It was in a small parlour in the right lobby of the first floor of the rickety mansion beside the lake. You know what “it” is? No? Well, then let me tell you the story of the 2’x2’ window that rested on the floor in a small parlour in the right lobby of the first floor of the rickety mansion beside the lake. You could never look through this window, the bright light would blind you. But you could put your hand through it. I knew this because the rickety mansion was next to my house and the two of them—the houses, that is—spoke to each other often.
It was a sad day for the rickety mansion as the family which had lived there for more than 60 years was leaving. They’d packed up their bags and cars and were waiting for the family who’d bought the mansion from them. They had to hand over the key. The family was waiting for the matriarch who wished to be in the small parlour for a little longer. The Lady Daisy, as the person on the other side of the window had named her when she was five, knelt down with great difficulty and put her hand through the window. A smooth, supple hand held her wrinkled and shrunken one. It was strong and she always likened it to her father’s.
“I’m leaving today, Mr. Hand. And a new family is going to start living here. You be nice, now,” Lady Daisy chastised.
“I’m sorry to see you go, m’dear. And I would never dare to be rude after all the manners you taught me over your tea parties,” Mr. Hand replied, amusement colouring his words.
“I’ve never seen you, and I don’t know you. Yet, I’ve implicitly trusted in your words. Will you not tell me who you are?”
“If I do, little poppet, your memories would lose their magic. And I would never do that to you.” He was somber now.
“Will everyone be able to meet you now?”
“No, Lady Daisy. Just those who need me. And I’ll be anything they need.”
Someone, her grandson mostly, was calling out to her. It was time to leave. She cleared the lump in her throat and squeezed the hand. “You’ve been a wonderful companion, Mr. Hand. And I hope you find your happiness as well. Farewell for now.” She held on to the wall and stood up. “And do make sure the window is a little higher the next time round. It’s extremely unseemly for a Lady to bend down with her bottoms and bloomers in the air to speak with you.” She turned and walked out. The room echoed with Mr. Hand’s laughter. Oh, he would miss the little girl, though she wasn’t that little anymore. She was now a grandmother of four. How fast the time slipped away through the cracks.
As Mr. Hand laid on the other side of the window, musing, Lady Daisy stepped out of the mansion to the sight of a small family nervously looking around. A husband, wife, and a young boy of maybe six who looked like he’d discovered despair. Her weakening eyesight zeroed in on the boy’s untied laces and ruffled hair. He looked like he’d need a companion. As she walked by him, she bent down, and ignoring him flinch, she whispered in his ear, her raspy voice making him shudder. “In a small parlour in the right lobby of the first floor of the rickety mansion beside the lake, lies a window with a frame of ash wood. You need only to extend your hand and think of what you need the most, and the entire world will conspire with magic to fulfil your true desire.” And so the magic was transferred. A gust of wind tried to move her skirts up, but one raised eyebrow and it quietened down. Tittering at their silliness, the Lady Daisy left the premises. The young boy stood looking at the departing car, head cocked to a side in curiosity. He didn’t understand some words in the sentence the lady had just said, though he remembered them. Where did I put my dictionary?
“Jordan! Get inside! It’s going to rain!” The lady in the paisley dress looked out of the living room window.
Startled out of his trance, Jordan quietly made his way up the porch and through the front doors. When he walked in, nothing momentous happened, nothing momentous noticed. But if anyone had been on the first floor, they would have seen the window in the small parlour in the right lobby flooded with twinkling bursts of light.
“Mum, where’s my dictionary? The one Nana gave me.”
“It’s in the box marked J’s Books, hun. Your dada must be unpacking them in the library. Maybe you can find it there, yes? Run along now and help him while you’re at it. Second door on the left, first floor.”
Running to the library, he crashed into packed boxes and tumbled headfirst into his father’s lap.
“Hey there, little genius! Let’s see if your head’s screwed on straight,” his dada laughed, ruffling his hair even more.
Giggling at his dad’s antics, he crawled into the space next to the box. He took the dictionary and walked to the cushions, learning what he didn’t know. He dozed off to his dada arranging and unpacking books. He dreamt of his old home and the bicycle races they had in the park. He dreamt of leaving behind his best friend, Russ, and his neighbour’s dog. He dreamt that his old neighbour, Mrs. Meacham, would roll down the streets without him around to help her.
