When Grace came downstairs that morning, there was a monster lying on their couch. It was about six feet long and about six feet across the shoulders and it had three shoulders and three eyes and one half face.
She went into the kitchen and found her mother midway through a second cup of coffee.
“Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“Why’s the monster from our basement in the living room?”
“Basements are expensive these days, baby. We’re just being neighbourly when times are tough.”
“Oh.”
“I know you’re worried and a little scared,” said Grace’s mom, who was perceptive in certain ways after a certain amount of caffeine, “but change isn’t always bad, and I know you’re a brave and clever enough girl to come to informed opinions and not rely on off-the-cuff judgments.”
Grace considered this, then went back to the living room to consult the evidence.
The monster hadn’t moved, but for some drool escaping the corner of their jaw. Their feet were propped up higher than their head, and their scaly talons looked like they must have been awfully chilly with no sheet to cover them. There were marks on their cheek from where they had pillowed their face on their arm.
She went back to the kitchen and sat down with some cereal, ate half of it, and thought for a little bit.
“I think they were mostly scary because they were in the basement,” she said. “You know. Because it’s dark. And dusty. And there’s bugs.”
“That sounds like a considered and calculated first thought, which is a good place to begin from,” said Grace’s mother. “Also I didn’t know our basement has bugs. What kind of bugs? Can you show me before you go to school? Ideally I needed to know this a few months ago.”
***
The bugs were crickets, not cockroaches, so that was alright.
The monster was of indeterminate species and age and form, and asked to be called Tabitha.
“It’s not professional to give your name out to the client,” Tabitha told Grace, “but I’m not exactly working with you anymore now, am I? Can’t be a basement monster without a basement.”
“You could go under my bed, maybe?” said Grace. “Or mom’s bed, if it’s too small.”
“That’d be scab work,” said Tabitha. “I’d sooner stick a daydream up my nose and walk into the collective unconsciousness than resort to that sort of bullshit whoops don’t tell your mom I said that.”
“It’s okay. Grandma says that sort of thing all the time.”
“Good for her,” said Tabitha. “Hey, what time does your mom get back?”
“Past seven if her shift runs late.”
“Cool. Want to make her dinner?”
“I’m not supposed to turn on the stove.”
“Yeah, but I can. How about cricket cakes? Everyone loves pancakes, your mom doesn’t want crickets in the basement anymore, win/win.”
***
Grace’s mom was flattered but didn’t enjoy the crickets very much. She said they probably would’ve tasted better if they hadn’t been living in the basement eating laundry soap.
On the weekend Grace sat with Tabitha on the floor of the living room and helped her sort through HELP WANTED and CLASSIFIEDS and JOB NOTICES print and online, local and afar.
“You don’t have a car, right?”
“Nope.”
“So why are we looking at jobs out of town?”
“If I have to move, I have to move,” said Tabitha, who was very slowly typing something on the family laptop and Grace’s mom’s phone at the same time and looking at neither. “You guys’ve been real nice to me, and I’d rather not stay on your couch forever. Nobody should have to deal with that.”
“I don’t mind,” said Grace, which was the truth. A few days into her relocation, Tabitha had lost the dusty smell associated with basements, but retained the oddly comforting mustiness of old books. It made the living room feel homey, and the (single) tall thin bookshelf seem fuller.
“Yeah, but you’ll want space eventually. Sooner or later you’ll grow up and be a teen and start bringing your dumb teen friends and your dumber teen crushes here and they’ll want to use the couch to vape at or make out on and then where will you be?”
“Gross. Do you want to be an elementary school janitor?”
“Isn’t that your school?”
“Yeah.”
“Can’t; conflict of interest due to you being a former client. And yeah, teens are gross. I know what I’m talking about. I was a teen for thirty years.”
“Some cicadas live underground for almost twenty years,” said Grace.
“Hey, that’s about how long I was in your basement.”
“How’d you do that?”
“Highest bidder.”
