Dominic
“Have you thought about what we talked about?” Dominic asked. He was on his knees in Bridget’s laundry room, checking on the linoleum he’d installed a few days prior.
“It does look good. Can’t believe how much better than in the seventies.” She’d shed her ever-present flat fabric shoes for stocking-clad feet. Bridget smoothed her feet over the linoleum near the threshold.
“Lasts longer too. I never thought I’d start suggesting this to people. It’s been all stone and wood for the last twenty years—not that you can go wrong with either of those. But for the cost, this is an excellent environmental choice,” he said as he used the windowsill to bring himself to standing.
She looked through the laundry room window. “Do you think you’ll be able to get the washer and dryer in today?”
The twin appliances were outside in the backyard, where he’d left them last week. The gray skies cast a pall on the aged white enamel.
He surveyed the work he’d done in the last month. Not too shabby for a man taking it easy. The painting had gone quickly. The new cabinet doors were installed on the original bases.
“Only thing left to do is swap out that light fixture. Then I’ll install the appliances. Going to have to get my ladder and dolly…”
“I’ll just—”
“Not so fast. You haven’t answered my question, Bridget.” His voice went from jolly contractor to aggrieved boyfriend in a second. It wasn’t his proudest moment.
“Can we talk when you’re done?”
Frustration churned in his gut. But he didn’t confront her. It wouldn’t be right to leave her without a washer and dryer for another day, so he put on a cap and hustled out to his van.
Three hours later, it was done. He’d put in a bright halogen fixture to replace the twenty-watt incandescent. He’d run some rags through the washer and dryer. Both appeared to work without leaks. The brushed-nickel hardware had been installed on the cabinet doors.
Ginger ale in hand, Bridget wandered in.
“This is amazing, Dominic. I only wish I could pay you. I’ve been doing laundry in near darkness for so many years, I didn’t realize… This is just great, is what it is.”
“You’ll need to decide what you want up there on the window,” he said, gesturing to the unadorned wood frame. He’d pulled down grungy blinds as soon as he’d started the project. The cord had been broken and half-cocked blinds made him feel half drunk every time he’d walked into the tiny room.
“I haven’t sewn in years, but this is inspiring. Maybe I’ll run down to Jo-Ann’s. Look at some fabric for curtains.”
“There are some nice curtain choices at those big-box stores. Not that I’m against do-it-yourself. Depends on how you want to spend your time.” He’d buy the damned curtains himself if it meant they could have a couple of uninterrupted nights together.
“I have lunch ready. If you’re up to it.” Bridget handed him the pop she’d been gripping. “Nothing fancy. Tuna casserole.”
“Bridget?” She turned, standing by the door of the five-foot-by-five-foot space. “We haven’t talked about last weekend.”
Arms crossed tightly across her chest, Bridget let out a puff of exasperated air. “Why do we have to talk about what we are?”
“Because when we don’t, Bridget, I feel like a glorified handyman. One you make lunch for, and bring pop, but not one you can take seriously as a boyfriend.”
“We are too old for words like boyfriend and girlfriend.” Bridget pursed her lips in such a way that aged her twenty years in a minute. He hated that. He liked making her smile a whole hell of a lot more.
“How about lover? Isn’t that what we are, after last weekend? We enjoyed a nice time, dinner was good, that show was funny, then I took you back to my place and made love to you.”
The memory brought a warm flush to his body. It was something he was ready to repeat time and again. No worries about birth control had been sexier than he’d ever thought.
Bridget wiggled like a worm, visibly uncomfortable with his frank talk. “Oh, Dominic, hush.”
“Why should I hush? Neither one of us is dead. It was really good between us. You’re a hell of a free spirit…”
“Shhh.”
“What? We’re alone. We’re consenting adults. We’re single.”
“The casserole is getting cold, Dominic.”
Sexy siren to shushing schoolteacher. He couldn’t wait to get her to take down her hair again. But now wasn’t the time to talk about that, she was right.
“Let’s eat,” he said, following her from the back of the house to the dining room. Once there, he ate while she rambled on a bit about her boys. The youngest wasn’t any closer to getting married than when he’d gotten together with his girlfriend, Sophie.
“Ah, that gal’s a reincarnated hippie,” he said.
“They still live in separate houses,” Bridget said, as if having two addresses was a crime against humanity. Damn. Did he sound like that? If he sounded half as naggy, he’d have to dial back the rhetoric when he talked to Adonis. He wasn’t pushing marriage and babies…well, not so much. What he wanted was his kid to be happy.
