Authors: Kathryn R. Biel
June brings with it an unseasonably warm streak. Which, when I lived in my apartment, was no big deal. I'd just crank the air conditioning and not worry about it. I'm in my house now. Sort of. Most of my furniture is still in storage in the detached garage. A few things, the essentials, are in the house. My bed, a couch, a small kitchen table and two chairs. I brought my TV in and put it on a box but I find that I rarely watch it. I don't have time with all the work I'm putting in on the house.
Finals are just about done, so tutoring has slacked off, except for those few students who need to go right until the last minute. That will be done next week. I'll be at the restaurant again over the summer. I wanted to take the time off but I need the money now more than ever. I did work with my boss to get a schedule that will allow me as much time to work with Max on the house as possible. I'll work a few lunch shifts, Friday night and a Saturday double. That leaves Max and me all day Sunday, as well as the weeknights he's available.
I don't miss the coincidence that we'll be working on Sundays, just like I used to with my dad.
Our first project had been to pull up the god-awful carpets and refinish the hardwood floors. We started that Memorial Day weekend, after the swelling in my crotch subsided. My bedroom was the first room we tackled, just to make it livable for me. There are no decorations or fancy things in it yet. My clothes are in the closet (or in boxes in front of the closet). I have my bed and a box that doubles as a nightstand. I did paint it, so I could probably move the rest of my furniture in here, but it just seems low on the priority list right now. Along with grooming my cat.
Max and I fell quickly into an amicable working partnership right from the get-go. It's sort of hard to reconcile this easy-going guy with his mother, Helga. In many ways, Max reminds me more of his Aunt Dorothy, who runs the B&B. Max has never mentioned a father or siblings, just his mom and aunt. It's pretty endearing to see how close he is with them.
He's also not that subtle about flirting with me. Truth be told, I enjoy it. I enjoy the attention, and I enjoy that someone as attractive as he is notices me. He's funny and I find myself laughing a lot with him. I think I'd forgotten what it was like to laugh. I'm relaxed around Max. It's refreshing. If I were looking for something more, which I'm totally not, I wouldn't have to look far. I wouldn't want to.
This week we're starting the bathroom. I can still shower at school, and I've rented a portable john for the back yard. Yuck, I know, but the house only has one bathroom. I've researched how to refinish and paint the clawfoot tub to restore it to its former glory. For some reason, someone along the way gutted the original tile and sink. The 1970s brown linoleum is getting ripped out, and I'm replacing it with a period-inspired white hexagonal tile. A pedestal sink will complete the look after white subway tile is added back to the walls. I wish I could do vintage tile, but I am on a budget so the tub will be the only authentic part. Max enlisted the help of a few of his friends to move the tub outside for me. I've got it up on sawhorses while I sand it down. It's hard work, and stripping and sanding the interior is even harder. The heat is not helping.
The sweat is dripping off me. My tank top is soaked, as is my sports bra. I'm wearing a baseball hat to keep the sun off my face but it's just making my head hot. I jump when something cold touches my back, right between my shoulder blades.
"Thought you could use this." Max hands me a large plastic cup filled with lemonade and ice.
I take the cup and smile. "How did you know?"
"It's freakin' hot today." He's always doing nice things like this for me. He's a genuinely nice guy.
"Ain't that the truth? Plus, being out in the sun working on this tub. Who knew stripping was this hard?" The words are out of my mouth before I even realize it. I see Max's eyes dart up and down my body. If I weren't flushed from the heat and humidity, I'd probably be turning beet red. With my free hand, I rip off my cap and shake my hair out.
"Aww, come on. You cannot do that to me."
I take a sip of my lemonade and sit down on an upside down milk crate. "What?"
"That whole hair shake thing, like you're in a music video, especially right after you've mentioned stripping." Max plops down on another crate. He's facing me and I'm trying hard not to meet his gaze. His light blue eyes are intense and I could easily get sucked into them.
"It's called I'm-trying-to-avoid-heat-stroke. Whose brilliant idea was it to refinish this tub?"
"That would be you. You're the boss."
"And don't you forget it," I say with a wink. Crap. I have got to stop flirting with him. It seems like the longer we work together, the more and more innuendos and double entendres slip out. It's flirting via witty banter, and I can't have it.