“Why’d you stop? Oh, do you want to be a security guard?”
“I’d fail the background check; part of being a basement monster is being formally categorized as a ‘nuisance animal.’ And I stopped because I ran out of savings.”
“Why’d you run out of savings?”
“The economy’s in the shitter whoops did it again.”
“It’s okay.” Grace tapped at the paper. “Do you want to be a dishwasher?”
“They don’t make hairnets big enough to let me in a kitchen.”
“You could wear a fishnet for fishing with. They’re big enough to hold whole schools of tuna.”
“Tempting, but no.”
“The tuna are endangered.”
“Same.”
***
Tabitha got a job doing data entry, and it lasted for two weeks before she was fired for slowness.
“It’s the claws,” she told Grace in the park that evening. “Typing is too damned hard with claws. I can either go slow or go fast and pull the keys out.”
“I didn’t know you could pull keys out of a keyboard.”
“I didn’t either until ’03 or so. I thought computers were a fad until around then.”
“Weird. Hey, can you help me come down?”
“The slide’d be faster.”
“I don’t like this slide. It’s gross in the middle.”
“Then why’d you climb it?”
“I wanted to be taller than you.”
“Job done. Climb backwards.”
“I can’t climb backwards.”
“Then climb upside down.”
“I can’t climb upside down.”
“I thought humans were supposed to be some kind of monkey? What kind of terrible monkey are you? Even I can climb upside down.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Sure. Watch.”
Nobody was hurt, and since the slide was gross they didn’t have to pay for it, but they never went back to that playground again.
***
Tabitha got a job doing construction work.
“Do you lift very big things?” asked Grace, who was being helpful by holding the laundry basket.
“I could, but no,” said Tabitha, who was holding the other laundry basket and the clean laundry and the dirty laundry because having three shoulders and four arms helped like that. “I’m the new guy, so mostly I hold the sign that says SLOW.”
“Why?”
“So the cars see us and go slow instead of running us over while we’re doing roadwork.”
“No, I mean, why do you have to hold the sign if you’re the new guy?”
“They want to make sure I can do something very simple before they ask me to do something hard.”
“Was being a basement monster hard?”
Tabitha considered this, or maybe the liquid soap. “Sort of? The job’s straightforward, but execution can be tricky. You were a pretty nervy kid, too. Never screamed once, so all I had to work with were breathing patterns and heart rates. It took me ages to figure out how to get the heeby-jeebies going inside your head without overusing whatever tricks I had. I think it was the ambiguous creaking that always got you most, right?”
“That creak that went like ‘eeeerrrrrruuunmk?”
“Yeah. Yeah! That took a lot of work.”
“It almost sounded like the house.”
“Of course it did. That’s why it was scary. Something’s always scariest if you don’t know what it is, and something that ALMOST seems like something else but isn’t is a good way to make people unsure of what something is.”
Grace considered this as the clean laundry entered the basket and overflowed the basket and buried her and the basket.
“Hey!”
“Whoops, my bad. Forgot you had little noodle arms.”
“I don’t!”
“Sure you do. Two little bitty noodles.”
The laundry fight that followed was intense, but briefs.
***
Tabitha was at home making dinner a week later when Grace came back from school again.
“Got laid off for picking up a backhoe,” she explained.
“Why’d you do that?”
“Some guy’s leg got stuck under it. Anyways his leg’s fine but I should’ve waited for the medic to be safe. But that wasn’t what got me fired: part of the backhoe fell off when I lifted it.”
“Which part?”
“I’m not really sure. I can’t even drive a car, why should I know what part of a backhoe does what? Hey, does your mom like worms? I got some good worms at work. Top notch worms. Anyone would be proud to eat those worms.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Are you sure? She likes spaghetti.”
“Spaghetti is different.”
Tabitha sighed the sigh of someone with slightly more lungs than usual. “Sure, sure, sure, sure. Thanks, kid. More for me. Spaghetti then, though?”
