Doors

By Kat Van Eyze

Doors depicts Jeff reys growth from being a child and
becoming a man encouraged and loved by his mother
despite being abandoned by her husband and his father.
Many doors are closed to Jeff rey and his mother, but they
search for that one open door together, becoming stronger
with each step they take.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 20, 2013
• ISBN: 9781493100255

Kat Van Eyze

Kat Van Eyze was born on the east coast of the United States and now lives close to the west coast where she enjoys the warmer weather. She is the mother of one son and the grandmother of one little girl. Many people wish for success in some form in their life, but her success would come from being remembered. Kat is a licensed laboratory assistant and has enjoyed working with people of all ages in a medical environment. She is a brain aneurysm survivor and hopes that others infl icted with such horrible pain and fear will fi nd strength in her books.

Book preview

Copyright © 2013 by Kat Van Eyze.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2013916719

ISBN:   Hardcover   978-1-4931-0026-2

             Softcover     978-1-4931-0024-8

             Ebook          978-1-4931-0025-5

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 09/18/2013

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CONTENTS

Doors

Secret

Storm

Automatic

Closure

Screen

Revolving

Sliding

Electric

Trap

Exit

Entry

Double

Security

Steps

From Windows to Doors before Steps

The second book of writings from a grandmother to her granddaughter

About Doors

Doors depicts Jeffrey’s growth from being a child and becoming a man encouraged and loved by his mother despite being abandoned by her husband and his father. Many doors are closed to Jeffrey and his mother, but they search for that one open door together, becoming stronger with each step they take.

For My Darling Nicole

June 17, 2008

Your father has become my whole existence. I am not sure if it was a conscious decision or just that my entire being and essence became totally focused on my child. I do hope that you are not disappointed in me for any of the decisions I have made to this point in my life. I realize now that life is all about decisions and choices; and be aware, my darling, that the choices you make will and do affect you. Be brave and accept the choices you make, whatever their outcome. Open all doors and walk through to your future.

DOORS

My husband, Jeffrey’s father, had left us. We were disposable to him and no longer wanted. I was having a very hard time dealing with the feelings that came with being viewed as trash by someone you loved so very much and could only imagine how Jeffrey felt, being so young. He had just had his ninth birthday before his father left and was still so impressionable. As we left our home, the only one he had ever known, I felt troubled and very afraid.

Jeffrey and I arrived at our new home amidst total confusion and chaos. Mother was supervising where things were to go, and Dad was connecting the appliances and checking the wiring because he was concerned with the age of this duplex home. Signs of age were everywhere, especially on the front porch—the gateway to our new beginning. Uncle Pete had painted the porch a light gray, and Gram had supplied some folding chairs to put on it. It ran the length of the front room, and there was a large tree on the side that shaded the porch from the sun and anyone who would be walking by. I loved this privacy and resolved to spend as much time as possible on this porch. Maybe I could count cars like I had as a child. Maybe I could teach Jeff this game. Now that was a stupid thought because, why would I want him to play a game I played when I was sad and lonely? I shook this thought away and began the task of putting our new home together under Mother’s total control.

Uncle Pete surprised me with paint to complete the interior painting but told me he wouldn’t be able to come to visit that often to help with this project. I thought about how much I loved him and his kindness and assured him that I understood that it was a long drive from the city to this town, and that I would enjoy doing the painting myself and would leave any hard-to-reach places for him. He accepted this and left for home along with my brother and my office friends. After everyone had gone, Dad presented Jeff with his own toolbox. Inside were small tools like a hammer and screwdriver and a lot of nails and screws. He even put a measuring tape in one of the compartments. This reminded me of when he gave me the purse filled with surprises when I was in the hospital following Jeff’s arrival. I had that purse safely in one of my boxes and would display it in my bedroom after he and Mother left. I was sure she did not know about that gift and resolved to keep that a secret between Dad and me. While Jeff was exploring his new gift, Dad winked at me and stated that maybe Jeff would allow me to borrow his tools from time to time if I needed to hammer a nail or something. Jeff said I would have to ask first and took it down to the basement where the workbench was. He was happy in that moment, and the stress of the day started to melt away.

My parents left with last-minute instructions on being safe and not opening the door to any strangers. Dad told me I should get a fire extinguisher or at least smoke alarms, and I assured him I would try. Did they forget I had very little money, and even though I would start to work in just one more day, I wouldn’t get a paycheck for at least two weeks? Oh well, not their problem. I had done this all before—only now, I had more than myself to think about. There wasn’t a deli to get a corned-beef sandwich for a dollar anywhere I could see!

