The clock was fifteen minutes away from declaring 'the' time—the time Oto had half heartedly dedicated with cheerless resolution to do dishes every day. Same routine, different days. Same seven days, with same seven names.
Every day, at 4:00pm, she'd dejectedly stir herself from her lounging stance, and with the grievous poise of a hundred mournings, force herself into the kitchen, towards the sink.
The dishes seemed to have multiplied with each glance. "How can they pile up so high in a matter of twenty four hours? Didn't I just clean them yesterday at four?
What did I do apart from fixing last night's dinner, today's breakfast and lunch?" Oto muttered, resentfully murmured, affixed a frown to her permanently forlorn face and began dabbing an overused scrub with dying remnants of a dish washing liquid.
Her kitchen sink, she felt was almost always overpopulated with dishes, cutlery, glasses, bowls, even that tiny spoon she's used to stir sugar in her tea from yesterday nestled between two dirty plates. Everything from her kitchen seemed to live in the sink; wild horses, however couldn't have dragged her to do dishes more than once every day.
Washing dishes, in her opinion was one of the most aggravating and tiresome chores, that one could ever imagine doing.
Oto had on several occasions tried persuading her husband to eat out of disposable dishes and drink out of styrofoam cups, with little success though.
He didn't seem to like the idea of eating and or drinking in disposable things. "doesn't feel like home" he'd said, and she'd cursed under her breath for holding a styrofoam cup instead of a porcelain one, to hurl at his face.
Today was not exceptionally different, except that it was hot. So hot you could scald yourself if you felt wise enough to step outside.
Like every day, today promised to be tediously boring, but at least it wasn't four yet.
Oto threw a cursory glance at her house. Not as dirty, but maybe tomorrow or day after I'll have to do a bit of cleaning. Or maybe next week, if I keep the lights switched off.
She was still shrugging at the thought of cleaning the house like I don't have the added torture of washing dishes every day, when she spotted a budding cobweb near the window.
On closer inspection she realized that her living room windows were a bit on the grimy side, that she couldn't even remember cleaning them last.
Boring, she thought and let her gaze wander outside.
Nothing stirred. It was hot and quiet, and not a soul moved. It was unnaturally calm, and Oto pushed her right cheek to the window pane, straining her vision, to see till the end of row of houses on the left.
Not much luck. Her immediate view was obstructed by a terracotta coloured tile roof, that rose in a Roman style hump outside the window and attached itself to a five foot wide ledge, right below the living room window of her first floor house, which made it impossible to see directly downstairs as well.
So Oto looked outside for signs of life, or a cat or two.
A weekday afternoon promises nothing.
She stared at parked cars outside her house through the silk threads of an up and coming spider web, which she wasn't sure how to deal with.
Mr. Shoopen suddenly materialized in the bored landscape. Not that it was any consolation. He was almost as exciting as her piled dishes.
A benevolent septuagenarian, still fit for his age. She'd often seen him jogging in evenings. An embarrassing contrast to Oto's morose trudge from grocery shopping.
He had that cat of his. The tiny tabby who often spent his evenings sleeping on one of the parked cars outside her window.
He certainly looks happy. She saw Mr. Shoopen waving, and presently three kids, not more than seven years old in school uniforms stopped in front of him.
Oto knew those kids. They lived next door. Neighbours' kids. She strained her memory to remember their names, realized it was too much work, and let it go.
She remembered something from morning. Their house was locked. There was a big brass lock on their door when she took out the trash.
Mr. Shoopen held a bunch of keys in his hand.
"family friends, or maybe guardian to the kids" she guessed, still bored.
The kids looked like they were crying. Two boys, one girl. probably triplets
The kids were crying, though tearless—they looked scared. The girl was almost hysterical, sobbing without sound, the boys looked white as ghosts and they all stared at the smiling Mr. Shoopen.
Mr. Shoopen in return was wagging a finger and showing his false teeth "why the hell is he smiling? the kids look almost ready to run away."
Oto stooped closer to the window, and cleaned the dirty glass pane with her finger to understand their faces better.
The children looked distraught, petrified. Shaking.. Their faces were contoured into a soundless wail, The girl was silently blubbering. Her breath looked broken, her chest heaved rapidly. Her whole body shook in gasps.
"They look terrified".
Their eyes were wide with horror and they looked afraid and panic-stricken.
"Were they chased by a dog?" Oto pushed her right cheek against the window pane and strained harder to see what was it they were scared of.
View was still obstructed.
Mr. Shoopen held the children by their wrists now and led them towards their house, keys in hand— still smiling, the kids bawling in mute; reluctant to even walk.
