House Taken Over

Aside from it being spacious and being able to home 8 people, we liked the house because it held countless memories of our family. It kept the recollections of our great grandparents, our grandfather, our parents and our whole childhood. Irene and I would rise at seven in the morning to begin cleaning the house, and would finish at about 11. As I left her to finish up the remaining rooms, I would prepare us our lunch and we would dine at 12. I enjoyed the conversations we had during lunch, and the fact we kept the house manageably clean. We were in our forties and the concept of a brother and sister marriage was gradually beginning to seem unavoidable. We knew we were going to die in that house. If that would happen, the house would be inherited by our cousins and be auctioned off for profit.

Once the house work was done, you would find Irene sitting on the couch in her room knitting. It was incredible how much she would knit. She knitted only the necessities like morning bathrobes, socks for the winter and bed jackets for herself. Saturdays I would go downtown and buy her wool, she had faith in my good taste. I would also benefit from these trips when I would go down to the bookstore seeking for new French literature. Although nothing new came to Argentina since 1939. But it’s the house I want to talk about, the house and Irene. As you entered the house through the hall, before you would be a wrought-iron grated door that opened to the living room. Our bedroom doors were on the opposite side of the iron door. There was another door which opened to a passage way that led to an oak door that released the other part of the house. Before this oak door, you can turn left and go down a narrower passage way which led to the kitchen and bathroom. Irene and I rarely went beyond the oak door, but house cleaning was an exception.

That moment will always be imbedded in my mine, it happened so sudden and without a fuss. It was eight at night and Irene was knitting as usual. I wanted water for tea so I walked down the corridor as far as the oak door. Turning I ended up in the kitchen, it was there where I heard something from the library or dining room. I soon came to the realization it was a chair being knocked over or a faint whisper. At the same time or a second later, I heard it at the end of the corridor closer to where the oak door was. By this time I was pressing myself against the door before it was too late. They have taken over the back part of the house.

The first few days were painful, since we had to leave so many things in the part of the house that was taken over. Though advantages came along with this like our cleaning was reduced, so we were able to wake up at nine thirty and still finish up before lunch. Irene seemed to manage because it left more time for knitting; however I felt a little lost without my French literature.

That night we were in Irene’s room. I told her I was thirsty so I wanted to head for the kitchen, I paused. I listened intently; from the door of the bedroom I heard the noise in the kitchen. Irene noticed how I froze so sudden and came next to me without a word. We stood listening to the noises, becoming surer they were coming from our side of the oak door. I remember then taking her arm and running toward the wrought-iron door. We then slammed the iron shut and before us were the door to the outside; it was dead silent by then. We were standing outside before the house as I locked the front door shut. I felt terrible, our house was taken over.