"How are things going inside?" Max is tiling while I'm working on the tub.
"Pretty good. The walls are ready to be grouted, and then we'll get the floor down."
"How do you think it looks?"
"This is your vision, Sadie, not mine."
"Does that mean you don't like it?" I can't help but pout a little. Yes, it is my house. It is going to be done the way I want it. But that doesn't mean that I don't want Max's approval. We've become close over the past three weeks. We work side by side almost every week-night. I don't see him on Fridays and Saturdays because I'm waitressing to finance this project. I don't ask what he does then. I don't want to know. In other words, I'm afraid he's got a girlfriend. Not that he's ever mentioned one.
I like Max. A lot. I know I can't, but I do. He's almost too good to be true. And what's not to like? He's gorgeous. He's funny. He's handy and good with his hands. I'd like to find out how good. Dammit, I cannot be thinking about that! Even though Therese has tried to tell me time after time I'm being irrational (well, she calls it crazy), I can't help but feel that somehow, being involved with me, will mean that something bad will happen. I like Max too much to predict his death. I know, crazy.
"I think it's coming out great. Very authentic to the house and the period."
"That doesn't sound convincing. What's your design style?"
"1980s flea market."
"Oooh, that's an under-valued niche."
"I don't spend much time at home. It's a place I sleep when I don't stay at the B&B. It's not really
home
, you know?"
"I know. That's why I'm working so hard to make this home. Plus, what else am I going to do with my time?"
He's quiet for a minute. I'm looking around my small back yard, already thinking of the things I will need to do out here. "So ... that boyfriend you were with at the B&B ... I take it you didn't reconcile?"
Now I'm looking at the ground by my feet, unable to meet Max's gaze. "No," I say, barely audible.
"Are you still in love with him?"
Why, why, why is Max bringing this up? There can only be one reason Max is bringing this up, and I don't want to think about it. He's fishing to see if I'm available. I'm not. Not because I'm taken, but because I like him too much to kill him off.
"That situation got really complicated." I look up at him and I see his mouth open, I'm guessing to ask for details. I'll never know because we're interrupted by the most annoying sound in the world—my sister's voice.
"Oh Jesus! What the hell are you doing back here? I've been at the door, banging and banging. Jesus, this place is a disaster."
I look up. I haven't seen Jenna since the wake. My mother has begged and pleaded with me to call her, to reconcile. I just can't. Check that—won't—do it. I have no use for her in my life. Yet here she is, intruding on my little oasis of happiness.
"Hasn't anyone told you it's hot out? Can we please go inside where it's cool?"
I just look at her, still too stunned to speak. Apparently, I don't need to, 'cause it looks like she's going to do all the talking today. "What the hell happened to you? You look disgusting. You have shit all over your face."
"Nice to see you too, Jenna. You can leave the way you came in."
"Is that any way to greet your sister?"
"As far as I'm concerned, I don't have a sister."
I look over at Max, who is trying to keep a neutral look. I know him well enough to know that he wants all the juicy details. He's into gossip. He gets a lot of it at the B&B. He's worse than Therese.
"Well, maybe your friend is less rude. Aren't you going to introduce us?"
"Nope."
"Sadie, don't you think this has gone on for long enough?"
"'Til the day I die will not be long enough!"
Max stands up. "I'm gonna get back to work. If you'll excuse me."
We both watch him walk away. What a fine sight. I only wish that Jenna couldn't see it. She sits down on the crate that Max has vacated. She's wearing a tunic tank top that is light and flowy. In all reality, I think it's really cute and if our universe were different, I'd ask her to borrow it.
"How can you stand to work out here? It's so hot."
"The tub isn't going to refinish itself."
"Why don't you just buy a new one?"
"Because this is still in good shape. Do you know what a new one would cost? Why am I even asking that? Of course you don't. You've never worked a day for anything in your life. You just take, take, take. You wouldn't know what it's like to earn something, to make something. You just think the world should hand everything to you on a silver platter just because you're you."
She's quiet, playing with a strand of her red hair. "I used to be like that. I'm different now."