She couldn't see them once they disappeared under the ledge, but heard shuffling footsteps on the stairs.
"What the hell is going on?" Oto was suddenly scared.
Barefoot, she ran to the door noiselessly and glued her eye to the peephole.
Mr. Shoopen and the three kids were there alright. Standing in front of her neighbour's door. The children were struggling to pry their wrists free from the old man.
He gripped the wrists of two children in his right hand, and the third in his left like a trap. He was strong. His arms that looked frail and veiny, were suddenly muscular and strong; the benevolent Mr. Shoopen uncovered his most menacing smile, and with a quick jerk of his foot pushed open the door.
"The door was already unlocked. All he had to do was push it open with his foot." Oto spoke in hushed terror to herself. He must've unlocked it before. Sometime this morning.
"He'd already planned this?" Oto could feel her heart thumping through her finger tips.
She unlocked her window pane and pulled it up. Unhinged the wire mesh that was meant to keep insects from entering open windows and let it slide out.
It didn't fall. There was a five foot wide ledge, right below the window.
She grabbed her pair of long forgotten running shoes.
Cautiously, without losing a moment, Oto climbed out of the open window, one leg after another.
"I'm outside".
It felt funny, being able to peep into your own house from outside..standing on a ledge no less.
A few steps ahead was the triangular shaped Roman hump, covered with tiles. The blasted obstruction.
Beyond that, the ledge continued, and from there she'd have easy access to the neighbours' living room window, through which she could climb into their house.
The tiled Roman triangular hump was more of a facade than a roof, to give the building a villa styled look..not more than three feet tall. It wouldn't be difficult to climb.
Easier said than done. These were clay roof tiles, and how does on climb them without slipping.
"Here goes nothing".
Oto put one leg on the tiles, steadied herself, balanced by clutching on the tiles and heaved herself up, and in three large steps she was sitting on the top.
"Climbing down without slipping or breaking these tiles is going to be a problem. The only way to be noiseless about this is to jump directly on the ledge."
She was still deciding how to go about it when she suddenly found herself jumping. Noiselessly enough.
A few step ahead and their living room window was on the left.
Crouching slowly, she knelt down under their window. In slow movements of exaggerated caution she let a fraction of her head tilt sideways to peek through the glass panes.
There was a steady noise that wouldn't stop. Her heart, she could hear it through her head, thumping aloud in her ears. A vein felt ready to pop in her forehead, a bead of sweat ran down to her chin and started pooling, gathering more perspiration..forming a bulge..ready to drop.
Their living room was neat..much cleaner than her house ever was. The television, the coffee table, the small bookcase sparkled with a speckless sheen.
The walnut coloured wooden floor was unblemished.
With each loud thump of her heart, her vision cleared. Eyes darting floor to ceiling.
She saw the white sofa, the gigantic television, mounted speakers, glass cabinets stuffed with alcohol, an air purifier next to the sofa, a stack of books piling under the coffee table, a crystal ash tray..but no kids.
A difficult realization knocked against her teeth. "What if Mr. Shoopen's led them to another room?
I'll never be able to reach another room through a window. The ledge ends here"
The bulging bead of sweat plopped on the concrete below.
Squinting her eyes, hoping to see a bit more, Oto saw the kitchen.
Never realized one could see kitchen from this window.
"What was that?"
She spotted vague reflections on a kitchen cabinet that was distant but fell straight in her vision. It was difficult to understand. The cabinet faced her sideways, but the glass panels were clean enough to reflect shadows in profiles..or so she thought
Her eyes darted to the right, to ascertain where these shadows came from..and realized with some relief that the children were there alright. Sitting on the floor, her view obstructed by a large showcase. From the spaces between the wooden shelves in the showcase she could see their faces. They were in tears, they were crying. They were sobbing, she couldn't hear them, but it was not difficult to make out that they were bawling, and their eyes were looking up.
"where?"
She saw a hand emerge from behind the thick wooden paneling of the showcase and roughly pinch a crying boy's face.
Oto couldn't see it, but Mr. Shoopen seemed to be standing in front of them.
"Doing what?" she didn't want to imagine.
"Now's the time"
She tried to snatch out the wire mesh from the window.
It was locked from inside.
A hand was tugging at a child's tie, unbuttoning a girl's shirt.
A large shirt fell to the floor.
Oto knelt down on the ledge, crouched, and walked back to the tiled facade roof.
Climbed it, jumped it and walked to her open window. Climbing back in to her house, she ran to the forgotten kitchen sink, ignored the dirty pile of dishes and fished out a large cast iron skillet that was still oily from this morning's breakfast.
