someone in the not-too-distant past had painted the basement walls light gray. A rolled-up carpet lay on the floor on the far side of the room, and an old table tennis table, folded in half, rested against one wall.
Creepy place for a game room. The air felt wrong .
There was a pile of boxes stacked under the stairs, and more around the other walls. She would have to sort through them eventually. She didn’t want to store someone else’s junk. Hating to admit it, Sami read the handwriting on the wall—Steve was in love.
With the house.
Using a stepladder, she managed to open the windows and let in a little more light. Resisting the urge to rifle through the boxes, she neatly stacked them along one wall, leaving plenty of room for the old furniture. She collected her newly purchased cleaning supplies and spent the next two hours knocking down cobwebs, sweeping up dust, and cleaning the windows. By three o’clock she was filthy, tired, but feeling a little better about having a clean basement.
The basement door opened and Steve poked his head in.
“Sami?”
“Down here.”
He looked around in awe. “Jesus! You went through here like a white tornado. It looks a hell of a lot better.”
She held her tongue and tried to keep the worst of the sarcasm out of her voice. “You’re just in time to help.”
“I haven’t helped you much, have I?” he asked sheepishly, walking over to her.
“No, you haven’t.” He looked remorseful. She felt her irritation slip away. “I know you want to work, but I need some help. Once it’s livable you can lock yourself in your study all summer. Deal?”
He hugged her. “Deal. I’m sorry I’m a schmuck.”
She sighed. “But you’re my schmuck.”
* * * *
They started in the living room, moving the largest pieces first. The couch being the heaviest, Steve took the lead going down the stairs, shouldering most of the weight. The rest of the furniture was fairly easy to move, although traipsing up and down stairs quickly grew old.
“What about the stuff in the kitchen?” he asked.
“No, it stays. I bought a big set for the dining room, but this is good enough for now.”
Not that they would have large dinner parties, but she couldn’t stand the dining room’s empty look.
And it made her feel good to spend the money considering all the bullshit Steve had put her through over the years.
Dark descended as they moved their last load of furniture into the basement.
“I’m done,” she announced. “I’m going to have a good soak.”
He hugged her. “I’ll take care of dinner.”
“Feeling guilty?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” She didn’t care if she sounded bitchy. She was tired, sore, filthy, and wanted him to share her misery for once. She was tired of trying to put on a good show for him so he didn’t feel guilty for acting like a prick.
She settled in the steaming water and groaned as her aching muscles soaked. It allowed her a little time for contemplation, too.
I’m as bad as Mom was. How many years had she witnessed her mom playing peacemaker and giving her father second chances? Fuck me, I joined the codependents club without even knowing it.
She sank lower in the water and wished she was back in Ohio.
By the time she finished, Steve had perfectly cooked steaks and baked potatoes ready.
“Sami, I appreciate you being such a good sport.”
She stared across the table, hoping maybe the bad feelings she’d had for the past several months would be nothing but distant memories very soon. “I wish you’d helped more.”
“I’m sorry.” His eyes brightened. “But wait’ll you hear the great ideas I’ve got for the book…”
Aaannnnd they’re off! He launched into an excited monologue about the novel’s plot, certain the change of scenery must have helped because his mind felt so much clearer, the words flowed into cohesive thought—on and on until she tuned him out, nodding when necessary, wanting to do little more than eat
Creepy place for a game room. The air felt wrong .
There was a pile of boxes stacked under the stairs, and more around the other walls. She would have to sort through them eventually. She didn’t want to store someone else’s junk. Hating to admit it, Sami read the handwriting on the wall—Steve was in love.
With the house.
Using a stepladder, she managed to open the windows and let in a little more light. Resisting the urge to rifle through the boxes, she neatly stacked them along one wall, leaving plenty of room for the old furniture. She collected her newly purchased cleaning supplies and spent the next two hours knocking down cobwebs, sweeping up dust, and cleaning the windows. By three o’clock she was filthy, tired, but feeling a little better about having a clean basement.
The basement door opened and Steve poked his head in.
“Sami?”
“Down here.”
He looked around in awe. “Jesus! You went through here like a white tornado. It looks a hell of a lot better.”
She held her tongue and tried to keep the worst of the sarcasm out of her voice. “You’re just in time to help.”
“I haven’t helped you much, have I?” he asked sheepishly, walking over to her.
“No, you haven’t.” He looked remorseful. She felt her irritation slip away. “I know you want to work, but I need some help. Once it’s livable you can lock yourself in your study all summer. Deal?”
He hugged her. “Deal. I’m sorry I’m a schmuck.”
She sighed. “But you’re my schmuck.”
* * * *
They started in the living room, moving the largest pieces first. The couch being the heaviest, Steve took the lead going down the stairs, shouldering most of the weight. The rest of the furniture was fairly easy to move, although traipsing up and down stairs quickly grew old.
“What about the stuff in the kitchen?” he asked.
“No, it stays. I bought a big set for the dining room, but this is good enough for now.”
Not that they would have large dinner parties, but she couldn’t stand the dining room’s empty look.
And it made her feel good to spend the money considering all the bullshit Steve had put her through over the years.
Dark descended as they moved their last load of furniture into the basement.
“I’m done,” she announced. “I’m going to have a good soak.”
He hugged her. “I’ll take care of dinner.”
“Feeling guilty?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” She didn’t care if she sounded bitchy. She was tired, sore, filthy, and wanted him to share her misery for once. She was tired of trying to put on a good show for him so he didn’t feel guilty for acting like a prick.
She settled in the steaming water and groaned as her aching muscles soaked. It allowed her a little time for contemplation, too.
I’m as bad as Mom was. How many years had she witnessed her mom playing peacemaker and giving her father second chances? Fuck me, I joined the codependents club without even knowing it.
She sank lower in the water and wished she was back in Ohio.
By the time she finished, Steve had perfectly cooked steaks and baked potatoes ready.
“Sami, I appreciate you being such a good sport.”
She stared across the table, hoping maybe the bad feelings she’d had for the past several months would be nothing but distant memories very soon. “I wish you’d helped more.”
“I’m sorry.” His eyes brightened. “But wait’ll you hear the great ideas I’ve got for the book…”
Aaannnnd they’re off! He launched into an excited monologue about the novel’s plot, certain the change of scenery must have helped because his mind felt so much clearer, the words flowed into cohesive thought—on and on until she tuned him out, nodding when necessary, wanting to do little more than eat
Similar Books