“Sure sure sure sure.”
“Oh, go sure yourself. Where are the tea bags?”
“Mom likes coffee better.”
“Thanks. Where’s the coffee?”
***
Grace worked the laptop this time while Tabitha cleaned. “I can reach the high spots easier,” she explained, “and you can type without breaking the damned keyboard.”
“How about being a garbageman?” asked Grace.
“I’m allergic to plastic, and – more importantly – I can’t drive,” said Tabitha.
“You shouldn’t use the vacuum up high,” explained Grace. “It’s meant to stay on the floor.”
“I don’t see why not; I can pick it up just fine and your ceiling needed the cleaning. Hey, does your mom like spiders?”
“She likes that they eat other bugs.”
“They aren’t bugs.”
“Bugs is a colloquial word.”
“Very nice. Did you learn that in school today?”
“No, I read about it and asked mom. Hey, could you be an English teacher? Or a tutor?”
“You need certification, and even if you have it, you don’t get paid.”
“How about being an escort?” asked Grace.
Tabitha dropped the vacuum.
“Shit!”
“It’s okay!”
“Did it hit you?”
“No!”
“Okay, I’m taking the computer back. You’re looking at the wrong classifieds.”
“No I’m not!”
The following wrestling match would’ve gone wholly unremarked upon if it weren’t for the fact that Grace’s mom walked in the door just then, three hours early thanks to a major plumbing problem at work and twelve hours underslept.
“Oh,” she said. “Are you going to eat her?”
“She won’t be an escort!” said Grace. “And I’m NOT looking at the wrong classifieds!”
Grace’s mom nodded at this, walked into her bathroom, and cracked up.
***
“How about a nurse?”
“Needs school.”
“How about a doctor?”
“Needs school.”
“How about an elephant?”
“That isn’t even a job.”
“How about a painter?”
“Fur and paint don’t mix.”
“How about a housekeeper? Or a nanny?”
“Why would you assume I know anything about keeping, cleaning, or tending to a house?”
“You clean and you cook and you do the laundry and you take me out to the park and you buy groceries and you stopped trying to feed mom bugs when she asked you to even though you really really really want to?”
Tabitha was silent for a long, long time.
“And you’re making chocolate chip cookies for her right now,” added Grace.
“Thanks.”
“You should take them out of the oven in five minutes.”
“Thanks.
“You’re welcome.”
***
The first snowfall came down just as they finished the moving. Tabitha’s belongings were largely ambiguous nests of woven lint and cobwebs, held in fresh crisp cardboard boxes taken from a nearby liquor store.
“It was no trouble at all,” Grace’s mom was explaining. “And don’t hesitate to ask again if you need any help.”
“You put me up for two months and helped me move out; how could I ask for more?” said Tabitha.
“You own four boxes that weigh less than six pounds each.”
“And the couch,” said Grace.
“And the couch, but you moved that yourself.”
“I still can’t believe you got me to steal your couch.”
“You got more use out of it than we ever did.”
“I’ll buy you a new one.”
“If you buy me dinner.”
“How about if I make you dinner?”
“No bugs?”
“No bugs.”
“Are you going to get married?” asked Grace.
They looked at her.
“Because I don’t mind.”
They looked back at each other.
“Well, I didn’t want to do anything while you had to live at our place,” said Grace’s mom.
“And I didn’t want to do anything while I was costing you money,” said Tabitha.
“So is that yes?” asked Grace.
Tabitha and Grace’s mom did something weird with their faces a few times.
“Dunno,” said Tabitha.
“We’d need to think about it,” said Grace’s mom.
“Why?” demanded Grace.
“It’d be a damned big change, wouldn’t it?” said Tabitha.
“And mom told me that’s not always bad,” said Grace primly. “But if you do get married, please don’t kiss. That’s gross.”
“I’m biologically incapable of it,” said Tabitha.
And that was when Grace knew things had turned out just fine.