Bits of cooked eggs stuck to its sides, the bottom was orange with rust. It was heavy, and that's all that mattered.
Oto opened her door, walked towards the door in front and rang the bell.
There was no answer for a while.
Patiently she stood and softly knocked again.
"Just a minute, coming" an unhurried, tender voice came out wafting.
"Coming, coming" it said again, and the subdued sounds of approaching footstep stopped near the door.
"No doubt, peeping" she muttered, and curved her lips in a neighbourly smile.
The sound of locks unlocking, Oto tightened her the grip on the iron skillet handle.
"Can I help you?" he couldn't complete the sentence, when something heavy smashed him square in the face.
She felt the squelching noise of his nose breaking, vibrate through the iron handle. In the second that Oto lifted up the heavy skillet to bring it back down on his face a second time, she noticed the orange brown stain that the rusted bottom of the pan had left on his benevolent features.
"Gotta wash my utensils better", she brought down the skillet with another heavy handed blow.
Mr. Shoopen was staggering back, clutching at air for support, trying to defy gravity. She clouted him again and again and again, till he was on the floor.
Shielding his face with both hands, there were small rivulets of blood pouring down his face. He had assumed a foetal position, and didn't look like he'd be able to stand up for a while, a few hours, a few days.
"Always best to ensure". She kicked him in the ribs, a couple well formed blows in his back and a few more knocks with her skillet were insurance enough.
The loud thump was deafening. It seemed to have crept out of her chest to dance in front of her eyes. Her heart was knocking against her teeth, and the sweat had begun to pool again.
Oto found the children in a bedroom. Mouths taped shut, hands tied behind their back, shirts undone. Tear tracks on their cheeks, red faced and swollen eyed.
They'd recognized her.
The next few hours were a blur of activity.
The police had been called. Mr. Shoopen had been restrained with the same chords that he's used to tie up the children. Traveling parents had been informed of their benevolent babysitter and the three children now sat in Oto's house.
Still in shock, still in tears. The children were sobbing uncontrollably, but they were safe.
"Your parents will be here soon" Oto tried to calm them.
"Would you like some milk?"
A unanimous nod made her smile.
She walked into her kitchen and scowled at her sink.
Mile high pile, disheveled and chaotic from being unnaturally disturbed when she'd pulled out a heavy skillet.
She fished out three styrofoam cups from the crumpled remains of cluttered disposables from her kitchen drawer.
It was almost 4:00 pm, Oto sighed and poured them milk.
Every day, at 4:00pm, she'd dejectedly stir herself from her lounging stance, and with the grievous poise of a hundred mournings, force herself into the kitchen, towards the sink.
The dishes seemed to have multiplied with each glance. "How can they pile up so high in a matter of twenty four hours? Didn't I just clean them yesterday at four?
What did I do apart from fixing last night's dinner, today's breakfast and lunch?" Oto muttered, resentfully murmured, affixed a frown to her permanently forlorn face and began dabbing an overused scrub with dying remnants of a dish washing liquid.
Her kitchen sink, she felt was almost always overpopulated with dishes, cutlery, glasses, bowls, even that tiny spoon she's used to stir sugar in her tea from yesterday nestled between two dirty plates. Everything from her kitchen seemed to live in the sink; wild horses, however couldn't have dragged her to do dishes more than once every day.
Washing dishes, in her opinion was one of the most aggravating and tiresome chores, that one could ever imagine doing.
Oto had on several occasions tried persuading her husband to eat out of disposable dishes and drink out of styrofoam cups, with little success though.
He didn't seem to like the idea of eating and or drinking in disposable things. "doesn't feel like home" he'd said, and she'd cursed under her breath for holding a styrofoam cup instead of a porcelain one, to hurl at his face.
Today was not exceptionally different, except that it was hot. So hot you could scald yourself if you felt wise enough to step outside.
Like every day, today promised to be tediously boring, but at least it wasn't four yet.
Oto threw a cursory glance at her house. Not as dirty, but maybe tomorrow or day after I'll have to do a bit of cleaning. Or maybe next week, if I keep the lights switched off.
She was still shrugging at the thought of cleaning the house like I don't have the added torture of washing dishes every day, when she spotted a budding cobweb near the window.
On closer inspection she realized that her living room windows were a bit on the grimy side, that she couldn't even remember cleaning them last.
Boring, she thought and let her gaze wander outside.
Nothing stirred. It was hot and quiet, and not a soul moved. It was unnaturally calm, and Oto pushed her right cheek to the window pane, straining her vision, to see till the end of row of houses on the left.
Not much luck. Her immediate view was obstructed by a terracotta coloured tile roof, that rose in a Roman style hump outside the window and attached itself to a five foot wide ledge, right below the living room window of her first floor house, which made it impossible to see directly downstairs as well.
