came back into my spirit a half-sentiment that
seemed, but was not, remorse, and this lack of regret sentenced me to a hell
beyond any imagined. The Black Cat had taken his revenge!’”
Muddy
stopped knitting. “Is that it?” she asked.
Sissy
flipped the scroll over and found it as Eddy had left it—free of letters.
“Yes, that’s it.” She dropped into her rocking chair and gave her mother a
troubled look.
The
creak of wood called Eddy into the room. His hair stood on end, as if he’d been
pulling it again. “Well?” he asked.
“It is…amusing,”
Sissy said.
Muddy resumed
her knitting. The needles clicked furiously.
“Amusing?”
His eyes turned dull. “Is it not to your liking, Virginia? I worked so hard on
it. I thought for certain—”
She
rose to take his hands. “It was a good story, Edgar. I liked the supernatural
elements. And the main character is sufficiently mad. I’m just not sure of the ending.”
“Did it
not satisfy you?”
“It
lacked your usual…well, your usual severity.”
He let
go of her and crossed to the piano. I nudged his fingers. They remained limp. From
the furrow on his brow, I knew we had more writing ahead of us. “Since the story
is for you, wife,” he said. “I will try again. It must be perfect.”
“Don’t
make it too perfect,” Muddy added. “You need to sell it and make rent.”
Sissy joined
him. “The parts about the cat were realistic.” She tousled the top of my head.
“Perhaps a little too realistic, considering Cattarina’s involvement in the
fire.”
“ Alleged involvement,” Eddy corrected
her. He chucked me under the chin.
“Yes,
yes, alleged. But the ending felt, I don’t know, incomplete, as if the horror
hadn’t run its full course yet.”
“Did
you at least like the beginning? Because I spent—”
A knock
at the door cut him off.
Eddy
left to greet the visitor and returned a moment later, his teeth in full view.
“I have done it, ladies! I have won the Philadelphia
Dollar contest with ‘The Gold Bug.’” He waved the torn envelope, and I
wondered if someone had mailed him a bug and if they had, why it pleased him
so.
“Husband,
I could not be prouder!” Sissy said. She clapped her hands.
Eddy
handed the mail to Muddy and bowed. “Mr. Alburger’s rent, Mrs. Clemm. One
hundred dollars ought to cover it!”
***
The
gold bug turned our lives catawampus, and Eddy forgot about the black cat
story. After the letter, Poe House overflowed with goodness. The first night,
we celebrated with a feast to shame Christmas: corned beef with brown gravy, cod
cakes, potato whip, succotash, cold slaw, rolls, and teacake. I could not
attest to the vegetables or the sweet finish, but the beef and cod were
delicious and their supply plentiful.
In the
following days, Eddy lavished everyone with gifts. Muddy, he bought a brass
soup ladle. He called it a scepter ,
and told the old woman to go forth and rule the kitchen when he gave it to
her. I did not pretend to understand this. Sissy received a new dress to
replace the one she’d burned after burying Snip. Sewn from grey-green silk, the
frock rippled about her frame as she walked, mimicking the current and hue of
the Delaware River. Tiers of bows, crafted from the same fabric, adorned the
skirt hem and neckline. She called it her new town dress. But I thought it more a river dress. Eddy also gave her
a mother-of-pearl cameo that she pinned at her bosom and a red leatherette box
in which to store the trinket.
And me,
he bought the most wonderful gift of all.
One
hot, prickly afternoon, Eddy snuck from the house and left me napping on the
settee. When he returned, he called Muddy and Sissy into the parlor and set a cat-sized
wooden box on the floor in front of me. “Watch and be entertained,” he said to
the women.
Sensing
the chest had been purchased for me, I obliged him and jumped to the floor to
investigate. Wonder of wonders! The smell escaping the interior drove me wild.
seemed, but was not, remorse, and this lack of regret sentenced me to a hell
beyond any imagined. The Black Cat had taken his revenge!’”
Muddy
stopped knitting. “Is that it?” she asked.
Sissy
flipped the scroll over and found it as Eddy had left it—free of letters.
“Yes, that’s it.” She dropped into her rocking chair and gave her mother a
troubled look.
The
creak of wood called Eddy into the room. His hair stood on end, as if he’d been
pulling it again. “Well?” he asked.
“It is…amusing,”
Sissy said.
Muddy resumed
her knitting. The needles clicked furiously.
“Amusing?”
His eyes turned dull. “Is it not to your liking, Virginia? I worked so hard on
it. I thought for certain—”
She
rose to take his hands. “It was a good story, Edgar. I liked the supernatural
elements. And the main character is sufficiently mad. I’m just not sure of the ending.”
“Did it
not satisfy you?”
“It
lacked your usual…well, your usual severity.”
He let
go of her and crossed to the piano. I nudged his fingers. They remained limp. From
the furrow on his brow, I knew we had more writing ahead of us. “Since the story
is for you, wife,” he said. “I will try again. It must be perfect.”
“Don’t
make it too perfect,” Muddy added. “You need to sell it and make rent.”
Sissy joined
him. “The parts about the cat were realistic.” She tousled the top of my head.
“Perhaps a little too realistic, considering Cattarina’s involvement in the
fire.”
“ Alleged involvement,” Eddy corrected
her. He chucked me under the chin.
“Yes,
yes, alleged. But the ending felt, I don’t know, incomplete, as if the horror
hadn’t run its full course yet.”
“Did
you at least like the beginning? Because I spent—”
A knock
at the door cut him off.
Eddy
left to greet the visitor and returned a moment later, his teeth in full view.
“I have done it, ladies! I have won the Philadelphia
Dollar contest with ‘The Gold Bug.’” He waved the torn envelope, and I
wondered if someone had mailed him a bug and if they had, why it pleased him
so.
“Husband,
I could not be prouder!” Sissy said. She clapped her hands.
Eddy
handed the mail to Muddy and bowed. “Mr. Alburger’s rent, Mrs. Clemm. One
hundred dollars ought to cover it!”
***
The
gold bug turned our lives catawampus, and Eddy forgot about the black cat
story. After the letter, Poe House overflowed with goodness. The first night,
we celebrated with a feast to shame Christmas: corned beef with brown gravy, cod
cakes, potato whip, succotash, cold slaw, rolls, and teacake. I could not
attest to the vegetables or the sweet finish, but the beef and cod were
delicious and their supply plentiful.
In the
following days, Eddy lavished everyone with gifts. Muddy, he bought a brass
soup ladle. He called it a scepter ,
and told the old woman to go forth and rule the kitchen when he gave it to
her. I did not pretend to understand this. Sissy received a new dress to
replace the one she’d burned after burying Snip. Sewn from grey-green silk, the
frock rippled about her frame as she walked, mimicking the current and hue of
the Delaware River. Tiers of bows, crafted from the same fabric, adorned the
skirt hem and neckline. She called it her new town dress. But I thought it more a river dress. Eddy also gave her
a mother-of-pearl cameo that she pinned at her bosom and a red leatherette box
in which to store the trinket.
And me,
he bought the most wonderful gift of all.
One
hot, prickly afternoon, Eddy snuck from the house and left me napping on the
settee. When he returned, he called Muddy and Sissy into the parlor and set a cat-sized
wooden box on the floor in front of me. “Watch and be entertained,” he said to
the women.
Sensing
the chest had been purchased for me, I obliged him and jumped to the floor to
investigate. Wonder of wonders! The smell escaping the interior drove me wild.
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