Grandma's Fire
My six-year-old sister, Heather, and I sat in the back of an airport shuttle van on the way to Grandma’s house. In my twelve years of life, that was the first time Heather and I were alone in the world. The road up the snowy hill side was littered with potholes and divots, making for a bumpy ride. At one point, the van bounced violently enough that my duffle bag flew off my knees and onto the floor. I quickly picked it up and squeezed it tight. Any time I’m nervous, keeping Dad’s olive-green, duffle bag—which he acquired during a tour to Vietnam—close calms my nerves. I missed him more than I can describe.
Heather and I were still mourning having lost our parents only a week prior. Coincidentally, they careened off the road and drowned in an icy river on their way back from Grandma’s house. They were driving a rental car that they weren’t familiar with because they had flown up to Montana for Grandpa’s funeral. He had died a week prior to that from a heart attack. We were on our way to live with Grandma as she was our last living relative.
Why was I so nervous? Well, we had only met my father’s parents once or twice. His relationship with them was strange and never clearly explained to us. The only thing that he ever said was that he didn’t get along with his parents very well, and that they had no interest in being a part of our lives. I heard them arguing before travelling to Grandpa’s funeral, and mother insisted on going with him despite feeling unwelcome. That’s why they went to Grandpa’s funeral without us.
The sun was shining bright, causing the white snow on the hills and Douglas Firs to glisten. The forests were raining snow clumps that slid off tree branches as they melted. There were snowcapped mountains on the horizon in all directions. Tears filled my eyes when we paralleled the Missouri River where my parents had died. Eventually, we turned onto a dirt road that was muddy from melted snow. We drove down the road for about a half mile before reaching Grandma’s house. We had no idea what to expect during that drive into the hills.
I held Heather’s hand as the van came to a stop and the driver opened the door for us. I climbed out first, leading my sister toward the front door. The house was a yellowy-orange log cabin. It looked beautiful, surrounded by a pine forest and white snow. Seemed cozy, though we would discover it was anything but.
Grandma opened the front door to greet us. I didn’t remember her looking so old, but despite her white hair and excessive wrinkles, she stood in the doorway without a cane or walker. She didn’t smile or speak to us for several seconds. We just stared at one another as the driver set our luggage down next to us, and drove back down the driveway. It was a far cry from the heartfelt reunion one would expect from a grandmother.
Heather squeezed my hand tight while standing behind me. We both felt unwelcome.
“I haven’t seen you children in quite some time,” she said with an accent I didn’t recognize as a child, but she did finally crack a smile. “Do you want to stand there in the cold, or would you like to come in and see your rooms?”
The snow crunched beneath our shoes as we grabbed our bags and walked through the front door. The tennis shoes I wore weren’t for snow, so my feet were cold and soggy. Grandma turned around and walked down a hallway rather than greet us with a hug.
As we stepped inside and shut the door behind us, Grandma turned around and pointed at our feet. “Take your shoes off at the door and leave them on the mat. You’ll be held accountable for any damn snow melting and deforming the hardwood.”
We took our shoes off and made sure there was no snow on the wood floors after her intimidating comment. When my grandparents on my mother’s side were alive, I had no memories of them cursing at us. From our first impressions of Grandma, we knew something was off.
The entrance gave way to a large den with a raised, peaked ceiling. It was dark due to the grand fireplace made out of large, rustic stones, and it didn’t help that she had the windows covered with dark curtains. There was a recliner in front of the fireplace, and a leather couch against the wall on the right side of the room. All the furniture looked old, as well as the television in the left corner that wasn’t even a flat screen.
She showed us to our rooms that were across from one another in the hallway. She insisted that we have separate rooms, even though Heather wanted to stay with me. There wasn’t much space anyway, as the beds in each room were just doubles. There were ornate, wooden nightstands and a dresser. None of the decor was for children, and there were no toys to speak of.
“I’ll let you two get settled in. After nightfall, I expect you both to be in your rooms with the doors shut. We take privacy very seriously in this house. We must respect my wishes. I will call to you when dinner is ready. I hope you like Bratwurst,” Grandma said in an authoritative tone.
I noticed Heather’s nose scrunch up because it sounded disgusting to her. “It’s just sausage, Heather,” I said. Her expression turned to a smirk as she realized she didn’t mind sausage.
Grandma bent over and put her finger under Heather’s chin to lift her head. She stared into my sister’s eyes to make sure her words were understood. “Whether you like it or not, you eat the food we have. Do you know how many children in this world are starving right now?”
Once Grandma walked away, Heather came into my room and hugged me. I knew exactly what she was feeling. “I miss Mom and Dad. I’m scared, too,” I admitted. Her sniffling made me want to cry with her, but I didn’t want to make her feel worse. It was my job to assure her that everything would be alright. “This is going to take some getting used to, but we’ll be fine. When Grandma gets to know us, she’ll lighten up, I’m sure.”
Dinner was quiet. We didn’t talk, and Grandma didn’t even look at us much. I really wanted to know why we didn’t get to know her growing up. I was trying to figure out the best way to ask without being disrespectful, but I didn’t feel comfortable enough—it being our first day there and everything. I just wasn’t getting welcoming vibes from her, and I know Heather wasn’t, either.
