Edie Eicas: Long-Range Weather Forecast

A Short Story

Lennox Walker’s long-range weather forecast held no joy. The Miller family looked despondently at one another recognising the reality they prayed for would not materialize. No rescue for the farm in the grip of drought, Walker’s predictions promised more of the same: the El Nino weather pattern had set in and things were going to get worse.

Kathy felt the tension between her parents as her father looked helplessly at the radio. His anxiety over his inability to control their future transmitted itself acutely. She knew they would face another lament as her father saw their history slipping from his grasp. Seeking relief, she opened the kitchen door and walked out onto the back veranda. Looking out to the stand of trees covered by the silver of a full moon, she reflected on her future; the farm, the only life she knew. Her heart ached over the changes that had stripped life from the land; gone the green, replaced with red; the soil parched and only the last, strongest plants holding onto hope. As she stood reflecting on her options, the wind, which had once brought relief, swirled around the homestead. Now a thief, it stripped more from the farm carrying with it yet another layer of top soil.

The weather on everyone’s lips meant constant questioning and filled the last six months with concern. All who crossed paths were interrogated over the possibility of a break in the drought. Information gleaned from every encounter and medium, stored for reference and shared later around the dinner table to add more to the ongoing theme: how to get the best out of what was left.

The stock cut back to the bare minimum; the family held the place together with just prayer. The boys had left long ago as the work diminished and tension mounted with their father. Only Kathy the youngest was left to help, but now, the future loomed dire leaving her no other decision but to find a job in the city. She knew it was time to leave the nest. At eighteen, her experience defined by the country surrounding her, and with few skills beyond the farm, she did not relish the move outside her sphere. But she knew she was one of many, the country diaspora, in search of new employment.

Through a network of friends and acquaintances, a room was provided in the city and the search for gainful employment begun. After a few false starts a position was found in the employ of a judge who sought a housekeeper.

Life had become chaotic for the judge. A fire had broken out in the house and an accident had left him with back pain, a dull constant ache reminding him of his loss of control. As his rein on order slipped from his grasp, his house also fell to the chaos surrounding him. His housekeeper had left and all who came to his employ, seemed to be but transient figures leaving within a couple of months of starting. Patience had deserted him, as age and pain brought out irritation and frustration and parts of his personality began to slip his grasp adding to the tension that now seemed to surround him.

Seeking help, he asked friends if they knew of someone interested in housekeeping. In asking the question, so appeared the answer, and an old friend made mention of Kathy and an interview arranged.

At first, the judge appeared sceptical an eighteen year old would be sufficiently mature to handle the responsibilities but, without another avenue, he dismissed the casual cleaners and explained her duties. Single and compulsive, he demanded the family mansion, too large for one living alone, be cleaned in a manner he prescribed. Over compensating for the chaos surrounding him, and by nature difficult, he detailed the specifics of his requirements. As they walked through the rooms, he pointedly looked at Kathy seeking confirmation she understood the importance of his demands. Nervous and repetitive, he showed through his attention to detail, his need for control; the label ‘anal-retentive’ given him behind his back meant to warn those in his employ.

The house, a shrine to the past, detailed the history of its predecessors though paintings, sculptures and furniture. Different rooms contained the signature of a particular individual who had claimed it as their own and, while little had changed in some rooms, others declared the imprint of technology and the toys the judge deemed useful for his existence. Walking Kathy through the house, commissioning his expectations, he hoped yet again, rescue was at hand. Dependent in this arena, he sought escape from the pressure of the house, and longed for the order of the past that seemed now to elude him.

The epitome of a ‘country girl’ solid, plain and mousey, Kathy appeared to exude an aura of competency as she followed him around asking questions and noting his demands. Leaving her with lists of contacts and expectations, he hoped this young girl could fulfil his requirements. Unconvinced, he felt he had little choice even though she came with glowing references: able, honest and competent.

At first, Kathy, frightened by his demeanour, provided all negotiated with a touch of anxiety but later, as she found her rhythm and the jobs became habits, apprehension relaxed its grip. As order stripped the dust from the corners, she began to explore. Curiosity and boredom led her to open the first cupboard in the kitchen. Although the surfaces had been dusted by a succession of cleaners, nothing behind closed doors had been touched. Pulling everything out to reorganise and clean, her methodical nature found an outlet. 

Slowly as time permitted, Kathy extended her range. As each room found order, she moved to the next and began again the challenge to install discipline in what appeared years of neglect. Each cupboard opened, revealed shelves stuffed to capacity. The judge’s history was crammed into any space he found available; belying the spurious order of the outside, the cupboards hid the disorder within.

As the months progressed, the judge witnessed a change. Books left in piles found their places back to the library shelves, and his CD collection now stood in alphabetical arrangement, the loose CDs finally in their covers. While the judge appreciated the arrangements that facilitated easy access and choice, later, offence grew at her gall at reorganizing other parts of his house.