Jeff and I waved to them from the porch, and as we walked through the front door to lock ourselves in, I noticed our reflections in the glass part of the door. It was like that window in that door was a reflection of our new world. What would it be like living here? Was it possible that we would finally have a happy future? The condition of our new home was not very encouraging.

To describe to you this duplex home will take some imagination on your part. It was in the middle of a long block along one of the busier streets in this town. It was a shingled home, for the most part, and where the shingles had fallen off from weather and time was exposed wood. Each entrance had its own front porch, with a portion of the home jutting out to separate them and allow for privacy. From the sidewalk, there was a concrete pathway leading to the porches that was about fifteen feet in length. I had been told by the landlord that it would be my responsibility to keep the grass mowed on my side of this walkway, and that is the only reason I had not sold the lawnmower we had for the grass around the trailer. Where to store this was a problem because even though there was a storage basement through a door in each unit’s interior basement and an entrance from the yard, it was full of the neighbor’s belongings, and no room had been left for us. No one was home when we moved in, so I planned to speak to whoever was my neighbor to hopefully get a spot for the lawnmower. For now, it was against the house in the yard, but this was not fenced off, so I worried it would be stolen.

When you entered through the front door, you were directly in the living room area that was as wide as the duplex. The only available wall for a couch had a mirror on it that must have been glued to the wall because there was no border to this mirror. The possibility that it could fall on us and what could happen if it did crept into my thoughts. There I go again giving in to fear! I have to work on this!

To the far end of this room was an archway that led into a short hall, which led to the dining room. A sharp left in this small area was a stairway to the upstairs. The dining room was squared off with a doorway at the far end that had built-in shelves and stairs to the basement. Another doorway on the opposite side of the room led to the kitchen and the back door to the yard. The steps outside of this door were wood that were rotted in many places, and the banister was lying on the ground below. The kitchen itself only had room for the stove, refrigerator, and sink. The sink was like the one in Gram’s kitchen—very old with metal doors to the cabinet above and below the sink, which itself was porcelain and chipped in many places. The stairs that went to the basement were also wood but in much better condition with a fresh coat of paint courtesy of Uncle Pete. The center of the steps had a gritty finish to prevent falling, and fortunately, he did not paint over this. Remember that he was not the brightest crayon in the box, but also remember that he was the one with the brightest heart! Jeff added to these steps being unsafe by hammering every nail my father had put into his toolbox and some that were left on the workbench into the bottom three steps completely covering the wood edges. I decided he needed to vent his frustrations somehow and told him how beautiful they looked!

At the bottom of the basement stairs, which went into the center of the basement, was a window that looked out on the side of the house. This was not a great view, but the window lifted upward and could be hooked to the ceiling. I found this helped to cool the house in the summer ahead. To the left of the stairs was the workbench and a small door that led into the back basement that was filled with the neighbor’s things. To the right of the stairs was the laundry area where Dad had installed our washer and dryer brought from the trailer. I had also kept these.

The stairway to the upstairs was enclosed, and at the top was a doorway to the left with the bedroom that became mine. This looked out over the front of the duplex and only had a cupboard with shelves. There was no closet to hang clothes. Oh well, I knew how to string a rope, and images of the attic I had run away from loomed in my memory. To the right of the landing was a hall that led to the bathroom, with another bedroom branching off to the right. Inside this bedroom was a cupboard that had stairs that were blocked off at the top. This became Jeffrey’s room, and the steps were great for storing his toys and a good place for his shoes.

While Jeffrey washed and changed for the evening, I decided to see what food we had left from the lunch meat and sandwich buns Gram had sent with Uncle Pete. There was actually a good amount left after we had eaten lunch that afternoon with Mom and Dad and the others who were there to help us. There were a few cans of soda and some coffee and milk that Mom had brought for Dad, who loved his coffee and drank it for most of the day. I had brought some canned soup and canned vegetables as well as a box of cereal. I didn’t have anything left from the refrigerator at the trailer because Jeff and I had made do with what we had the week before our move, and my plan was to shop after we were settled. I realized that the next day was Sunday, and all the stores in this town would be closed; so I counted out what money I had left, trying to estimate what Jeff would need for school lunches