After dinner, Grandma started a fire in the huge, stone fireplace. She sat down in the shabby recliner, and just stared into the orange flames. Heather and I sat on the floor closer to the fireplace and played Uno. It was one of the few games I had brought from home that we could play. Without a TV in my room, I couldn’t hook up and play my Nintendo. I would glance at Grandma every now and then, but she continued to sit quietly in a trance. Whatever she was thinking about must not have been pleasant based on her expressionless face. At one point, she caught me looking at her when her eyeballs moved to the corner of her eyes. I felt a chill from that lifeless glare, and she didn’t say a word.
While the heat thrown at us by the fire felt soothing, the silent evening was awkward. Neither Heather or I wanted to risk making any noise that might disturb Grandma, and I was careful to shuffle the Uno deck as quietly as I could because the sound of the plastic cards slapping together was deafening. Heather and I both looked toward the window to see darkness outside. When I turned back, Grandma startled me because she was standing over us.
“Time for bed, children. I will see you in the morning,” she said.
Grandma led us down the hall, then stepped to the side and waited for Heather to enter her room before leaving us. I felt bad for Heather, whose sad, droopy eyes stared at me and disappeared behind the closing door. I shut my own door before Grandma could. The best thing to do was sleep and get the night over with.
For obvious reasons, I had a nightmare that night. I dreamt that my sister had disappeared, and that filled me with dread. Not just from being completely alone, but because I was helpless to save her. The dark of night started closing in like a blanket being pulled over my face. I couldn’t escape it. It was one of those times where I realized it was a dream, but I couldn’t wake myself up. When the darkness finally surrounded me, I awoke with a pounding heart and sweaty hair.
My eyes adjusted to the darkness after a few seconds, at which point my body became tense as I felt warm air on the side of my face and noticed a figure next to me. I slightly turned my head to find Grandma’s pale, wrinkly flesh inches from my own. I pulled away and sat up, while she simultaneously stood up. Breathing heavily, I whispered, “What is it, Grandma?”
She stood there, mute and motionless, raising her hand to reveal an object. My imagination immediately assumed it was a knife, but after squinting I could see that it was a wooden spoon. “I’m having some mulled wine. I couldn’t sleep. Sorry to wake you.”
Grandma didn’t offer me any, but rather just left and shut the door. It was the weirdest thing I had ever experienced up to that point in my life, but I wasn’t about to mention it to Heather. I couldn’t fall asleep again that night, but luckily the sun was just beginning to rise.
Over the next few days, things remained awkward. Heather and I would go outside a lot. We played in the snow even though we didn’t have proper snow gear. Naturally, our hands and feet would go numb, and our noses would run. We both agreed that it was worth not being stuck inside that stuffy, boring cabin with Grandma. I should have acknowledged at the time that Heather was quite the trooper.
We would have snowball fights, build snowmen, and make snow angels as most children did. We had to make our own fun without electronics. Dad would have been proud of us because he always used to say that we needed to get out more and take a break from video games that he didn’t have growing up. The best part was that each night, Grandma would have the fireplace crackling by the time we came in, and she insisted we dry off in front of it before getting the floor all wet.
At least once a day, I would often notice Grandma watching us from the window while we were outside. She didn’t smile at us, and she usually didn’t have any reactions at all other than a scowl. I often wondered what she was thinking. Was she concerned for our well-being and just checking up on us? Things weren’t getting any less awkward, and she creeped me out.
Soon, we were made to do chores before being allowed outside. She had us hand scrub clothes in the kitchen sink, keep our rooms tidy and spotless, wax the hardwood floors by hand, keep the firewood stocked, and scrub the bathroom. The cleanliness of the cabin meant everything to her. When we didn’t complete the task to her liking, she would swat us with a leather strap.
One night at dinner, I got tired of beating around the bush. If we were supposed to live with her for the next six years until my eighteenth birthday, I wanted to know why she was so standoffish. Watching her stare down at her grilled cheese with sauerkraut as she ate, I asked, “Grandma, how come you and Grandpa never came to visit?”
Heather was about to put a fork full of food in her mouth, but stopped short when she heard my question. We both had our eyes trained on Grandma and waited for a response.
She put her fork down and looked up at us, which wasn’t something she did at dinner very often. She stared in silence for a moment before responding. “It’s not your fault, children. Your Grandfather and I forbid our son from marrying that trash you used to call Mother. Because of his choices, we couldn’t in good conscience have anything to do with you abominations. He had unforgivably disappointed us. It’s not your fault.” She looked back down at her plate and took another bite.
I didn’t know how to respond. It hurt to hear her talk not only about our parents like that, but she made it pretty clear what she thought of us. What could they have done to upset Grandma and Grandpa so much? I decided to let it go and finish my meal.
The next afternoon before dinner, I noticed smoke coming from the chimney as it usually did on those cold, winter days. Heather and I were cold and wet as usual, looking toward sitting in front of the fire. When we went inside for dinner, the fireplace was disappointingly not lit. I asked Grandma about the smoke, and she told us it was coming from the basement furnace.
