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Fiction Short Story

by Dolores Hayes

The Secret Yellow Stain

The first Saturday after moving into my new old house, the secret yellow stain hidden by the sellers under the shabby walk in carpet by the door, totally obsessed me. I got up at 5 a.m. and immediately started scrubbing it with ammonia.

I got on my knees with my trusty double-sided sponge; it was a green scrubber on one side and pink sponge on the other. It never fails me because what the sponge doesn't rub up, the green side scrubs up.

I envisioned my yellowed vinyl tiled floor all pink and white. The yellowed spot made it seem the kitchen door shadow had simply lain down on the floor and died there. No matter, it would soon be gone.

I poured straight ammonia, held my breath and rubbed. Nothing changed. I turned my head, gasped for more air and then used the green side of the sponge and scrubbed. Nothing. If anything it was a darker shade of yellow. Like a living stain, it glowed with my scrubbing.

Surrendering, I tried to stand and had to get into a crawl position. Now, I was gasping from the ammonia fumes. I placed one foot on the floor, pushed with my hands, and stood, but not quite erect.

It had been an act of faith alone that dared me to get down on the floor in the first place. Since I got into a hot tub in Jamaica and had to be pulled out, I never know if my joints are going to cooperate.

I put away the ammonia and got out the bleach. Once again I was down on hands and knees, my trusty blue rubber scrubber in my hand, and yes, I changed sponges, I know, never mix ammonia and bleach. I poured bleach out of the bottle, rubbed and scrubbed and sweated.

Again the yellow stain glowed. I knew it had a mouth and it was smiling.

This was now war: Woman against yellow perfect 6'x3' living yellow stain.

As I pushed myself from crawling to standing this time, I felt a power surge. Every ad I have ever seen on TV for removing stains rolled before my mind's eye and I knew somewhere there was a product that would clean the stubborn yellow shadow from my Armstrong vinyl floor.

It was too early for the store to be open so I ran those TV ads by my eyes as I searched under the kitchen sink and then through the bathroom cupboard.

Who needs an exercise program? I have a yellow stain daring me to get down and crawl once more with peroxide.

When I needed a rest but wanted to keep fighting, I used one of my husband's denture tablets. I bent over, placed it on yet another yellowed square, added water. As it foamed, I pictured my vinyl floor in that glass of water at night, foaming away the yellow between the squares. Well it gave me a much-needed rest and the yellow stain, brighter now, loved it.

The clock hands crawled toward store opening time. I pulled a sweatshirt over my bra-less top, opened the kitchen door, ran down the steps while pushing my remote control car starter, opened the door, jumped in, shifted into gear and raced over the speed limit to the nearest Rite-aid.

The Rite-aid's shelves were a television haven of cleaning products. I purchased one of everything. Easy Off oven cleaner, Cascade dishwashing liquid, Oxyden, C.L.R., Didi Seven Ultra New and Improved, Spic and Span, and Foaming Bubbles. For the money I spent, I could have purchased new vinyl flooring but this was war and I lost sight of any peaceful solution. I hurried home to do more battle.

Four hours later, I surrendered, exhausted. The stain beat every television-cleaning ad known to woman.

Seeing his chance to get to the closet door that keeps falling on us when we open it and was just beyond the yellow stain, my husband took on his challenge for the day. The folding louver door to the closet fought a vicious fight, kicking the ceiling and the paint on the kitchen walls. A grampy long legs spider just sat quietly in a corner of the closet watching. We left him there.

By 6 p.m., my husband won the closet door battle. It surrendered and slipped into the groove. He lay back on the yellow stained floor, exhausted but victorious. All I could see was the yellow stain.

By Sunday we were both so lame neither of us could walk normally. It was kind of a bent, hump, drag step to get food from the refrigerator and doing the stairs was agony. Yet, I was not ready to give up the war with the yellow stain.

The Internet, yes, that's it. I'll ask Jeeves. He knows everything. I click on Jeeves in my favorite places. I type in my question: "What will take a yellow stain out of vinyl flooring?"

His answer: "Nothing, It is living and breathing. It needs oxidation and sunshine. Anything rubber placed on it turns it yellow, including 6'x3' doorway rugs, rubber feet on scales, rubber backed bathroom mats, etc. Sun shining directly on the stain might fade it over time."

I click Jeeves off and go back to look at the yellow stain. It was still there in front of the door and it sneered at me. I deliberately stepped onto it, opened the kitchen door, got into my car and drove to the store for a sun lamp. I was happily singing, "Let the sun shine in" as I arrived back home. I opened the box, took out the sun lamp, plugged it in, turned it on and then shone its bright glare onto the yellow stain.

I made myself lunch and I laughed, giddy with happiness listening to the fading screams of the yellow stain. I knew then that given the right stain, all women are stain murderers in their hearts.

© Copyright 2003 Dolores Hayes

About the Author:

Dolores lives with her husband Ron in Augusta, Maine. They are newlyweds and both 61 years old. She works as a secretary during the day and as a potential author at night. He is a psychologist with an office in their home. She believes life is the weapon that wounds souls, laughter the bandage and God the healer. He believes that nothing means anything. The Secret Yellow Stain is an excerpt from the book she is writing, Out of Paradise Into the Storm. The story is about their choice to buy a new and challenging old house and move from the luxury of the Paradise Retirement Condominiums. Having lost the energizing gift of youth, they must reach their decisions, face their physical handicaps, and overcome the obstacles of the stubborn old house that was built forty-years before they were born.