It wasn’t bad. Maybe it was, actually. It was hard to tell from the photos. With all of the furniture cleared out of the rooms and the daylight pouring in through the windows on to the white-ish carpet, it almost appeared promising. Mindy Klugman had artfully captured the back lot in a way which maximized the apparent size and minimized the appearance of the trash heaps in the yellowed grass. Maybe if he left them long enough, they would gradually become overgrown with vines and wildflowers, naturally reclaimed by the earth as a lasting symbol of the transience of man, or something like that. But they had already been there for at least a quarter of a century and no such transformation had occurred.
Mindy Klugman had been pleased to hear of his interest, and agreed to show him the house on a Sunday afternoon. Against his own wishes he invited his family along, ostensibly for their feedback, but in reality, the only other alternative was lying to their faces.
Against the blustery, gray backdrop of the February sky, the old ranch had a foreboding appearance. The white paint was flaking off, its large front windows resembled dark, gaping mouths, and the overgrown bushes and shrubs clapped in the wind like skeletal hands. As they waited for Mindy to arrive, coat collars up around their ears, Joule and Mikayla raced up and down the steps of the front porch, encased in snowsuits. Dad and Nick surveyed the state of the driveway and foundation and Casper nodded along with their observations, having no idea what he was looking at. Maybe this was a terrible idea.
A few minutes later, Mindy pulled up in her blue Subaru Forester.
“I’m so sorry. You must be freezing. And the little ones out here in the cold. Oh, dear. I am so sorry,” she said as she unlocked the door. But before she opened it, she took the opportunity to point out the large yard. “Perfect for a swing set and a Labrador,” Mindy observed. “And when it comes time for the puppy, I know a breeder in Dubuque. My sister got a great dog from her.”
She flicked on the lights. She had warned him that the place could use a bit of love, and she hadn’t been kidding.
The smell of a thousand cats. The carpet was lumpy and of a hue which was neither beige nor gray, resembling a page of crumpled old newsprint. The walls that weren’t covered with wood panelling from top to bottom were all painted an indescribable shade, somewhere between rotting orange and dirty fudge.
“Popcorn ceilings,” he heard Rosa remark with concern. The popcorn ceilings were studded with stark overhead lights which did not flatter the grim wood panelling. Mindy showed them the kitchen, sprawling and as striped as a gourd, with appliances which were antediluvian at best. The five bedrooms, which each boasted a unique shade of stained green carpet, plastered them with a pungent wall of cat smell as soon as the door opened. There were two bathrooms, one blue and one pink. At last, they trekked down the ghostly stairs into the basement. The concrete floor and walls seemed to go on for miles, illuminated by spare, flickering bulbs.
After they had completed the initial tour, Dad and Nick stood with their hands on their hips, surveying the ceiling. They kicked at the flooring and rapped on the walls. They inspected the fireplace and the furnace and checked the basement walls for water damage. They directed Casper to crawl under each of the sinks and report back to them what he found. They walked the perimeter of the property and assessed the drainage and the state of the septic system. Mom said nothing while Rosa kept pointing out the immense potential of each space and Mindy heartily agreed. Joule and Mikayla ran around with their noses plugged.
“Cass, you have to see this renovation my friend and her husband just finished,” Rosa said, thrusting her phone into his hand. “Do you remember Lyla and Brandon?” Casper didn’t. “They flip houses and they just did this one in Cedar Falls. It’s a ranch, just like this one! See, Mindy?” It wasn’t just like this one. It was about thirty years newer and apparently had a budget several orders of magnitude greater than his. It looked incredible. Sleek white countertops, stainless steel appliances, gleaming brass hardware, golden wood floors, and impeccable tile work.
“You could definitely do something like that here,” Mindy said with conviction. “I know the smell is,” she hesitated, “difficult, but it’s all in the carpet. Once that’s out, it’ll be so much better. Trust me, I’ve seen this before.”
“It’s well-sealed and very dry down there,” Dad said, as he appeared from the basement stairs. “And not a lot of the newer homes have basements at all, Cass.” He nodded, his head beginning to swim from the cat fumes.
“We don’t even have a basement,” piped in Rosa. “And just think of how nice it would be to have all this counter space.” She stretched out her hands and ran them over the yellow Formica. It might be nice. Joule wandered over to the ancient fridge and opened the door.