Over time as she dusted and familiarity grew, Kathy began to move objects around the rooms; arranging them in groups by colour or theme. At first a small move, but as courage and initiative took hold, she became bolder. Photographs arranged on the sideboard were now themed by the silver of their frames and surrounded by slivers of silver in snuffboxes and letter openers. Other objects moved to groups more in tune with their subject matter.

A game of change and resentment brought the movement of pieces to and fro and, like a chess game, some pieces moved forward while others back. At first, the judge would return the items to their places, angry at her audacity. Then in frustration, he would remove the object from her grasp, hiding it in a cupboard or replacing it with another sculpture or piece of glass.

When Kathy grouped memorabilia related to horses on a table under the study window  ̶  a cup won, a photograph, a plaque and a whip – she came back to find  the whip removed and those items left, rearranged. As he reclaimed a room, she would shrug, vexed, but move on to where she could add her signature. Then, each night after one of her days in the house, when the judge returned, he would open the door and like a stalker, begin his search for her intrusion.

Although the tension mounted, the judge could not deny the impact Kathy made on his life. Order in his house allowed him some relief from the stress that seemed to dog him still. Things were easier to find as logic dictated where bits and pieces should be stored. Now the laundry and kitchen cupboards revealed their contents easily. Grouped and placed at his convenience, he found the batteries he sought, or the shoe polish he bought in bulk, as he misplaced yet another can.

His wardrobe now ordered by jackets, pants, suits and shirts, all cleaned and neatly colour coded, meant easy access to his clothes. Thus, the morning torture of choice made easier. Then, after a long day, as he stepped through the door to find the house pristine, glowing and ordered, pleasure would sweep over him and he would sink into the comforting feeling and relax. Unable to sack her, for although she intruded, she brought what had long evaded him, and so he moved to stoically accept her as a necessary evil in his life.

Later, as he saw the complement in design or colour she offered, he would return the piece he had snatched earlier, or add another acknowledging awareness of the style she was imposing. Theirs became a game that eventually subsided into a dance of display. As she moved and he moved pieces around, they finally found creativity and new pleasure in the juxtaposition of shape, colour or composition.

Notes left commented on arrangements, and allowances made that she offer more to his environment. Flowers found their way into bowls and vases as the garden came into her providence. Slowly order crept further afield and soon the judge too became more a participator in the transformations.

As spring heralded change, so he too brought his interest back to the house and a gardener given instruction to add colour to parts long overlooked. Inspired, the judge purchased new pieces of art and Kathy, watching from afar and enveloped in proprietorial pleasure, shared his delight in his home.

Change also brought Kathy the need to spring clean further, and she began to dig into the judge’s personal sphere. The spare bedroom he used at different times for visitors now targeted and the drawers emptied into the middle of the room. Hidden amongst the detritus she found a series of magazines. Looking to categorize them and place them in his library, Kathy opened one to find herself confronted by the performance of a porno starlet.

In shock and blushing, she quickly stacked the magazines and, looking over her shoulder, returned them to the back of the drawer. Where the farm had taught her independence, as situations could change dramatically, she now regretted the liberty taken. Caught by embarrassment, feeling vulnerable and privy to too much, she wished she had never started. Having grown up with two older brothers, she wondered at her response.

From the moment of discovery, the relationship between herself and her employer took another turn. Caught by the knowledge that a darker side lurked in his life, that he was more than the one-dimensional figure that imposed himself upon the vignettes she arranged, she suddenly felt his presence. Where once she ranged free in the house now his presence intruded, and the judge’s secret and personal side became a siren song to Kathy.

Piqued, she gave more attention, not to the art, but now the judge’s private life came under scrutiny. Details once overlooked became a source for speculation. Cups that appeared over the weekend and littered the kitchen were checked for lipstick marks before being deposited into the dishwasher. Then, before vacuuming, she would check the thick pile of the carpet looking for heel marks in the different rooms.

A compulsive element began to impose itself as she watched for signs of women entering the judge’s domain. Soon, she noted further intrusions that suggested intimacies. Irritated, she jealousy judged the signs of his feminine encounters. Slowly a possessive quality came into play, and each time Kathy entered the house, she became the stalker checking for signs of intrusion.

Disorder once again became a part of the judge’s life, this time one equated with pleasure and not chaos. The house became the judge’s stage as he sought to seduce those who crossed his threshold. The changing spectacle announced a succession of women entertained by the judge. Some came and went, just sexual sport and gone quickly. Others lingered, and ever hopeful, would leave a calling card, something personal, but not too expensive in the hope of returning to collect the ‘forgotten’ item. Finding these declarations of possession, and feeling offended, Kathy threw them into the rubbish bin.

While cleaning up after one of the judge’s busy weekends, the phone rang and, preoccupied, she answered. Greeted by a woman’s voice enquiring after the judge brought Kathy to attention. Suggesting the woman ring his chambers, Kathy also asked if there was any message. Replacing the phone and annoyed by the confidence in the woman’s voice, Kathy moved about the house unsettled and uncomfortable.