"No, you're not. You haven't changed in the past three months. You're you and you'll never change."
"That's not true. I have changed ... because of what happened."
"Because everyone knows what an evil, conniving snot you are? That you stole my boyfriend? That you were jerking him off while he was driving and he died because of it?"
She stands up, affronted that I'd even brought that stuff up. "No, because of
this
!" She pulls her shirt tight to reveal a very small bulge.
It's worse than a knife to the gut. All of the pain and sorrow comes rushing back. Pushing that down, I just focus on how much I hate my sister.
"Get out. Now. I don't ever want to see you again."
She starts to walk away. Max slowly exits the back door, I presume to check on me. Jenna looks over her shoulder and then stops. Turning around, she says, "I can't believe my own sister would be so hateful and spiteful. You know what, you're just jealous. I finally have something that you don't have."
I spy a hammer out of the corner of my eye. Before I even know what I'm doing, I've picked up the hammer and am hurling it in her general direction. She jumps out of the way, and the hammer lands with a soft thud in the boxwoods that border my property.
"What are you? Some kind of deranged freak? Are you trying to kill me?"
"Get off my property or I will have you arrested for trespassing!" I shout. My sister has little shame, but prison is probably the one thing that scares her, so she finally hightails it around to the front of the house. Wearily, I sink back onto my milk crate and put my head between my legs while I try to catch my breath.
"I bet your family gatherings are pretty entertaining."
"I wish I could say that this is unusual, but it's a typical performance for Jenna."
We're both quiet for a minute. Before I know it, I'm talking. Not really to Max but more to try for myself to work out what just happened. "I can't believe she's pregnant. She's going to be someone's mother. I ... just ... can't ..."
"She doesn't seem the calmest person, although you were the one who threw the hammer."
"She deserves it. She deserves so much
more
."
"Wow. Remind me not to get on your bad side."
I didn't want to go here with Max. I wanted to let the past stay in the past and move forward. But the past has an uncanny way of popping up when I wish it wouldn't.
"So, you remember Valentine's Day Eve? You were asking earlier about the guy I was with. Well, after the bat incident, he told me he was leaving. We'd come up in separate cars, but I drank too much to drive home. When he still said he was leaving anyway, I ended it. I realized I deserved better than him."
"Yeah, you do."
"You're not kidding. Rob—Robin—to be accurate, left me, and came home to my sister. With whom, it turns out, he was also sleeping."
"Ouch."
"Yeah, but wait, there's more!"
"More? I'm afraid to ask."
"You should be. Do you remember that there was a bad car accident on Marysville Road that morning? You warned me about it. He was in the accident. With my sister. Rob was killed."
"I vaguely remember. He was with your sister? He left a weekend with you and went right to her?"
"Apparently, he had just proposed to her, and she was giving him a happy ending. It was too much; he lost control of the vehicle and drove into a tree."
"Wow."
"Yeah. So, yeah."
"And now ...?"
"Apparently she's pregnant. I'm guessing it's Rob's, although with Jenna you never can be too certain." And with that, the tears start to flow. Through my sobs, I say, "You know, I've cried more than I want to admit about this whole situation. I thought Rob was going to propose to me that weekend. Then, to find out he proposed to Jenna instead. And now, on top of it, a baby." And when those words are out of my mouth, the floodgates open, and I'm doing that ugly cry thing.
I'm not even aware of Max moving toward me until I'm in his arms. Sobbing, snotting all over the place. My tears are hot as they stream down my cheeks. I try to stop but the more I try to stop, the more I cry. It feels good to be able to lean on someone, even if for a brief moment. Max doesn't say anything, but I feel a quiet support in his presence. Finally, he says, "Do you feel better now?"
"No, I'm not sure I'll ever feel better about this. Certainly not when there's a baby to remind me."
"You're not the one stuck raising the kid. She is. As far as I can tell, it's totally not your problem."
"Aaahh, you don't know my dysfunctional family. What's Jenna's problem is the whole family's problem. As you can see, she sought me out."
We've separated now, and I'm in desperate need of a beer. I open up the door and Max reaches forward, holding the door for me as I enter in. I head right down the hall and to the kitchen. Taking out two bottles, I pop the caps and set them on the small kitchen table. Plopping down, I take a long pull before I start speaking again.
