumbled. "They barely come back once a year to see her. They're probably sick to death of her themselves."

The footsteps faded away.

In the dark, I lay alone. Was I never wanted? Not even from the start?

But Mom and Dad told me they worked so hard in the city for us. They said it was too dangerous and busy for a little girl there. When I asked why Beau got to go, they said it was because he was a boy, and he needed to "learn the struggle."

I wanted to tell them I wasn't afraid of the struggle. I would have worked. I would have done anything just to be near them.

In the deepening shadows, I thought I saw Mom brushing my hair again. I saw Dad lifting me onto his shoulders, running through the tall grass. I saw them laughing.

I laughed, too. I reached out toward the light, trying to catch them, but my fingers only grasped the freezing air.

The world went black. The last bit of light flickered out.

It felt like I had fallen into a long, heavy dream.

When I opened my eyes, I was floating near the ceiling of the cellar. I looked down and saw myselfa small, crumpled shape on the floor. Beneath my head, a dark, frozen flower had bloomed on the concrete.

By the time I drifted out of the cellar, it was night.

In the yard, Grandpa was snapping a padlock onto the back door.

Grandma glanced over. "How's she supposed to get in if you lock it?"

Grandpa didn't look up, testing the chain. "Let her stay out a bit. Teach her a lesson. Did you see her this morning? Blocking the car in front of everyone. Now the whole town is whispering that were cruel, that we favor the boy. Shes ruining our reputation."

Grandma tossed a basin of dirty water into the corner. "Spiteful little thing. Girls are never as simple as boys. Always got a scheme."

I wanted to scream: No! I wasn't being mean! I just wanted to be with them!

But I drifted right through them. I couldn't touch a thing.

"She's probably hiding in a corner of the house somewhere, watching us look for her," Grandma said, heading inside. "The more we look, the more she wins. Just leave her."

Grandpa kicked a bowl of leftover scraps toward the dog's house. "Don't say we didn't feed her. If she's hungry, she can eat what the dog eats."

They went inside and killed the lights. I stood in the freezing yard, looking at the bowl of dog food. Even if I were alive, that was my dinner.

The wind blew through my transparent chest. For the first time, I realized I couldn't feel the cold anymore, yet I had never felt more chilled.

The next morning.

Grandpa came out of the house and squinted toward the kitchen shed. "Where is she? Why isn't breakfast started?"

I usually made breakfast. The stove was taller than me; I had to stand on a rickety wooden stool to reach the pots. Sometimes the stool slipped and my knees would turn purple from the fall, but Grandma would just call me clumsy and tell me I was wasting time.

Grandma grumbled as she stoked the fire herself. "Lazy brat's hiding in her room, I bet."

"I saw the dog bowl was empty this morning," Grandpa noted. "And her bedroom door is shut tight. Shes probably throwing a tantrum because her dad left her."

I hovered in front of her, desperate. No! The dog ate the food! And the door is stuck because the old wardrobe tipped over in the wind!

But they heard nothing.

Grandpa grabbed his hoe and banged on my bedroom door. "Get out here and work! Youre too young to be this lazy!"

Silence.

Grandmas temper flared. She caught sight of a pile of gifts my mom had broughtthe only things shed given me. She grabbed the one thing I loved most: a dress.

"No! Please, no!" I cried.

She didn't hear. She took the shears and ripped them from the collar to the hem. It was a princess dress, layers of soft pink tulle. I had begged Mom for months for it. Grandma had always said dresses were useless for chores, but Mom had finally given in.

I had only worn it once. I was so afraid of getting it dirty that Id folded it perfectly and put it back in the bag, waiting for the first day of school. I wanted the kids who called me "Rat-head" to see that I had something beautiful. That my mom loved me.

Now, it was a rag in Grandmas hands.

"Wants to go to the city, does she? I feed her for free and she gives me attitude!"

Scraps of pink gauze flew through the air.

"Fine! Stay in there and rot! You love this dress so much? Now it's trash, just like your attitude!"

I knelt to pick up the pieces, but my fingers passed through the fabric like smoke.

"Forget it," Grandpa said, pulling her away. "Shes stubborn. Just make sure there's something for her to eat at lunch. The kids should be in the city by now. Theyll probably FaceTime tonight. And heythose sweet potatoes in the cellar need to be brought up before they spoil."