“Mikkie!” he shrieked, motioning wildly for her to join him. She scurried over obediently and stuck her head in next to his. “Dis so warm!” he marveled. “Dad, why dis so warm? Why Gramma fridge so cold? I love dis.” Everyone smiled with approval.
“That fridge does function,” Mindy said, directing their attention to the outlet and plugging it in. A moment later, they heard the old green icebox grumbling to life. “All of the appliances are in working order. No need to replace anything right away.”
“The furnace is about to keel over,” Nick remarked. “That’ll cost a pretty penny.”
“Mr. Jensen’s son is quite motivated to sell,” Mindy answered. “I may be able to negotiate a price drop to account for the new furnace.” Nick looked at Casper and nodded his approval at the suggestion.
“Seriously, Cass. It could be so great. And we’d be neighbors! Just a little bit of work,” Rosa pleaded.
“A little bit?” Nick scoffed. “You watch too many of those shows, babe. It takes longer than forty-five minutes fix something like this.”
“We’d help you out,” Dad promised. “Remember when we replaced the carpet for Nick’s graduation party? We could get it done in a weekend.”
“It’ll cost an arm and a leg,” Mom warned.
Casper rubbed his eyes, his head aching and his eyes watering with the odor. He went to the kitchen window and cranked it open. A glassy blast of cold air broke against his face. He inhaled deeply, letting the iciness numb his agonized nostrils. As he looked out the window, he gazed at the backyard, stretching back to the tree line. Two newer homes sandwiched the Jensen lot, and Casper could see woodsmoke swirling into the gray winter sky. The lot had several large trees, one of them a crabapple, Mindy had informed him.
He could remember tearing through Mom and Dad’s backyard with Nick, hiding behind the old tractor, sneaking through the weedy grass, imagining the rows of silage in the distance were forbidden mountains of snow. He had never understood why Mom was so intent on her unending quest to landscape, ruining the rugged expanse of their property with patches of flowers, prickly shrubs, and flagstones. Thankfully, due to money and time constraints, little had been done in all his years living there, affording their family with a backyard perfect for football, youth group cornhole tournaments, and ultimate frisbee.
As he surveyed the Jensen lot, he could see himself out there with Joule and a dog. With his parents and his brother’s family, and folks from Mercy. With Abby.
He turned and surveyed the house again. His family watched him, waiting.
“Is this real wood?” he asked, rapping on the panelling with his knuckles.
“It certainly is,” Mindy confirmed with delight.
“It’s not that bad. Sort of reminds me of a cottage, actually.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Mindy agreed.
“Totally,” Rosa added.
He put his hands on his hips and ambled around the massive living room. He could imagine building a Duplo town with Joule on the floor, a black Labrador snoring at their feet. He looked out the large window into the gray afternoon, and imagined summer storms rolling in over the fields.
“And the basement is good for tornadoes,” he remarked. Dad and Nick agreed.
It was ugly. But if he turned his head and squinted, he could nearly forget its aesthetic shortcomings. Having grown up in an unsightly, spacious house, he had no difficulty envisioning Joule inhabiting such a home, and making the most of it. Indeed, he could already see him curled up in front of a Christmas tree with a pair of cats, galloping full-tilt through the untidy grass, and playing hide-and-seek in all the cobwebby nooks and crannies of that terrifying basement. Maybe with a brother or sister.
He sniffed and winced. The carpet had to go. And a fresh coat of paint, perhaps.
“Maybe it’s got potential,” he pronounced at last. “And Joule likes the fridge.”
—
He had been a fool for scoffing at Kleen-Sol. Sure, the work itself was tedious and crushed his soul a bit, but he had been able to sock away enough for a fat down payment on the house, and his offer was accepted, even with the furnace contingency. Things were still tight, but he had enough to replace the foul carpet with laminate planks, which was the only essential item that needed to be complete before he could move. Mom had helped him scour the bargain flooring outlet in Monticello, and even though they weren’t able to find enough of one shade for the entire house, he was pleased.
“You know, once the floors are finished, it really won’t look half-bad in here,” Nick admitted, handing him the jig. Casper fitted the next floor plank in place and tapped it in with the mallet. “The exterior is another story.”
“I’ll have to get used to it. New siding is going to cost a fortune.” He sat back on his heels and surveyed what he had finished over the past two weeks. The living room, kitchen, and dining room were golden oak, and the hallway and two bedrooms were floored with warm maple. The final three bedrooms and the bathrooms would be dark cherry.