So Oto looked outside for signs of life, or a cat or two.
A weekday afternoon promises nothing.
She stared at parked cars outside her house through the silk threads of an up and coming spider web, which she wasn't sure how to deal with.
Mr. Shoopen suddenly materialized in the bored landscape. Not that it was any consolation. He was almost as exciting as her piled dishes.
A benevolent septuagenarian, still fit for his age. She'd often seen him jogging in evenings. An embarrassing contrast to Oto's morose trudge from grocery shopping.
He had that cat of his. The tiny tabby who often spent his evenings sleeping on one of the parked cars outside her window.
He certainly looks happy. She saw Mr. Shoopen waving, and presently three kids, not more than seven years old in school uniforms stopped in front of him.
Oto knew those kids. They lived next door. Neighbours' kids. She strained her memory to remember their names, realized it was too much work, and let it go.
She remembered something from morning. Their house was locked. There was a big brass lock on their door when she took out the trash.
Mr. Shoopen held a bunch of keys in his hand.
"family friends, or maybe guardian to the kids" she guessed, still bored.
The kids looked like they were crying. Two boys, one girl. probably triplets
The kids were crying, though tearless—they looked scared. The girl was almost hysterical, sobbing without sound, the boys looked white as ghosts and they all stared at the smiling Mr. Shoopen.
Mr. Shoopen in return was wagging a finger and showing his false teeth "why the hell is he smiling? the kids look almost ready to run away."
Oto stooped closer to the window, and cleaned the dirty glass pane with her finger to understand their faces better.
The children looked distraught, petrified. Shaking.. Their faces were contoured into a soundless wail, The girl was silently blubbering. Her breath looked broken, her chest heaved rapidly. Her whole body shook in gasps.
"They look terrified".
Their eyes were wide with horror and they looked afraid and panic-stricken.
"Were they chased by a dog?" Oto pushed her right cheek against the window pane and strained harder to see what was it they were scared of.
View was still obstructed.
Mr. Shoopen held the children by their wrists now and led them towards their house, keys in hand— still smiling, the kids bawling in mute; reluctant to even walk.
She couldn't see them once they disappeared under the ledge, but heard shuffling footsteps on the stairs.
"What the hell is going on?" Oto was suddenly scared.
Barefoot, she ran to the door noiselessly and glued her eye to the peephole.
Mr. Shoopen and the three kids were there alright. Standing in front of her neighbour's door. The children were struggling to pry their wrists free from the old man.
He gripped the wrists of two children in his right hand, and the third in his left like a trap. He was strong. His arms that looked frail and veiny, were suddenly muscular and strong; the benevolent Mr. Shoopen uncovered his most menacing smile, and with a quick jerk of his foot pushed open the door.
"The door was already unlocked. All he had to do was push it open with his foot." Oto spoke in hushed terror to herself. He must've unlocked it before. Sometime this morning.
"He'd already planned this?" Oto could feel her heart thumping through her finger tips.
She unlocked her window pane and pulled it up. Unhinged the wire mesh that was meant to keep insects from entering open windows and let it slide out.
It didn't fall. There was a five foot wide ledge, right below the window.
She grabbed her pair of long forgotten running shoes.
Cautiously, without losing a moment, Oto climbed out of the open window, one leg after another.
"I'm outside".
It felt funny, being able to peep into your own house from outside..standing on a ledge no less.
A few steps ahead was the triangular shaped Roman hump, covered with tiles. The blasted obstruction.
Beyond that, the ledge continued, and from there she'd have easy access to the neighbours' living room window, through which she could climb into their house.
The tiled Roman triangular hump was more of a facade than a roof, to give the building a villa styled look..not more than three feet tall. It wouldn't be difficult to climb.
Easier said than done. These were clay roof tiles, and how does on climb them without slipping.
"Here goes nothing".
Oto put one leg on the tiles, steadied herself, balanced by clutching on the tiles and heaved herself up, and in three large steps she was sitting on the top.
"Climbing down without slipping or breaking these tiles is going to be a problem. The only way to be noiseless about this is to jump directly on the ledge."
She was still deciding how to go about it when she suddenly found herself jumping. Noiselessly enough.
A few step ahead and their living room window was on the left.
Crouching slowly, she knelt down under their window. In slow movements of exaggerated caution she let a fraction of her head tilt sideways to peek through the glass panes.
There was a steady noise that wouldn't stop. Her heart, she could hear it through her head, thumping aloud in her ears. A vein felt ready to pop in her forehead, a bead of sweat ran down to her chin and started pooling, gathering more perspiration..forming a bulge..ready to drop.
