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GETTING AROUND WITHOUT a car is a new experience, for me. This town is small enough that you don’t really need one if you’re only shopping locally—in fact, the island as a whole is small enough that you can go a good ways on foot—but I’d feel more at ease if I had access to a vehicle.
That’s neither here nor there. I’m not sure why I even mentioned it, except to say that I went out to buy a few supplies this afternoon, and when I got back I found Ness standing outside my door.
My first reaction? Oh good! A visitor!
Of course, that wasn’t the case. When she saw me, she said, “I was just leaving you a note.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, my toilet’s being weird.”
At first, I thought this was merely a casual exchange of information. And then I realized that, as this girl’s landlord, it was my job to fix her weird toilet. Or find someone else to take on the task.
“It’s cold,” I said, digging my keys from my pocket. I wasn’t as confident in small town ethics as my young tenant. Unlocking my door, I said, “Come in for a sec. Let me put down my groceries.”
She followed me inside without removing her boots. I suppose I couldn’t blame her. The floorboards were badly in need of refinishing. They’re constantly catching my socks. Perhaps it was best she left her footwear on.
Still, it’s a sign of respect: you enter someone’s house, you remove your shoes. It’s the done thing.
“What a dump,” Ness said.
While I agreed with her, in theory, I found her delivery irritating in the extreme.
Rather than let on, I said, “Yes, I thought the old owners would have upgraded.”
“They did,” Ness told me, picking up one of my grandmother’s teacups to check out the mark. It was nothing special, and she clearly agreed, because she replaced it on its saucer without comment. “They started with the basement.”
“And stopped there, too.”
A smirk crossed the young woman’s thin pink lips. “Yeah, I think it cost more than they expected to redo the basement—in time, energy, and money. Then they got pregnant, and who’d want to raise a family in a shithole like this?”
“My parents, for one,” I told her.
Ness stood by the Formica table, looking mildly curious. “Your parents owned this house?”
I nodded as I filled the kettle. Shouting over the out-of-control kitchen faucet, I said, “I grew up here.”
Her eyes went wide. Then she shuddered.
“This was quite a few years ago.”
“Obviously.”
“You’re cold,” I said, turning on the stove’s least finicky burner. “I’ll make us tea.”
“You should probably look at my toilet first.”
“Oh. Right.” I’d already forgotten about that small matter. “It isn’t overflowing or anything?”
“No, but it won’t stop flushing.”
That sounded serious. I headed toward the front door, saying, “Best we deal with your problem immediately.”
“No kidding,” Ness said. “Where are you going?”
I stopped when I got to the door. “Your apartment.”
Ness crossed the kitchen. Grabbing the ancient brass handle on the old stuck door, she gave it a good yank and it came open. “This way’s faster.”
“This way?”
When I joined her in the kitchen, she clicked on a light switch. Behind the old stuck door was a freshly drywalled staircase.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. “This was never here when I was a kid. The only entrance to the basement was through the root cellar.”
“Well, it’s here now,” Ness told me as she descended. “The old owners had this long-term plan to incorporate the basement into the whole house once the upstairs was renovated. My rent dollars were supposed to fund the renovations, except it didn’t pan out for them.”
Would it pan out for me?
I could tell Ness was pondering that same question, but she didn’t ask me about my plans. Just as well. I couldn’t have answered. I have no plans. I’m having enough trouble merely existing.
When we arrived at the bottom of the stairs, she pulled a set of keys from her pocket. This door was locked. Meaning she trusted the general population more than she trusted her own landlord. That wasn’t exactly a compliment.
“It’s through here,” she said, kicking off her boots before leading me to the bathroom.
Leaving my shoes on would have been a satisfying payback, but I decided against it. In my stocking feet, I followed Ness to the bathroom, where her toilet water swirled endlessly.
“Does this happen often?” I asked.
She shook her head no.
I lifted the lid on the tank. There was a kink in the chain. I jiggled it until the flap fell to seal the opening. “We’ll just wait for the tank to fill, but I think we’ve solved our problem.”
Ness looked at me with wonder in her eyes. “How did you know what to do?”
“Common sense,” I said with a shrug. And then it occurred to me she might take that as an accusation that she lacked substance. So I added, “Years of experience.”
“With plumbing?”
“With everything.”
As we waited for the water to stop running, I remembered I’d left the stove on upstairs. Without explanation, I rushed past Ness. She must have been curious, because she followed me all the way up and into my kitchen.
Water splashed out of the kettle. I had to wrap a tea towel around my hand to keep from getting scalded as I removed it from the burner, then turned off the stove.
Ness seemed strangely peaceful, whereas I felt completely frazzled. “Hear that?” she asked. “That water downstairs—it stopped running. You fixed my toilet!”
“Oh. Good,” I said. “Good, great.”
“Well, thanks.” She sped to the staircase, closing the door behind her.
She didn’t want tea, I guess. At least, not with me.