"It's not supposed to be like this. I'm not supposed to hate my sister. But for this, I do, and I always will."
Max looks at me thoughtfully. "It's not like you had any idea they were sleeping together. And he's already been punished enough, don't you think?"
"No, it's not the sex thing. Well, it is but not. Oh, I don't know." I don't want to talk about the real issue. But then, suddenly I do. I've kept it pent up for too long, and Jenna just poured a whole lot of lemon juice on my paper cuts.
"I had a miscarriage seven months ago. I was eleven weeks along, so I would have been due any day now."
"Oh."
"Yeah, no one knows. I mean, I told my best friend, Therese, but that's it. The only other person who knew was Rob. He was not pleased, to say the least. I don't think he wanted kids. I've wondered since he died if that's what drove him to start hooking up with my sister."
"So this is going to be hard then."
"Any way you slice it."
After a long pause, Max says, "So this is nice and uncomfortable."
It's enough to get me laughing. Yeah, that's the story of my life. Nice and uncomfortable. "It's just not fair, you know? I'm the one with the stable job. I would never have done something so reckless as what she did that caused Rob's death. Why does she get to be the one to have a baby and not me?"
"A baby or Rob's baby?"
I think about that for a minute. "A baby."
"Then there's time. You can find someone else. You will find someone else. You're a great catch, you know. Plus, this house is going to be such a draw."
"I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I'm off men."
He raises an eyebrow. "You're a switch hitter? I never would have guessed that."
Laughing again, I swat at him playfully. "No, I'm off dating."
He grabs my hand and holds it. "Just because Rob didn't treat you right, it doesn't mean every guy out there will treat you badly too." He's looking into my eyes, and I know what he's trying to do. I want to say yes, and I want to let him. But something in my stomach tells me no. I have to listen to that inner voice.
Slowly, I pull my hand back. "No, it's not that. I, I have my reasons. I don't want to get into it, but it's how I've decided to live my life." How do I tell him that I'm a freak with a crazy psychic ability that kills people?
We get back to work, but the easy feeling has slipped away, and it's more an uncomfortable silence. I feel Max watching me expectantly. Eventually he goes back into the house. The thought of the baby pops up again. Not that I'd gotten over my boyfriend sleeping with my sister, because I hadn't, but I was trying to move on. Now, there would be no moving on. Forever, there would be a piece of Rob in our family, inserting himself in the middle of us. Oh, geez, that sounds dirty. You know what I mean.
My heart's no longer in refinishing my tub. However, if I don't finish stripping and sanding it today, I'll be behind schedule all week. I don't want that to happen, so I crank on some 80s music and throw myself back into stripping.
"Sadie ... Sadie ... SADIE!"
I am so lost in my work that I don't even hear Max calling me. I look around. It's dusk. Where did the day go? "Oh sorry. I was sort of focused."
"I get that. It's looking great."
I step back and admire the tub, now free of any rust or cracked paint. I'll seal it tomorrow and then paint it after that. "I'm going to paint the outside black and the inside and lip white so it will really pop. I'm undecided about the feet, whether to paint them chrome or black."
"What about white?"
I squint while I look at the tub, trying to envision it. "Yeah, that might work too. And it would save me from having to buy the chrome paint. Any little bit of savings will help." I wipe the sweat from my brow on my arm. In doing so, I'm exposed to my own rank smell, which is the result of an honest day's work spent slaving away in the sun. "Ugh. I need a shower. And since my tub is out here, that's going to be an issue. I hope it's not too late to drop in on Therese."
"Hadn't you thought about this?"
"Honestly, not that much. I figured I could shower in the morning in the gym at school, but I didn't count on the fact that I'd be so disgusting I'd need to shower before I went to bed."
"Where does Therese live?"
"Over in Terrenceville."
Max looks at me for a minute. "I only live about five minutes from here. Why don't you just come over and get cleaned up? We'll order some food and eat too. You've got to be hungry."