When he woke up, he was sad again. His dada carried him down for dinner, and later back to bed. He couldn’t believe they had to leave behind so many people. When he’d suggested that they could all move here to this big house, his mum had laughed and kissed his head, calling him a “kind baby.” He didn’t want to be a baby, he just wanted to stay with his friends.
He spent the next week moping and exploring the house. He felt very alone as no one would play thumb wars with him, and would have done anything for a friend. The new discoveries and hidden passageways, though, kept his mind occupied. When on the first floor, he remembered what the old lady had said and set out on finding the room. Once there, he looked for the window and found it resting at the bottom of the back wall. He was excited and wanted to tell Russ. Remembering that he was alone, he deflated like a balloon. Walking towards it anyway, he lay flat on the ground and put his hand through. Someone grasped it.
“And who, may I ask, is in need of my company?”
Yelping, Jordan scampered back and ran out of the room. Over the next few days, he stayed away from the first floor, when finally his need to know about this entity pushed him towards the room. Cautiously, he repeated the process of putting his hand through.
“And who, may I ask, again, is in need of my company?”
“Jordan White,” he said in a small voice.
“Mr. White, what do you yearn for?”
“What’s ‘yearn’?”
The stranger’s chuckles sounded like marshmallows. And he did like sweets.
“What do you want, child?”
“Why? Who are you? Are you going to give me what I want? Are you a genie? You know, I read about genies once in a book called Aladdin. He was Blue. Are you blue? Fr—”
“No, I’m not a genie or blue, but you will definitely turn blue if you don’t breathe,” the stranger said. “I’m a friend, and I can’t give you anything you want, only what you need.” Sensing the boy’s confusion, he added, “I know you’re thinking of marshmallows and I can’t give you that because you don’t need it, and because I can’t give you any material things.”
“Oh.” Jordan was thinking about this and fell asleep on the floor. The next morning, he woke up in his bed and ran back to the stranger/friend. He put his hand through without any hesitation. He was now sure about what he wanted. When he felt someone holding on to his hand, he chanted:
“1, 2, 3, 4, I declare a thumb war!”
Tickled by the boy’s innocence, and not wanting to disappoint him, the stranger/friend played thumb wars with the boy all day, except when he had to eat his meals. That night, Jordan asked him what, to his little mind, was very significant.
“What do I call you?”
“What do you want to call me, Mr. White?”
“Well, I want to call you Mr. Black, because every time I try to look through the window and see you, there’s a bright light and everything goes black for a while. And Mr. Bright just sounds silly. Is that okay?”
“Mr. Black, I like that. Yes. You may call me by that name from now on,” replied Mr. Black, after pondering over the child’s explanation.
And that was that. A bond as strong as the sun and the stars. Nothing could stop Jordan from talking to Mr. Black every morning and playing thumb wars with him. If he was late to school, he’d make sure he played with him in the evenings. The concept of loneliness was now a far memory for Jordan and he hardly remembered it, for in his mind, Mr. Black was always there for him.
“Mr. Black, do you have any brothers?”
“Not one, Mr. White. Why do you ask?”
“Mum said I’d have a little sister soon,” he said, losing the thumb war again. He hadn’t won. Ever. And unlike other children his age, he didn’t cry about it. He accepted that he had to just get better. Mr. Black had then complimented him on his logical decision and began teaching him the secrets of a successful life. From then, it progressed to everything else in the world, and Jordan being a curious cat, soaked up all the knowledge presented to him.
A few months later, Jordan could be seen running to the small parlour in the right lobby of the first floor of the rickety mansion beside the lake.
“Mr. Black! Mr. Black!” he yelled. Receiving no response, he stuck his hand inside the window and the portal glowed. Like it was being activated.
“Mr. Black!” he exclaimed, when he felt someone holding on to his hand. “I’m sorry I haven’t been here for a few days! But my baby sister got borned yesterday! She’s tiny and pink and squishy and mum let me hold her and she pooped on m—”
“Breathe, Mr. White. It will not do to have you keel over. And congratulations on your little who was born, not got borned.”