“No need to rush, I guess. It hasn’t had new siding since the sixties. It’ll be all right for a few more years.” Nick handed him another plank and Casper put it in place, then they both groaned.
“Too long. I’ll cut it.” Casper took the plank into the back bedroom where they had placed Dad’s table saw. The subfloor was covered with sawdust and littered with fragments of planking. Casper took a deep breath, inhaling the bracing, early spring breeze coming through the open window. The cat funk had finally vanished, replaced by the clean smells of fresh air, vinyl, and Home Depot.
Though Dad and Nick had helped him tremendously on the weekends, tomorrow was the start of another work week, and he was determined to finish the floors by Friday. Abby had offered to keep Joule late, but he wouldn’t allow it. Instead, each night after work, he rushed straight to her house where he spent the most enjoyable ten minutes of his day, then armed with singular purpose, tore himself away and took Joule to his parents. Once Joule had been fed and changed for bed, he raced to the empty house, put in his headphones, and worked till he started nodding off while still on his hands and knees.
Casper inspected the cut, blew the dust away, and nodded with approval. He took another look around the room and smiled. He had already decided it would be Joule’s, with two windows that looked on to the backyard. His would be the room right next to it, though it was hard to imagine sleeping apart, even if they were only separated by a wall. Sometimes it was strange to think of the two of them in that vast, sprawling house. He didn’t even own a couch or a dining room table, owning little else but the clothes on their backs. Moving would be a cinch.
Maybe once they were settled, he would call Mindy’s sister’s breeder in Dubuque. The skittering of paws on the floor might help fill in the emptiness.
—
Abby burst through his front door bearing a plastic tote. It was so overstuffed the lid had popped off, and it floated precariously over the stacks of folded clothing. On the side was a masking tape label that read “Boys 2T-3T.” She heaved it on to the floor and panted with her hands on her hips.
“I told you I would have brought it in for you,” he said, grinning. “Doesn’t Sarah need these for Ezra? He’s basically the same age as Joule.”
“She’s already gone through it, believe it or not. And I was directed to tell you that once you’ve taken what you want, pass it on to Emma Dwyer. Her little guy will need it in the fall.”
Casper surveyed the tote. A pair of green corduroys, a boot, and three crumpled t-shirts spilled on to the floor. He rubbed his eyes wearily. All through his life, he had endured the blessing of hand-me-downs, trickling down to him in a benevolent, unending stream before being passed on again. He had never cared one way or another if his clothes were new, but he dreaded going through the boxes. Mom had always forced him and Nick to try on every article so she could evaluate the color, fit, and level of wear. At least Joule’s cherubic proportions were pretty easy to estimate. At 26 months old, he had a big belly and no butt, so he was still wearing 18-month sized bottoms, though depending on the shape and degree of shrinkage, he could wear any shirt in the 2T to 3T range. He was still wearing 12-month sized socks.
“I know I can pass on this at least,” he said with a grim smile, holding up a horrible striped sweatshirt that read “Mommy’s Partner in Crime.” Abby laughed.
“You know, I’ve gotten pretty efficient at going through these bins. Do you want a hand?”
“I can’t ask you to do that, Rice. It’s a beautiful day. And it’s Saturday. Don’t you have plans?” Abby shrugged and brushed aside her blonde bangs with her hand. She dragged the tote across the floor and plopped herself on the fake leather couch Mom had found at Goodwill.
“Make two piles: keep, save for later, and pass.”
“You know, I have done this before,” he said as he joined her. Joule toddled up to them and began rifling through the clothes. Casper reached in front of Abby and pulled out a mass of red felt with two misshapen antennae dangling from the top. “Oof. Is this a costume? What is this creature? A crab or a lobster? Gross. Pass.” Abby caught it and yanked it out of his hand.
“You can’t get rid of this! This costume has been worn to the Mercy Trunk and Treat by a different kid for six consecutive years. Joule, you like this, don’t you?” She asked, holding the thing up for Joule’s consideration. He nodded heartily. Casper snatched it away.
“This antenna is falling off!”
“That’s an eyestalk!” she cried, snatching it back. “It’s supposed to be a snail, Genius.”
“It’s an abomination, and I’m not keeping it,” he said, wadding it up and lobbing it into the pass pile.
“You are keeping it,” Abby insisted, placing it in the keep pile. Casper laughed and tossed it at her.
“Keep it for your own kid.”