I had no idea there was a basement, and my youthful imagination went a little wild. Of course, it was probably just to heat the cabin, but why then instead of the fireplace this time? I was curious to say the least.
That night, a couple of hours after bedtime, I decided to investigate. I hadn’t done any exploring because all the rooms had closed doors, so I didn’t want to break Grandma’s rules. I slowly opened the bedroom door wide enough to squeeze through. To my dismay, Heather’s door was wide open, and she wasn’t in bed.
My initial thought was that Grandma had her, but I hoped she was sitting at the kitchen table for a late-night snack. The den was chilly and shrouded in darkness, as was the Kitchen next to it. I would have to search the other rooms in the house.
I made my way down the quiet hall on my tippy toes, putting my ear to the three doors whose interior was a mystery. There were no sounds coming from any of the rooms, so I had to open them a crack. I kept looking over my shoulder into darkness, checking for any moving silhouettes. The hairs on my arms were standing on end as I anticipated something sinister.
One room was a child’s room. It must have been Father’s because there were old blankets and wooden toys with masculine designs and colors. They looked antique and foreign. I figured she didn’t want to touch the nostalgia of her son’s childhood bedroom. The next was Grandmother’s room. I opened the door a crack and peeked through. There were two separate beds, but she wasn’t in either. That meant they would have to be in the last room together, and that had to be the basement. Terror filled my heart as I tried to come up with a good reason that they’d be down there in the middle of the night.
When I opened the last door, a dark staircase at my feet appeared to descend into hell. At the bottom were several flickering lights. Aside from one dark-orange light, the rest were yellowish. I heard crying and whimpering that sounded like my sister’s. Even though I was petrified, I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try to help Heather.
I rushed down the creaking, wooden steps until one broke under the weight of my foot. Luckily, it was the second to last step, so I didn’t fall too hard. I pushed off the ground and lifted my head to look around the room. What I saw was more disturbing than anything I’m likely to see again.
My sister was in her nightgown and strapped down to a metal operating table. Grandma stood over her in an oversized, gray uniform with a scalpel in her hand. As she turned to me, I saw a red band around her arm with a swastika on it. There was an SS patch on her collar, and an eagle on her visor cap. On the walls around the room were large, red flags with swastikas and a portrait of Adolf Hitler.
It took mere seconds to put everything together in my juvenile brain, and I remember recalling history class in sixth grade. That look Grandma had given us for weeks was one of pure hatred; for no other reason than being Jewish. I was so scared, and trembling from my feeble grandmother’s appearance, that I could hardly breathe. The only thing that I could think about next was how to safely get my sister and I out of there.
Grandma slowly walked toward me as I retreated until my back hit the wall. My initial reaction was to plead with her. “Grandma, what are you doing? We’re good kids. You don’t want to do this. You’re the only family we have left.”
“You Jews are the vermin in this world that need to be eradicated. My own son was a traitor to his own flesh and blood, but we made him pay for his sins. When my beloved husband was dying, he made me promise to end our tainted bloodline. It pained me to arrange my son’s death, but I knew it had to be done. We cannot allow you to carry on the family name,” Grandma said in a thicker German accent than she had used before.
“There is no WE anymore. You’re alone, Grandma. If you do this, it’s because you’re the evil one. Don’t pretend Grandpa is still alive,” I said.
Grandma shook her head. “He’s always with me, dear. He showed me what I have to do. He removed more rats like you from this planet than he could count. We’re some of the last few pure Arians on this infested planet. Accept your fate. You have to die.”
In a defensive position, I was just waiting for her to swing at me. She lunged at me with the scalpel, but I ducked under her arm. Finding myself behind her, I threw my body weight into her and pressed my hand on the back of her head until it hit the wall with a solid thud. She fell to her knees, so I ran to my sister. I started unbuckling the strap across her legs when Grandma attacked from behind.
I felt a searing pain in my left shoulder blade. With her legs unbuckled, Heather kicked Grandma right in the mouth, knocking out dentures dripping with strings of saliva and blood. I could feel the blistering heat from the furnace on my backside because the door was open behind me. Grandma collected herself and rushed toward me with her scalpel pointed directly at me. Once again, I evaded her and pushed from behind until her stomach was against the furnace. She screamed as I held her against it with my body. Her coat burst into flames, forcing me off of her so that I didn’t catch fire as well.
I ran to Heather and finished unstrapping the belts holding her torso down, while Grandma was engulfed in flames behind me. She screamed with her last breathes and cursed us. My sister was free just in time to run with me up the staircase as Grandma chased and flailed behind. She collapsed on the stairs and ceased moving, at which point we slammed the basement door behind us with relief.
Smoke began escaping from the basement and filled the hallway. We grabbed our belongings and went outside. It took a little more than an hour before the sun came up, and then another hour for emergency services to notice the billowing smoke and reach us. That was the happiest memory in my life. Standing outside, holding Heather tight as we admired the inferno and warmed ourselves by Grandma’s fire.