“Maybe the younger generation likes it that way,” he said, wishing he could broadcast this discussion to Ryan and Cameron. He could use the points later when they got wind of his relationship with Bridget. “They can have their space and be together. We’re living separately.”
“I worry about Cameron living down south of the ten freeway.” Talk of her youngest, Ryan, abandoned, she moved on to her oldest boy, Cameron.
“He’s a cop. If anyone should live down there, it’s him. He’s probably made the whole neighborhood safer. No one wants to mess with the LAPD.”
“You’re probably right. I think he said something about break-ins in the surrounding few blocks dropping to nearly zero.”
“You don’t have anything to worry about. Your boys have jobs. They’re happy with the women they chose. You did good. The rest of your life is just for you now, you know.” He was pretty proud of himself for steering the discussion back to what they needed to talk about…them.
“When do you think you’ll finish up the powder room?”
Dominic dropped his fork. The stainless steel clattered noisily on the Fiestaware.
“Can we not talk about this house right now? It survived the Northridge quake. It’s not going anywhere. Why can’t we talk about us?” Dominic took as deep a breath as his lungs would allow and got ready to lay it on the line.
“I really like you, Bridget. I don’t know how else to say this, but I’m falling in love with you. I didn’t think I could do that again. I’ve held a torch for one woman so long, that I didn’t think I’d ever find love again. But after these last few months, I know that I want to spend more time with you. I want to go to sleep with you and wake up with you. I want to take you to Europe and feed you a taste of all the different cuisines there. I want you to meet my relatives in Greece. I want to laugh with you and watch our kids make grandbabies. But I can’t do that alone. I can’t make an us if there’s only a me. You’ve gotta gimme something here, Bridge. Is this all one-sided? I thought after last weekend, we were finally of the same mind. If we’re not, I guess you should tell me now.”
“About last weekend…”
“Don’t, Bridge. Please don’t say that last weekend was a mistake. I’m starting to think it’s the only right thing I’ve done in a long time.”
Bridget stood and snatched her half-empty plate from the table. She disappeared into the kitchen. The sound of the tap going on full force let him know she wasn’t coming back anytime soon.
Even though his appetite wasn’t great, he did the polite thing and cleaned his plate, then took it to the kitchen. Bridget had one of those scrubby things in her hand. She was going at the dishes like cheese had been baked into the ceramic. One by one, she jammed things into place on the drain board.
“Dominic, I can’t take you pressuring me. We just met in the spring. Now you’re talking about…practically moving in together. Even Ryan isn’t living with Sophie. Didn’t you just say that’s the modern way?”
“Sophie and Ryan probably have a good fifty years ahead of them. They can take it slow. That DVT taught me one thing, Bridge, that life is short. When I was lying on Gemma Hart’s floor, I wasn’t thinking about kitchen remodels, or whether my retirement fund was in order. I was thinking that if I got off that floor in Malibu, I’d start living every day like it could be one of my last. We’re not young and we’re not old either. I want to enjoy the rest of my days. I’d like you to be part of them.”
“About the bathroom—” She pointed toward the powder room that was a mess after demolition.
“Jesus Christ, Bridget! Forget about that damned bathroom. You live here alone. Use the other one. I checked that and it works perfectly fine.”
“But…”
“What?”
Then it dawned on him. Like an avalanche of snow on his head, he got it.
“You never…oh God, I’m so stupid.” She hadn’t regarded him in the same way he’d thought about her.
“Dominic, it’s not what you think.”
The pain that pierced his heart at that moment must have registered on his face.
“No, Bridget. It’s exactly what I think. I was great fun when I was fixing your roof, or your laundry room, or your sink vanity. But you don’t need me for the long term. You needed a handyman and I served my purpose. Last weekend was nothing more than payment for services rendered, wasn’t it?” God damn. He’d thought at their age, there were no more games to be played.
“Don’t think—”
“All these years and I haven’t learned a single thing. I think I should go. If you tell me when you’re going to brunch with your kids, I’ll use the key you gave me. Come by and finish up. Have a nice…night.”
The crushing weight of the truth propelled him to his car. He made it all of two blocks before he had to pull over. He was an old guy, with a bit of a spreading middle and thinning hair. How he could have ever thought someone like her would be interested…
Dominic beat himself up all the way over the hill and back home. As he pulled into his own driveway, he was feeling more pragmatic. He’d learned two things today. First, that Bridget wasn’t his future. Second, he wanted one. At least he had that.