“Did you not miss me, Mr. Black?”
“Of course I did, little man. You are my only friend, after all.”
“Then why’d you sound so sad, Mr. Black?”
“Because a little Lady Daisy departed from this earth today,” he sounded close to tears. The strong Mr. Black had lost his strong. Jordan didn’t understand what his friend was saying, but knew it was bad anyway. Not saying a word, he ran to his room and came back with a small pouch clutched in his hand. He put them through the window.
“Marshmallows always make things better. And these are the best! And I can plant a daisy tomorrow. I know the flower is pretty, but you don’t have to feel bad about it.”
The small parlour in the right lobby of the first floor of the rickety mansion beside the lake had seen a lot of wear and tear. It had been seven years since the White family had moved in.
“Lila and I broke up today.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. White.”
“We’re two guys holding hands. And I’m a teenager and you’re not. Do you honestly not find this weird?”
“Well, we don’t have to hold hands if it makes you uncomfortable, little man.”
“That’s okay. 1, 2, 3, 4, I declare a thumb war.”
It is 15 years later that we see the two of them again.
“I’m getting married today, Mr. Black.”
No reply.
“I know I haven’t been to visit you in more than a year, but you don’t have to act like a child. It’s been a week! Just forgive me already!”
No Reply.
“Mr. Black, are you still there?” Fear was now seeping through his words.
He put his hand through the window. “1…. 2, 3.. 4, I d…declare a thumb war?”
A strong and supple hand, just as he remembered it when he was young, caught his. The only difference being both the hands were now around the same size.
“Hello, Mr. White. I’m sure the bride is a darling woman.”
“She is,” smiling. “The cake has marshmallows in them.”
“She must really like you to put that synthetic detritus in her cake!”
“Hey!” Both of them laugh. They reminisce.
And so went their bond, getting stronger and stronger. They shared all of their joys and sorrows, gains and losses.
An old man shuffled into the room, inspecting it with eyes hidden behind spectacles. Stumbling into the furniture, he looked at the unusual window at the bottom of the wall. Oh my, how long it’d been since he’d seen it. He sat beside the window and put his hand through. “1…. 2..3.. 4, I declare a thumb war.” His body was jerking with uncontrollable coughs.
“Mr. White.” A strong and smooth hand held his weak and old one. “You haven’t been in a while.”
“The rascals said I had be in the hospital. I came here first thing I could.”
“Little man, how have you been?”
“Marshy passed away a few months before and I just can’t go on, Mr. Black. I know I’ll be leaving soon and I found the perfect resident for this place. She’s been living next door with her mother’s sister for the past few months, and they are looking for a new place. She’s four, the daughter, not the aunt. Is that okay with you?”
“Mr. White, I’m sorry for your loss. This is your house to do with as you please. I’d prefer you to be immortal, but the magic must pass on, and so should everyone.”
“They’ll be arriving later today. You can get acquainted with them, then. Goodbye, Mr. Black. You have been the best friend anyone could ask for.”
“Farewell, Jordan. I will miss you more than you could ever know.” The window inconspicuously moved a little higher as the next visitor would be a lady.
As Jordan White stepped out of the mansion for the last time, the little girl and her aunt were walking in. Jordan bent down and was speaking to the little girl when words tumbled out of his mouth unheeded. “In a small parlour in the right lobby of the first floor of the rickety mansion beside the lake, lies a window with a frame of ash wood. You need only to extend your hand and think of what you need the most, and the entire world will conspire with magic to fulfil your true desire.” And so the magic was transferred.
He seemed a little surprised, as did the little girl, pulling on her pigtails. He looked at the young woman standing beside her niece, a knowing smile on her face. She bent towards Jordan and whispered, “Our family has been guarding the secret of the mansion for centuries, Mr. White. No need to look so astounded. The magic just passed on to another who most needs it.”
Jordan chuckled and stepped outside the gates. My niece and I stared after him until he was long gone and the clock chimed 6. The little darling was exhausted. “Let’s get you to bed, baby.”
“Where?” she was yawning.
“Next to the small parlour, of course!”
Silver Tongue 