"I know, I know," Grandma waved him off.

Grandpa headed to the fields. Grandma stood up and started walking toward the root cellar.

My heartor where my heart used to beseized. She was going there. She was going to find me.

I flew ahead of her, watching as her withered hand reached for the heavy wooden handle.

Just as she was about to pull it open, her phone chirped in the house. She paused, grumbled, and turned back.

I stayed by the hatch, staring at the wood. So close.

Grandma answered the phone, her face instantly breaking into a wide, toothy grin. "Oh, my precious boy! My grandson!"

She held the phone high. On the screen was Mom, holding Beau in a bright, modern apartment.

"Did my little man have a long trip? Is he tired? Grandmas going to Venmo your mom twenty dollars so you can get a big ice cream sundae!"

"Thanks, Grandma," Beau chirped.

"Such a good boy!" Grandma beamed.

She never called me a good girl. I was a "mouth to feed" or a "debt." I had gotten straight A's on my report card, and shed told me education was a waste on a girl whod just end up in someone elses kitchen anyway. But Beau... Beau just had to exist to be worth twenty dollars.

Moms voice came through, sounding a bit guilty. "Mom? Wheres Lucy? We lied to her about the game... shes probably pretty upset, isn't she?"

Grandma pointed the camera at my locked bedroom door.

"Still holed up in there. Shes got a temper on her, that one!" Grandma raised her voice, making sure the "Lucy" she thought was inside could hear.

Mom sighed, shifting Beau on her hip. "Lucy!" she called out. "Listen, Mom and Dad are sorry we tricked you." Her voice softened. "But Beau is starting preschool, and theres just so much going on here. We couldn't manage. Next year. I promise, next year well bring you up, okay?"

Silence from the room.

I watched Moms face. I felt a surge of guilt. I was being "difficult." My parents were working so hard, and here I was, making them worry.

When there was no answer, Moms patience began to fray. "Lucy! Be a big girl and answer me! Don't make us worry!"

Dad leaned into the frame. "Lucy, hey, its your birthday, kiddo. We ordered that strawberry shortcake you like. The bakery is delivering it to the house. Why don't you come out and have a slice?"

I jumped for joy. My favorite. But then I looked at my translucent hands and the joy turned to lead. Id never taste it.

"For heaven's sake," Mom snapped, her tone changing. "Were exhausted, we remembered your birthday, and youre still acting out? What else do you want?"

Still nothing.

Mom took a deep breath and handed Beau to Dad. She looked right into the camera. "Lucy, Im asking you one last time. Are you coming out?"

No answer.

"Fine. Stay in there. Starve for all I care." Moms face went cold. She looked at Grandma. "Mom, when the cake gets there, you and Dad just eat it. Don't give her a single bite. She needs to learn she can't hold us hostage with her moods."

The call ended.

I hovered by the door, watching the empty room. They didn't know. There was no one in there to hear them.

The cake arrived that evening. Grandma put it on the table and grumbled to Grandpa, "A cake for a girl who won't even work. In our day, we were lucky to get an extra egg on our birthday."

Mom called again. "Is she out?"

When Grandma said no, Moms eyes looked red, her face weary. "Lucy... Mom said some mean things earlier. Come out and eat your cake. Well sing to you over the phone, okay?"

Silence.

"Lucy?"

Nothing.

The last of Moms patience snapped. "Lucy! I am talking to you!" Her chest heaved. "There is a limit to how much attitude I will take! We didn't raise you to be disrespectful to your elders!"

The anger, the fatigue of the move, the guilt she was trying to outrunit all boiled over. "Mom! Where are the keys? Open that door. This is ridiculous!"

Grandma started rummaging through drawers. "I don't know where the spare is..."

"Check under the rug by the front door," Mom said.

Grandma froze, then bent down. Sure enough, a key was tucked there.

It was a secret between Mom and me. Before Beau was born, I lived with them in the city. I was always losing my key, so she hid one there and told only me. Back then, I was her "little star."

Grandpa held the phone so Mom could see. Grandma slid the key into the lock and pushed.

But the door wouldn't open.