Stomach churning and seeking relief from her irritation, the master bedroom became the object of Kathy’s attention. At first, her embarrassment over the discovery of the magazines had stalled her venturing further into the judge’s private domain, but now other motives propelled her. Bedside drawers spilled their contents onto the floor as she began to order and pry. Rejecting the accumulated rubbish meant more room and symmetry.

Change brought pleasure to her eye, but opportunity as drawers opened to disgorge their contents of photos, clothes and odds. As she sat sorting the photographs into boxes, she examined the judge’s past, and with a feeling of entitlement and intimacy, inspected his life a little closer. Soon a potted history revealed the judge through family gatherings and special moments that recorded his childhood. Then, as an adult free to indulge in travel, cars and women, another aspect of his life was revealed. Laying out the photos of the women who had peopled his life, Kathy examined each and judged the person captured by time. To her critical eye it was obvious that none suited him. This one carried a pinched mouth, another looked bored, while others revealed their dislike and disinterest in other ways.

As she emptied the last of the drawers onto the floor, videos and more magazines were revealed under old polo shirts. Gathering the magazines she no longer blushed at their contents but curious, slowly flipped the pages allowing herself the privilege of indulging in the images. Examining the pictures, she realised the judge had a fetish, and the whip she had placed out on the study table, which had disappeared so quickly, was in fact a prop for the games he liked to play.

‘Oh!’ she exclaimed as the penny dropped and a flush of pleasure moved through her body. Replacing all she found to the back of the drawer, she covered them with the shirts and continued her duties satisfied by her discovery. As the weeks went by and time permitted, she returned to the secret cache and revisited the images, pouring over them, fascinated.

For the judge, his life with a succession of women continued for a number of months then disappeared as suddenly as it had started. Summer over, change was heralded with darkening skies. The flush of different colours in the garden announced autumn as the house returned to its emptied life with the judge left alone to leave the litter that stated bachelor.

Time on her hands and bored, Kathy wandered back to the judge’s private world and retrieved the videos from their hiding place. In her private revelry, she mimicked the faces and postures of the women and noted their attitude, fascinated by the confidence of the women, and the expression of their sexuality.

Life for the judge lost its spark. No longer propelled to work the long hours that once captured his time, the house called him, and he retreated to spend weekends wrapped in newspapers and solitude. Slowly a new interest came to dominate his life and cookbooks became the addition and motivation to initiate a vegetable garden.

His home a place much changed drew him back, for what he once considered a burden had become a pleasure. Now a sanctuary stripped of its chaos and made orderly, he no longer sought escape but found in its peace, a refuge. The constant pressure and agitation of his job lay in contrast to his home, and when time permitted, he would make an early escape to the simple joy of cooking and the pleasures of his garden.

Coming home and caught by the light of the video the judge stopped, his breath trapped in his chest. Like the rabbit startled and caught by the spotlight he could not move. Here revealed on the screen was his dark side, his sexuality. From shock to explosion, it took but a few seconds. ‘How dare you!’ His powerful voice thundered the accusation that could not be answered.

Kathy spun around, her face flushed red with shame. Caught in the act of a voyeur, she had no place to hide. Mouth open, she stood frozen in guilt.

His rage contained and face white, the judge lunged at her and grabbed the remote control turning off the television. ‘Young lady, your position with me is terminated. If you tell me how much I owe you, I can settle your wages. I think we have nothing further to discuss.’ He turned on his heel and walked from the room.

If the judge had waited a moment while he stood behind Kathy, if he had not spoken out so quickly in his haste to hide his shame, he may have observed her differently. Rather than focus on himself, had he extended his view, he would have seen something that could have changed the course of their relationship.

For instead of revulsion at what was revealed on the screen, the innocent girl who had come to him from the country had developed a taste for the delights of his fantasies. At first disgusted and disapproving, she had refused to contemplate what she had seen. Later, as time and curiosity caught her interest, she had gone back to the hiding places and pulled the magazines out. The clothes caught her first; the black leather bustier called her to attention, shiny and made to flatter the woman’s body, was made to reveal breasts and entice. Each photograph that captured the look of pleasure on the young women’s faces, tempting the onlooker to participate in what was on offer, also tempted her.

Now the fantasy to look like the girls pervaded her life. Given an image to strive for, she began to lose weight and by increment, her hair went from mousey brown to short blonde and spiked. Makeup also became an enhancement, and her clothes slowly changed from country practical to city and sexy.

Where the magazines gave Kathy the images that brought the inducement to her physical change, the videos became her seducers. The girls on the screen looked powerful and seductive, appearing to have all she lacked and she hungered for the control they seemed to wield.

Later, the bondage playing out on the screen also found appeal. Reading both the pain and pleasure in the faces of the men gave her a jolt of recognition. No longer the innocent, Kathy burnt inside with the desire to experience that which she could only see in the videos.

If the judge had stopped and watched, he would have seen her body move with growing desire and seen in her an eager response to those on the screen. For here in front of him stood the young country girl metamorphosed into the partner who wanted to mete out all that he so secretly desired.