Their living room was neat..much cleaner than her house ever was. The television, the coffee table, the small bookcase sparkled with a speckless sheen.
The walnut coloured wooden floor was unblemished.
With each loud thump of her heart, her vision cleared. Eyes darting floor to ceiling.
She saw the white sofa, the gigantic television, mounted speakers, glass cabinets stuffed with alcohol, an air purifier next to the sofa, a stack of books piling under the coffee table, a crystal ash tray..but no kids.
A difficult realization knocked against her teeth. "What if Mr. Shoopen's led them to another room?
I'll never be able to reach another room through a window. The ledge ends here"
The bulging bead of sweat plopped on the concrete below.
Squinting her eyes, hoping to see a bit more, Oto saw the kitchen.
Never realized one could see kitchen from this window.
"What was that?"
She spotted vague reflections on a kitchen cabinet that was distant but fell straight in her vision. It was difficult to understand. The cabinet faced her sideways, but the glass panels were clean enough to reflect shadows in profiles..or so she thought
Her eyes darted to the right, to ascertain where these shadows came from..and realized with some relief that the children were there alright. Sitting on the floor, her view obstructed by a large showcase. From the spaces between the wooden shelves in the showcase she could see their faces. They were in tears, they were crying. They were sobbing, she couldn't hear them, but it was not difficult to make out that they were bawling, and their eyes were looking up.
"where?"
She saw a hand emerge from behind the thick wooden paneling of the showcase and roughly pinch a crying boy's face.
Oto couldn't see it, but Mr. Shoopen seemed to be standing in front of them.
"Doing what?" she didn't want to imagine.
"Now's the time"
She tried to snatch out the wire mesh from the window.
It was locked from inside.
A hand was tugging at a child's tie, unbuttoning a girl's shirt.
A large shirt fell to the floor.
Oto knelt down on the ledge, crouched, and walked back to the tiled facade roof.
Climbed it, jumped it and walked to her open window. Climbing back in to her house, she ran to the forgotten kitchen sink, ignored the dirty pile of dishes and fished out a large cast iron skillet that was still oily from this morning's breakfast.
Bits of cooked eggs stuck to its sides, the bottom was orange with rust. It was heavy, and that's all that mattered.
Oto opened her door, walked towards the door in front and rang the bell.
There was no answer for a while.
Patiently she stood and softly knocked again.
"Just a minute, coming" an unhurried, tender voice came out wafting.
"Coming, coming" it said again, and the subdued sounds of approaching footstep stopped near the door.
"No doubt, peeping" she muttered, and curved her lips in a neighbourly smile.
The sound of locks unlocking, Oto tightened her the grip on the iron skillet handle.
"Can I help you?" he couldn't complete the sentence, when something heavy smashed him square in the face.
She felt the squelching noise of his nose breaking, vibrate through the iron handle. In the second that Oto lifted up the heavy skillet to bring it back down on his face a second time, she noticed the orange brown stain that the rusted bottom of the pan had left on his benevolent features.
"Gotta wash my utensils better", she brought down the skillet with another heavy handed blow.
Mr. Shoopen was staggering back, clutching at air for support, trying to defy gravity. She clouted him again and again and again, till he was on the floor.
Shielding his face with both hands, there were small rivulets of blood pouring down his face. He had assumed a foetal position, and didn't look like he'd be able to stand up for a while, a few hours, a few days.
"Always best to ensure". She kicked him in the ribs, a couple well formed blows in his back and a few more knocks with her skillet were insurance enough.
The loud thump was deafening. It seemed to have crept out of her chest to dance in front of her eyes. Her heart was knocking against her teeth, and the sweat had begun to pool again.
Oto found the children in a bedroom. Mouths taped shut, hands tied behind their back, shirts undone. Tear tracks on their cheeks, red faced and swollen eyed.
They'd recognized her.
The next few hours were a blur of activity.
The police had been called. Mr. Shoopen had been restrained with the same chords that he's used to tie up the children. Traveling parents had been informed of their benevolent babysitter and the three children now sat in Oto's house.
Still in shock, still in tears. The children were sobbing uncontrollably, but they were safe.
"Your parents will be here soon" Oto tried to calm them.
"Would you like some milk?"
A unanimous nod made her smile.
She walked into her kitchen and scowled at her sink.
Mile high pile, disheveled and chaotic from being unnaturally disturbed when she'd pulled out a heavy skillet.
She fished out three styrofoam cups from the crumpled remains of cluttered disposables from her kitchen drawer.
It was almost 4:00 pm, Oto sighed and poured them milk.
