Art: Peeking Through a Window by Caitlin Carter
THE ROOMING HOUSE
Katya was living in a dilapidated rooming house, in a decaying part of Chicago. At one time this house had been her home. The people who lived there were happy and used her establishment every time they had business in the city.
Oskar was one of her favorite tenants. He was a gentle man with kind eyes that crinkled when he smiled. He took it upon himself to make sure all the tenants respected Katya. When the street wars of the 1930’s began, everyone tried to get out, but some didn’t make it. Including Katya. Her home was now filled with drunks, derelicts, and the destitute. Thanks to the war, she was also destitute.
Katya was in her late thirties, with beautiful blonde hair that showed more silver than blonde. She had blue-green eyes that still showed fire in them, and a slim body, although you couldn’t tell by the men’s clothes she wore.
As Katya stood talking with the tenants, she searched for those kind eyes, and when she found them Oskar nodded, and she began to speak in her heavy polish accent, “If you want food, you’re going to help me get it. I don’t care where you get it from, or how you get it, I just want the ability to cook all of us one good meal a day. If you can get to the soup kitchens and bread lines that will help also. Since most of you aren’t paying rent, this is the least you can do. While the water is no longer working on this street, we’ll bring water home from one of the other streets not affected by the war. If we are to survive, we will have to work together,” said Katya. The crowd broke up and Oskar went to her.
“Oskar, how can I live like this?” she searched his eyes for an answer. “I’m ready to give up,” she said. None of the rooms have doors, and the cobwebs are taking over. Two or three rooms have racoons living in them I think.
I imagine the bed bugs and cockroaches have several nests in them, too. The walls have been sprayed with bullets, the bottom half of all the windows had to be boarded up so people won’t look inside.” Oskar nodded as Katya continued, “The drapes were set on fire and the only thing left of them are the scorched remains, hanging like long spindly fingers. The mice and rats and other rodents have taken up residence here, too. The noxious odors of smoke, vomit, urine and dead animals are far from the smell of sweet flowers that once graced this area. Oskar, what should I do?” she leaned into him and began to cry. Oskar held her until her cries became soft whimpers. He held her by the shoulders, gazed into her eyes and said, “Katya have you not learned anything from this?”
“My house lies in ruins! There are people out there showing off how much muscle they have, not caring about who they hurt in the process. No one even knows who won the war! I know I didn’t!” shouted Katya. “What was I supposed to learn from this?” she asked.
“Katya, did you ever think it was time for you to flex your muscles?” Oskar asked. “You know a lot of people out there who think like you do. This part of the world is new. You can start a new beginning for everyone still here. Or were you planning on begging for money, stealing clothes off of clothes lines, and eating dinner from a garbage can?”
“Of course not! I plan to rebuild my home. I didn’t leave the old country just to be beat down. I will get my American dream if it takes me the rest of my life.”