Zola heard scraping on the ceiling again for the third time. It just so happened that her room was directly below the attic, so there was no telling whether Mae Mae, her grandmother, whose room was across the hall, was hearing the noises as well, or whether Mark, who had gone out with one of his many lady friends, had come back sooner than expected. When Mark first bought the house, Mae Mae would often joke that spirits resided there because the realtor told him that their home was the oldest one on the block. There were also rumors and hearsay from the neighbors that the last owners ran out of the house in the middle of the night, screaming about how ghosts were haunting them and would make strange noises at all hours of the night. Despite all of that, Mark was determined. It was something about the house that drew him in, and he was not about to let anyone try to dissuade him.
Just earlier that day, Zola’s father, Mark, received the award of best chef for the fifth year in a row. His restaurant, Mark’s Munchies, has been a staple in their community. Mark’s care for making great food and for taking care of everyone who works for him made him commendable. He also ran food drives for the homeless at churches and community centers, so the award was practically his.
Zola and Mae Mae decided to turn in early because it felt like ages since they'd been able to rest, since they'd spent the last few days making sure everything was perfect for Mark’s big night.
To keep the house clutter-free, Mark always kept the necessities and cooking supplies in the attic. He enjoyed it when things in the house were in order and grouped properly. Zola always thought he was strange for sectioning everything, like in the kitchen, Mark kept his containers color coordinated and his utensils organized by size.
Whenever Mark was hosting, Zola would listen to the guests praise Mark for how he kept his home in order, often joking about him opening a cleaning business. It seemed as though Mark could do no wrong in their eyes.
The scraping finally stopped. “Thank goodness. Now, I can get some sleep,” Zola mumbled gratefully, and began to get comfortable. But the scraping started up again, this time even louder than before; she couldn’t just let it go. She got up out of bed and slipped her houseshoes on, with her phone tucked under her arm.
Before she made it to Mark’s room, she flashed the light on her phone up towards the attic door and saw a lock on it.
“That’s odd.” Zola never saw that lock on there until just now. It must have been placed on there recently without her noticing. She knew she needed to find the key to figure out what all of that scraping was. Whenever she was out of the house, Zola would still hear the same scraping noise, as though it was following her around. She would sometimes have her headphones in listening to music, and still hear the same scraping, even in the songs she knew by heart. It started to become a bit of a nuisance.
Mark’s room was across from Zola’s, which was adjacent to Mae Mae’s. She quietly snuck in and took a look around. The comforter on the bed was wrinkle-free and properly proportioned. There were multiple different throw pillows, which were organized by size and color. The carpeted floor looked to be recently vacuumed, with the lines from the vacuum all going in the same direction. The papers and books were arranged on top of the dresser directly in the middle, with Mark’s glasses and pen right on top. The room had a lingering cologne smell, which Mark had put on before he left out for the night.
Mark was a neat freak and liked to label everything, so it made it easier for Zola to find the key. She carefully rummaged through his things until she finally opened the drawer of Mark’s nightstand and found a key labeled ‘attic’. Making sure everything was back in its right place, Zola took the key and quietly closed the door. She walked back to the attic and saw a little string dangling from it. It was too high for Zola to reach, so she began to brainstorm.
“If I were Dad and I wanted to get into this attic without making any more unnecessary messes, how would I get this attic door open?” Zola thought aloud. She began to slowly move the light around the hall until she found a step stool by her father’s door.
“Bingo,” she grabbed the stool and placed it right below the ceiling hatch. She reached the top and tiptoed, barely being able to grab the string that was on the attic door. The door made a loud creaking sound, so Zola pulled it down slowly, making sure not to wake Mae Mae.
Zola slowly pulled the hatch down and let it softly hit the ground. She flicked on the flashlight on her phone and slowly walked up, with the stairs creaking with each step. She began to turn around, but the curious cat in her just made her walk up even more.
The cooking and catering supplies were under plastic tarps. The air felt stiff and congested. Zola entered the room gradually, holding her phone’s light in her hand.
“Well, what’s the scratching I've been hearing all week, because everything looks to be in place?” Zola thought aloud. As she began to turn around and walk back down the stairs, she heard the scraping again. This time, it felt as though it was directly next to her.
“Who’s there?” Zola shouted out, her voice quivered, and her hand shook with terror. She returned the flashlight to the spot where she had initially illuminated and spotted a figure she had overlooked the first time. The frail, unyielding figure was still in the dark attic, its narrow shoulders appearing to challenge the shadows.