One part of me is shouting "YES! YES! YES!" which makes me want to say "NO! NO! NO!" But I am tired, and it will take me at least thirty minutes to get to Therese's. This is so much closer and involves food. And Max. Easy decision.
I gather up my stuff, which is basically just a new pair of shorts and tank top, fresh underclothes, and a toiletries bag. I make sure I have a comb and my favorite pair of flip flops. Have I mentioned how much I love summer?
"That's it?" Max is looking at my rucksack.
"Yeah. Why?"
He shakes his head. "Just used to a different kind of girl, that's all."
I ignore that softball he lobs me, although I'm dying to know what he means by that. I follow him to his house, which is actually seven minutes away. Crap. I don't like that he lives close. It's too-easy access.
Walking through his front door, I can see that Max was not lying about his decorating style. The floors are a brown and gold linoleum in the foyer. In the living room, there are gorgeous wood floors. They're easy to miss because there's an oversized, salmon-colored sectional that takes up more than half the room. Shiny brass and glass end tables bookend the sectional. It's like 1985 threw up in here. He points to the bathroom, and the decor only gets worse. The oval spa tub, extra low toilet and the sinks are all teal green. The teal is offset by geometric patterned wallpaper and again, shiny brass fixtures. Blech.
That being said, he has a functioning bathroom, so as my dad always said, "In the valley of the blind, the one-eyed man is king."
The shower feels great and I emerge as a new and better-smelling, woman. Now I can bust on Max about the decorating style. He's on his couch, feet propped up in the recliner end of the sectional, and a beer in hand. There's another beer and a Chinese menu on the coffee table.
"I'm starving and you must be too. They deliver, so tell me what you want, and I'll call an order in."
YOU! A voice screams in my head. Damn it! Why does everything this man says or does provoke a potential sexual comment from me? I try to regroup and pick the food I think I'll be able to eat the easiest. The last thing I need is for Max to see my ineptitude with chopsticks and think I'm even more of a train wreck than I appear to be.
Max calls the order in, and then we have to fill that awkward silence while waiting for the food to arrive. Looking around the living room, I'm too distracted by the hideous decor to think about anything else. "You weren't kidding when you said your style was 1980s garage sale." I take a seat on the other part of the sectional. Far enough away to behave myself but not so far as to appear rude.
"Actually, I didn't buy all this stuff myself." He smiles proudly.
"Dear Lord, I would hope not."
"It's sort of ..."
"Interesting? Intriguing? Electric?"
"Abhorrent is the word I think I'm looking for. Hideous would work too. And what kind of description is electric?" Although, even though I won't admit it out loud, this couch is very comfortable. I could see taking a nice Saturday afternoon nap on it someday.
"You know, the opposite of sedate and humdrum." He's freshly showered and in a clean pair of jeans. He must have used the other bathroom while I was showering.
"Well, it is anything but that."
"This was my aunt's place. I inherited it from her."
"Dorothy?" This couch is really comfortable. I'm sort of having a hard time keeping my eyes open.
"Oh, that's right. I forgot that you knew her. No, my father's sister. She passed away about five years ago."
"I'm sorry about that. Were you close?"
"No, not at all. I was pleasantly surprised when I got the call from her lawyer. I didn't really even know her. My dad passed away when I was two, and we drifted apart from his side of the family. I don't think they ever liked my mom in the first place, and she wasn't the easiest to get along with while she was grieving." Max looks around the room, a wistful look on his face. I wonder if he's thinking about his dad or the aunt who left him this house.
"Helga? Hard to get along with? I can't imagine that in the least."
"So, you've never really told me, how do you know my mom?" Max stretches his arms up and folds them behind his head. He looks relaxed and comfortable.
"She hasn't told you?"
He shakes his head. "Nope."
"My dad is one of her patients in the nursing home. He's been there for almost four years. He had a stroke, and all the greatest treatments were not enough to make up for a surgeon's incompetence. So there he is, motionless and helpless. He's on your mom's unit."
"Oh, well, now makes sense that she wouldn't tell me how she knew you. Privacy laws and all that nonsense." He pauses, looking at me for a minute. I can tell by the inquisitive look on his face that he's going to start asking me a lot of questions. That man's face reads like an open book. And then he starts. "Tell me about your family."