She’s Been Marooned Next Door to the “American Gothic” House With No Way Out

But she’s no ‘girl next door’

Clutching a tattered suitcase against her chest, Aimée looked up at the Gothic window in front of the house. How had it even gotten there?

It was commonplace in her native Lille. In fact, she rarely even noticed the Gothic architecture of L’Église Saint-Maurice, which she had passed every day as a child.

But here? In a tiny village in the United States? This gothic window stuck out like a sore thumb. It was as marooned here as she was.

“Amy! Amy! Stop gawking and get in here!”

Unused to the anglicized version of her name, it wasn’t until her Aunt Dorothy was standing at her side that she pulled her eyes away from the window.

“Don’t go bothering Mrs. Dibble and Clara. Come inside!”

Aunt Dorothy wrenched her arm towards the back door of the Prairie-style home she shared with Aimée’s uncle, François.

Frank.

She’d have to get used to the anglicization of his name too.

Aimée knew she should be grateful to be here to stay with her uncle and aunt, an ocean away from her now-occupied home — but she couldn’t help but feel lost. And this welcome wasn’t much of one.

“What were you staring at?”

Her aunt demanded as she tucked Aimée’s suitcase into a little room off the kitchen.

“That window…how did it —?”

“Oh, you and that Wood fellow and everyone else has been curious about that foolish window. The sheer silliness of our neighbors! That Dibble house is nothing to write home about. I don’t know what Catherine was thinking. ”

Aimée slumped down at the kitchen table as her aunt bustled around getting things together for supper.

“Is there anything I can — ?”

She tried to interject to offer aid, but her aunt continued.

“It’s none of mine, never mind, but I just think it’s absurd. I always have. And now it’s forever immortalised in some painting somewhere, and another thing…”

Aimée ceased listening as her aunt railed on about the Dibbles and the farce of having a “church window” in one’s house.

She missed home.

It was 1941 and she didn’t know if she’d ever see it again.

© A A McRae 2023

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This story was written in response to Short Shorts’ “Architecture” prompt by Alex Godley

Curious about “American Gothic” or “The Dibble House?” Check out the American Gothic House Center to learn more or schedule a visit.