“Don’t you realize by now that I’m living vicariously through yours? Over my dead body will you throw this away.” She put the costume behind her as if she were stowing it for safety. “I’ll keep it at my house for Joule to wear this Halloween. Can you live with that?”
“Joule doesn’t wear costumes. I never did and look how normal I turned out.” Abby’s mouth suddenly widened in surprise and delight. “What?”
“Weren’t you really into larp at one time?” No, he wanted to say. “What were you again? The world’s tallest hobbit?” Casper tried not to smile.
“That was different—,”
“Hypocrite!” Abby crowed and jabbed a finger at him. “Hypocrite!”
“—and I wasn’t a hobbit, I was—,”
“A snail?” Abby held the lolling, googly-eyed costume up to him again. He laughed at last and she grinned, revealing the pleasant gap between her front teeth. She’d had it forever, and it afforded her face such an open, irresistible sweetness, that it was impossible not to smile in return. “Joule, come here.” Joule clambered up to her lap and allowed her to slip the costume on over his clothes. “Hold still, Bud,” she said as she tied the felt cap under his chin. Once she released him, Joule scrambled down to the floor and crawled to Casper, the lumpy costume simultaneously hampering and exaggerating his clumsy, eager movements.
“Okay, it’s kinda cute,” he admitted, adjusting the cap when it slid forward over Joule’s eyes.
“This can go,” Abby said, pinching a miniature Cyclones jersey with her fingertips and tossing it into the pass pile. Casper nodded his approval.
An hour later the tote was sorted, and Joule was fully outfitted for the next year, at least.
“That took way longer than it should have,” he pronounced. “I thought you said you were efficient.” He reached into the microwave, grasped a steaming plate of lasagna by the edges and set it on the kitchen table in front of Abby. “Careful, it’s really hot.”
“It’s not my fault,” she shrugged, shaking parmesan cheese over her plate. “You kept fighting me on everything. No good deed goes unpunished. By the way, I hope you didn’t put peppers in this. You know how I feel about peppers.”
“I still can’t believe you had nothing better to do than hang out with me.” He wiped a drop of marinara off his thumb as he scooped a smaller portion of lasagna on to a plastic plate and set it in front of Joule, who preferred his pasta cold.
“Hey, you have your own place now,” she replied. “You’re moving up in the world. Up top.” He high-fived her and started the microwave for his own lunch. “By the way, I asked Pastor Bruce about the nephilim and he thinks they were —,”
“Aliens. I know that.” Abby rolled her eyes.
“Stop making everything about aliens.”
“It’s okay, Rice. I used to be a nonbeliever, too. We can agree to disagree.”
“You’re just afraid to admit that you made a fool of yourself in front of the entire Bible study last week. Always going on about aliens lately.”
“There are sealed documents, footage from Air Force practice drills, and nobody is even talking about the leaks in the Pentagon files.” Joule’s plastic fork clattered to the floor, splattering sauce on the linoleum.
“Believe what you want, Jorgenson. But there were no aliens in the Bible.”
“Aliens, demons — it doesn’t matter what you call them.” Casper picked up a napkin and crouched to clean up the mess. “Everyone jumped down my throat, but I was only arguing for precise semantics. It didn’t help that Kyle left me hanging. I know he believes.”
“Well, Kyle doesn’t like you very much, Jorgenson.”
“Because of you.” The microwave beeped and he took out his lasagna. He pulled out a chair for himself and sat across from her. Abby suddenly blushed.
“You like dis, Dad?” Joule asked, holding up a fistful of ricotta to Casper’s face. Casper nodded and obligingly tasted the proffered food.
“Okay.” Abby put down her fork and clasped her hands. “I’m going to tell you something, but but you have to promise not to judge me.” Casper nodded and waited. She paused for a moment and squeezed her eyes shut. The words came tumbling out. “I dated Kyle for a year and we almost got married.” She forced out an exhale with the effort and took a sip of water.
Casper’s mouth fell open. All the time he had believed Kyle to be a worthy rival for Abby’s attention, with his gentle temperament, sharp wit, and affinity for 19th-century literature. He had been somewhat embarrassed that Abby elected to spend any time with him over someone so obviously superior. He had failed to consider that he had been inadvertently treading on the good man’s heart in plain view of everyone. But at last, the only thing he could find to say was miserably petty.
“Abby, he hates sports!”
“He plays the cello, Casper!”
“I know that! Don’t you think I know that? He’s a prince among men,” he cried, without a hint of irony. “When was this?”