The person slowly stood up, their back to her, and Zola gasped, taking in their presence. The person had a scarf covering the top of their head, with the ends of their hair appearing to be semi-matted. They wore a black baggy shirt with sweats to match. Zola walked closer and saw that this person was a woman.
“Who are you? What are you doing up here?” Zola’s voice shouted out.
“Who are you?” The woman’s voice was hoarse and small. The woman stared at Zola and could see that she was older but appeared younger than Grandma Mae.
“I’m calling the police.” Zola began to frantically click the power button on her phone.
“Please don’t. Mark won’t like that.” Hearing her father’s name made Zola freeze. The fact that this strange woman knew how Zola was made her even more terrified, with a sense of confusion.
“How do you know who my father is?” Zola felt her heart thumping in her ears. Her finger stayed on the power button.
“I’m sorry if I am scaring you. My name is Angie. I’ve been living up here for the past ten years. Your father put me up here.”
“Why?”
“Because I am the woman responsible for your father’s catering business’s success.” Zola started to feel more confusion than fear. Her father was a respected man, and everybody in the neighborhood practically praised him for his generosity and kind heart.
“How do you know he’s my father?”
“Y’all have the same eyes. Yours is just more gentle than his.” Zola just sat there looking at Angie. This stranger knew of her existence and had been living above her for as long as she could remember. It gave her the creeps.
“How do I know you aren’t just a crazy person? As far as I am concerned, my father is a pillar in this community, and he told me that many strange people will come around and lie about being a part of his success, and you seem as though you are one of those people.”
With each story, Zola felt her stomach tighten. The significant dishes her father is known for have nothing to do with him, but Zola never knew what he was doing behind closed doors. After Zola’s mother passed away, Zola lived with her grandmother. Mark said he was not in the right headspace to fully take care of Zola, so dropping her off with Mae Mae was the best bet. She just started living with him three years ago, just as she was getting ready to start college. Mae Mae thought it was best to sell her house and move in with Mark to save money and to stay close to Zola.
“When your father started his company eight years ago, he could barely boil water or even cook broccoli, which says a lot. I was an independent chef, fresh out of culinary school, eager to work, learn, and expand my resume. Your father hired me to help him make a big dinner for these investors. He wanted to open his own restaurant and needed some help to do it. At first, I thought he was so nervous that he couldn’t cook his own food, so I happily volunteered to help him. In my mind, I was going to be the head chef at your dad’s restaurant while he was the face of it. You've got to understand, I was only 24 years old. I had no family and no kind of guidance in my life. I had nobody around me who could’ve stopped me from getting into this mess.” Angie’s voice began to crack, and Zola felt her throat tightening. She didn’t even know this woman, and she was already feeling bad for her.
“So how did you even get up here? I mean, you could have just left after you realized what my father’s true intentions were,” Angela pulled up her pant leg, and Zola gasped. She wore a cuff on her left leg, which was secured to the radiator.
“Once your father got the restaurant, he immediately hired me. I was never to be seen or heard. I just had to keep making the food and let him take all of the credit. Well, one night, I got tired of it. I went up to your father and told him that I was finished. I deserved better and was not going to stop until I got better. When I went into my locker to pack up my things, I felt something hit my head. When I came to, I was in here and have been stuck up here ever since.” Zola felt herself getting disgusted.
“Oh my goodness, how do you even go to the bathroom or even shower?” Angela pointed to a bucket that was within walking distance.
“That’s my bathroom right there. Your father comes up every once in a while to let me take a shower and eat. He uncuffs my leg, but cuffs my hands and keeps a close eye on me. The last time I tried to escape, he beat me so bad that I couldn’t walk for days. I just learned to accept my fate.”
Zola felt her shoulders relaxing the more she talked with Angie. She did not sense anything dangerous in Angie, just fear and a willingness to speak to anyone who would listen. Zola began to feel bad for her as she talked more about her experiences with Mark. Angie had a motherly feel to her that drew Zola in.
“Don’t worry. When Dad leaves again, we will figure out how to help you and-” Zola’s statement was interrupted by the front door slamming. Angie and Zola stared at each other in fear as Mark’s footsteps began to move around downstairs.
Even though Zola had more questions than answers, Zola needed to get out of the attic quickly, or the secrets revealed and the plans made would be shown in the light. It was too great a risk for Zola to take. Mark was not who Zola thought he was, and she needed to get to the bottom of it before she headed back to school in three weeks.
- To Mrs. Shirley-Mae Pryor,
You are a mother and grandmother that I wish everyone could experience in this lifetime. Thank you for all of your kind words, wisdom, and unconditional love that you’ve bestowed upon me. I love you in this lifetime and the next. Rest in paradise.
