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My employee, Seth, shrugs, and the screen glitches, which makes it look like his face is melting down his neck, “If your contractor doesn’t reschedule, are you even doing home renovations? I have people in Manhattan who give me the run-around. I imagine it’s even tougher to find someone who’s consistent in the middle of nowhere.”
“It’s been a challenge.”
We’re on our third set of contractors this month. The first two dropped out because they were worried about the curse. My mother’s stories are all fun and games until they start impacting our daily lives.
Last night, I fought the urge to throttle her when she told Eleanor about Beatrix. I don’t believe in this stupid curse, but I do believe that things become more powerful once they’re spoken out loud. If there is a curse, we’ve probably brought it upon ourselves due to our sheer inability to shut up about it.
“Anyway, for the fall launch—” a blood-curdling scream interrupts me, shaking the rafters.
“Excuse me,” I mumble, slamming my laptop shut.
I race downstairs to find that the chandelier in the foyer, which has been a part of the house since 1915, now resides on the ground, surrounded by hundreds of shards of broken crystal. A contractor stands to the left of the ocean of broken glass. He is frozen on his ladder, clinging to the rungs. His face is red. His hair is matted with sweat.
“That thing missed me by an inch!” he howls.
“Did you loosen the screws somehow?” I ask as I survey the damage. This is going to take all day to clean up. I try my best to gingerly step over the shards and offer my hand to the contractor. He waves me away as he crawls down the ladder.
“I didn’t touch shit! I hadn’t even looked at that thing, and then it plummeted to the ground like someone fucking cut the wires!”
“That’s impossible. No one’s examined the chandelier since the nineties. I know last week’s crew didn’t touch it. They said they didn’t have enough experience with antiques.”
“I know what I fucking saw! I saw the screws loosen out of nowhere! It wasn’t the wind. The ladder didn’t knock it. Someone unscrewed this fucking thing to try and take me out.”
“Yes, because the house has a specific vendetta against you, the person sent to fix it,” I deadpan. It doesn’t help.
“This place is cursed!”
“No, it’s not. Listen, Howard, I’m sure there’s a logical explanation.”
“Don’t try and fucking gaslight me about this! I know what I saw! I never should have taken this job. All my buddies warned me, but I didn’t listen.”
“You were right to ignore your colleagues. There’s no such thing as curses,” I say, attempting to keep my voice level even though my palms are starting to sweat. I can’t lose another contractor! At this rate, my two-week trip is going to turn into two years!
Another contractor pokes his head into the room and whistles when he sees the glass splayed along the floor.
“Shit, what happened in here?”
“This place is cursed.”
“I told you so.”
“No, no. He didn’t tell you anything. You’re fine! It’s fine! Uh, listen, lunch is on me! I’ll go order us some pizzas.”
“You could fly me to Italy for lunch, and I still wouldn’t be caught dead working here. I quit.”
He turns on his heel and gestures for his co-worker to follow him.
“Jokes on you! You can’t quit, you’re fired for believing in this bullshit!” I bellow. My yell echoes throughout the hall. When I’m alone, I study the damage and contemplate punching a hole in the wall. It’s not like it would make anything worse.
“Fuck!” I scream, stomping my foot. I feel a sharp piece of glass pierce the sole of my loafer, which only makes me swear more. I hop up and down, hoping it didn’t break the skin.
“Joseph? Are you alright, dear? I was about to make some sandwiches for lunch,” my mother’s eyes widen when she takes in the scene before her.
“Oh, dear! Whatever happened here!”
“The chandelier fell.”
“Well, good thing we have contractors. It’s no biggie, as the kids say.”
