The Closet

Chapter 2

“Frank”, Lacy yelled up the stairway of their new (to them) house in Ben Franklin Village outside of Mannheim, Germany. 

“Yes, sweetheart” he yelled back.

Lacy was 37, thin, blond hair and blue eyes, and was the heart of the family. The movers had just come like a whirlwind, unloaded their worldly possessions and left them with a house looking more like a storage facility than a home. Cardboard boxes lined the walls and a few sticks of furniture remained here and there. 

“Where are the boys? Are they up there with you?” called Lacy.

Frank was a handsome 40 year old Army Major. He had made the promotion list for Lieutenant Colonel and could look forward to his promotion in about 9 months, and he had just been assigned to Mannheim, Germany with his family. They had been allotted half of a duplex on Grant Circle. This was the elite housing area for field grade officers (Majors, Lieutenant Colonels, and Colonels) and they were grateful to not have to live in one of the multifamily “stairwells” that were three story walk-ups with 12 families in each. They had their own half-a-yard that they had the freedom to tend and the responsibility to maintain. Their three sons, John, Jarom, and Jason were 15, 14 and 12.  At the moment, the boys were in heaven. Nearly everything that the family owned had been packed up and moved out almost 3 months prior and unpacking was like Christmas. 

“They are” he shouted back.  “I’m not sure if they are helping or hindering the process, but they are emptying the boxes…”

“Aw, Dad” said John, a well-built blond with piercing blue eyes. “We’re helping!” 

“Well, I tell you what”, said Frank, “Flatten out the boxes after you empty them and put away the contents before you open another and it won’t look so much like World War III in here.”

The boys contritely started to flatten out the empty boxes, but in a few moments the pile of toys and clothes and bedding and books on the floor looked more like a landfill than the floor of a bedroom. The house was charitably called a 3 bedroom, with a Master at the end of the hall, a bathroom and a bedroom reminiscent of a bowling alley in the middle, and another bedroom at the other end of the hall. The steep concrete stairs were opposite the door to the bathroom, and a closet was next to the stairway. 

Tiring of folding boxes, Jarom, a thin, sandy haired tough-guy began to explore. There really wasn’t that much exploring that could be done; the house wasn’t that big, but he inspected the master bedroom with its own bath and balcony, and wound up at the hall closet.  The closet door was sticky, and as all the doors in the house were, built of solid wood.  He put one foot on the wall to the side of the door and gave a massive jerk, and when it came loose, he flew across the hallway pushed by the door and his head bounced off the concrete wall on the other side. He slid down the wall seeing stars and Jason, hearing the commotion, ran out of the bedroom to find Jarom lying on the floor, closet door open and body half in the closet. 

“Dad,” he hollered, “Come quick!” 

            Frank came out of the bedroom as half-conscious Jarom was trying to sit up. Blood was running down the left side of his head, his ear an island in a sea of bright red. Frank put firm pressure on the wound with his fingers and began giving orders like an Army officer.  “John, go get a towel and some ice from the refrigerator! Jason, go get your mother!  She’s in the basement!”

            Lacy was indeed in the basement. 10 year-old Allie was with her and they were loading laundry into the washing machine. Allie was tall for her age with beautiful red hair and blue eyes. She was model-thin, or as model thin as a 10 year-old might be.

Jason came flying down the twisting concrete staircase, terror in his blue eyes and his blond hair flying as if it were in a windstorm, screaming, “Mom, Mom….Jarom broke his head open and he’s bleeding everywhere!” 

            With one of her young in danger, Lacy levitated up the stairs.  In five seconds flat she ran up both flights and was kneeling at Jarom’s side.  Frank seemed to have the medical aspect of the emergency in hand and the blood flow had been staunched, but her floorside manner was better than his.  She took Jarom’s hand and kissed his forehead and wondered what had happened.  John arrived with the ice and Frank substituted it for his fingers to try and limit the size of the goose-egg that would surely appear.  Scalp wounds bleed profusely and there seemed to be a split in the skin over the ear.  Pressure was indeed the right treatment, but it would take a couple of stitches to close the wound. 

            Jarom began to speak.  “Mom, I was just trying to open the closet door. It was stuck, and when it came loose, I fell into the wall and hit my head, but I’m okay now.”  Lying there with his head still in the closet, Jarom was in a state of hyper-awareness.  Everything was happening in slow-motion.  The grogginess was gone and he had little to do as everyone fussed over him but to look at the floor of the closet.  He noticed that there were screw heads holding it down as if it could be removed as a single panel.  There were shelves in the closet, but not at the bottom.  It appeared as if a vacuum cleaner and a broom might have been stored there in the past.      

            Frank asked, “Has my medical kit been unpacked yet?”

            John said, “Yeah Dad, I saw it in the living room,” and he was off at a run to retrieve it.  Frank had a grown up on a farm and had a real interest in veterinary medicine as a teenager.  He worked for the local vet and had seen all kinds of injuries.  He had become quite expert at suturing wounds, and as John returned with the medical kit, he found a suture and a needle holder and in a few minutes, had the furry wound shaved and closed with only a minimum of yelping from the patient. They kept a close eye on Jarom for signs of nausea or disorientation that might indicate a concussion, but by the next day he was acting normal with the exception of diminished hearing in his left ear.