“We broke up three years ago.” Casper considered the troubling new information and scratched his head, marveling, and yet, relieved, that two such perfect individuals had been so close to tying the knot and hadn’t done it. What possibly could have gone wrong?
“What possibly could have gone wrong?”
“This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” Abby said, her eyes downcast. “It makes me look like a monster. A stupid monster.”
“I don’t know about that, but — well, did he do something wrong?”
“Of course not,” she moaned, picking at her cuticles. “No, all he did was propose.” She studied her fingertips and shrugged. “And I said no.”
“Why? You didn’t love him?” She shrugged again, but didn’t look up. He thought he could see tears brimming under her eyelashes. “Hey,” he said gently, “It happens. I’ve been shot down before. He’ll get over it. You’re not a monster. At least you were honest. It would have been far worse to say yes if you didn’t love him.” She sniffed. He handed her a napkin. She said something but it was unintelligible, her voice weakened and tight.
“Abby ky?” Joule leaned toward her with concern.
“I’m okay, Buddy,” she said, smiling at him. She dabbed at her eyes and sniffed again. “Sorry. That took a turn,” she said, grinning bravely.
“Don’t apologize,” he said, taking her hand. “I’m glad you told me. And I don’t think you did anything wrong. Honestly, I like you better not being married to Kyle.” She smiled gratefully, which he didn’t deserve for expressing such a blatantly self-serving sentiment at such a moment. But she didn’t take her hand away.
He hadn’t yet been so direct in his feelings for her, and though it had been an unacknowledged fact between them for months, there had been little impetus to change the status quo. He had been complacently enjoying the easy warmth of her beauty and friendship, and furthermore, he knew he had yet be in a sufficiently respectable financial position to do anything about it. And his house was still kind of gross. Yet, he was holding her hand.
“It’s weird,” she said, leaning her face on her palm and looking him in the eye. “For a while, I didn’t even think you liked me. I mean, as anything but a little sister.”
“Really? I thought I was painfully obvious.”
“But you always called me by my last name!”
“So did you!” She giggled and he grinned.
“Well, it feels nice to know that you like me,” she said simply.
“Same,” he said, meaning it.
“All done?” Joule inquired, holding up his partially eaten lunch. “Wanna get down?” Casper took his plate to the sink and dampened a paper towel. He wiped Joule’s face and hands and set him on the floor. “Where Peppa? Where Silly-Foot?”
“They’re at Grandma’s, Bud. Remember? Want to build Duplo City?” He jogged into Joule’s bedroom and returned with the ancient bin of Duplos. To Joule’s delight, Casper dumped them on the empty dining room floor and sat down. He began picking up the railroad segments and connecting them. “Want to help, Abby?”
She got up from the kitchen table and sat cross-legged next to him. She began stacking the bricks into a multicolored tower.
“Ooh, I’m going to need that clock piece,” he said, holding out his hand. She gave it to him.
“Do you ever think you’ll forgive her?” He was startled by the question. He looked over to see her still slowly stacking blocks.
“Of course,” he said, handing Joule his favorite figure, a yellow tiger. “I have. A long time ago now.”
“But what if she had—,” Abby hesitated and lowered her voice, “do you ever think about what you would have done if she had decided to—,” she glanced at Joule then looked back to him for help. He nodded, understanding what she didn’t want to say. “Would you still have forgiven her?” He knew what he should say, but he didn’t answer. He remembered how frightened he had been. He watched Joule stack the tiger on to a red plastic train car. He patted his son’s back.
“Look! Kiger driving the train,” Joule announced coyly, pleased with himself.
“I don’t know, Abby. I hope I would have, with time. I don’t feel like I have a right to withhold forgiveness from anybody. Not after what I did.” Deep, tender, and scarlet-red. And what was done for him.
Abby leaned against his arm, and laid her head on his shoulder. He nearly started, charmed by her sudden, determined affection.
“Hey,” he said, trying to see her face, “what is it?”
“I just—I would never want you to think badly of me.”
“Not in a million years,” he said. He shifted and encircled her in the crook of his arm. “Hey,” he said again. She looked up at him, pressing her lips in a sweet, defiant smile. He wanted to tell her that she was more than he ever could have hoped for; she had stolen his heart while he helplessly looked on; she was knitted into him with tender, tight cords that bound his very self to hers.
He brushed her bangs from her face and smiled, unwilling to mar the truth with words.
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Katie Bertola 