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AS SOON AS I HEARD his car in the driveway, I turned to the mirror. Patting my hair into place, I noticed the little flush to my cheeks, and I wished I could brush it away the same way I could with my flyaways.
It was the third time he had visited this week, and we were really starting to make a difference around the house. There was still a lot left to do—every time I lifted another corner of this place, it seemed as though there were another half-dozen tasks waiting for me underneath it, ready to make my life more difficult—but we were getting there.
We had managed to work out some of the issues with the upstairs bathroom, thanks to a favor Nate had called in with a local plumber. He had seen his sister before her insurance kicked in when she had a bad case of tonsilitis, and he had promised to help out Nate any way he could. The dripping faucet in the bathroom was fixed, and he had even cleaned out the U-bend in the toilet to make sure we wouldn’t have any issues down the line. Thank goodness. I wasn’t sure my mom would be able to handle anyone else getting in here to change the place. She was having a hard enough time with Nate and I.
But she had to admit, things were starting to look a whole hell of a lot better around here. I could tell from the way she smiled as she inspected the house at the end of every day that she was getting used to it. She didn’t like the changes we were making when she heard about them, but when she saw how much better the place looked as a result, she would change up her mind and start to accept it.
“Maybe the bed could go over by the far wall,” she told me as she wandered around the sewing room which had been mostly turned into her new bedroom.
“I thought you didn’t want to sleep in here at all?” I reminded her, teasingly. She glanced over at me and shrugged.
“Well, needs must,” she replied, but I could tell she was starting to warm up to the idea.
Now we had managed to convince her to stay in the bedroom downstairs, we were trying to make everything else on the ground floor as safe as possible, so we could limit the chance of another fall. That started with pulling up the carpet in the living room so we could replace it with new stuff, which would allow for better grip and not peel up at the corners and give her something to catch her toes on when she was walking around.
I’d been moving all the furniture out of there the day before, and it was currently piled up in the hallway, nearly blocking the route to the stairs. I had to pick my way through it carefully if I wanted to get up to my room, which I was still getting used to sleeping in again after all this time.
I managed to heave the giant dresser from mom’s bedroom downstairs all by myself, though I had done some damage to the stairs in the process. It had been worth it; I knew Mom liked to have all of her clothes where she could easily access them, and she was going to be a lot more open to the idea of sleeping down here if she knew all her outfits were there, too. I just had to load them all back into the wardrobe in the meticulous but completely confusing system Mom had put together to sort them out.
“Don’t worry,” she’d told me, when I had shared my confusion about it with her. “I’ll talk you through it.”
I got the feeling it was going to be significantly more difficult than my math minor in college, but I brushed it off. If I could do something to make her feel more comfortable in this newly arranged home, then I was going to do it. I knew it must be a lot for her, to get used to all the ways this was changing, and she was going a good job not completely freaking out. If keeping it that way meant organizing her clothes in some bizarre pattern she insisted on, I would do it.
But, for now, I was going to be helping Nate with the flooring, and I couldn’t wait to get started. I had been looking forward to him coming back all week—and yes, I knew how that sounded. But there was no way I could deny the little flutters in my chest when I saw him, especially when he waved to me as he climbed out of the car. I was getting far too used to having him around.
I smoothed down my hair and silently cursed myself for being so caught up with my crush on him. I was meant to be a grown adult, but something about being back in this house made it hard for me to act like one. I was a lovestruck teenager right now, or that was how I was acting. I needed to remember having a crush didn’t do much to help with improving my mom’s living space.
He headed up to the house, and I opened the door before he could knock, as had become our ritual. He grinned when he saw me—I had noticed his smile was a little crooked, his left side drawing up a little further than his right, but it was so genuine I didn’t even care.
“Hey,” I greeted him as I stepped aside for him to come in. “Can you have a look at something for me?”
“Sure,” he replied, not even questioning it. We were beyond the point where we needed to do the niceties before we got down to business; we had too much to do to get distracted by anything like social pleasantries.
Or maybe I was just avoiding them because I knew it would be all too easy for them to turn into flirtation if I wasn’t careful.
“I was carrying the dresser down the stairs yesterday,” I explained. “And I—”
“I thought we agreed you weren’t going to try that without me,” he remarked, shooting me a hard look. “You could get hurt.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t,” I replied, shrugging. “I did take a couple of chunks out of the banisters, though, could you take a look and let me know how bad you think it is?”
“Sure,” he replied, shaking his head, but he didn’t actually seem pissed off. He followed me to the stairs, and I pointed to the largest chip I had managed to dig out of the wood next to the stairs.
“This is the worst of it,” I replied, and he shook his head.
“You could have avoided this if you waited for me,” he said, and I rolled my eyes at him playfully.
“You keep saying that, and it’s not going to fix the chips in the banister,” I shot back. “What do you think? Too much?”
“It won’t take much to fix it at all,” he replied, rubbing his hand over the spot. “Maybe just a little sanding and some varnish, and it’ll be back to normal.”
I found my gaze lingering a little longer than it should have on his fingers as they traced over the dull wood. His hands were strong, and I had seen them in action a whole lot the last couple of weeks. No doctor should have had hands that looked as good as his did. I had done my best not to pay them too much attention, for fear I would make it obvious I was starting to feel attracted to him.
“Good,” I replied. “I’m glad. I thought I might have cracked some supporting beam or something.”
“You might have,” he reasoned. “But we’ll have to wait and see.”
He flashed me a playful smile, telling me he was only teasing, and then turned and jutted his chin in the direction of the living room.
“We’re starting in there today, right?” he asked.
“We are,” I agreed. “You want to get to it?”
“Sure thing,” he replied, and he allowed me to lead the way down the stairs and into the stripped living room.
“What exactly are we doing in here today?” I asked him curiously. I had to follow his lead on all of this, given that I had no idea what I was doing; he was the one with the expertise, and I was just trying not to do too much damage to the house in the process of keeping up with him.
“We need to sand down the floors and make sure we’ve got a smooth surface for laying down the new carpet,” he explained. “It’s grunt work, but it’s easy. Shouldn’t take too long if we get to it together.”
“Together?” I joked. “I was going to sit and watch you do it, is that not the plan?”
“Yeah, good luck,” he snorted. “Get down here. Come on, I’m not doing this alone.”
I followed his lead, and he handed me one of the sanding boards so I could start scrubbing at the floorboards beneath our feet. It was strange, being in here without any of the furniture or even any of the small details which made up my mom’s life. I had lived in this house for the better part of my life, and it felt as though we were stripping away the life I’d had here while we cleaned it out.
Maybe it was a good thing. Maybe there was something to be said for just scrubbing it all out and starting over. If I had known this was an option, I might not have taken so long to come back. But, as it was, I knew all the walls in this place still held the memories of what had happened, and I was scared something would happen to bring out their truth again.
We chatted as we worked, and I watched as he scrubbed out one side of the room in no time—his strength and focus made it easy for him, and I did my best to try and keep up, even though I was having a hard time with it. I had never really been good with my hands, not the way he was, anyway, but I wanted to change it. I wanted to make it so I could do something useful around here, and the comfort in knowing I was making a positive change helped soothe my aching muscles at the end of each day.
We straightened up again after an hour or so and surveyed our work. The place was starting to look a whole lot better, though I knew it would be improved once we slapped down the new carpet.
“What do you think?” I asked Nate, glancing over at him with a smile. I felt as though we had done a good job, and we deserved at least a coffee for our troubles. But, instead of focusing on the floor we had been working on all this time, he was tilting his head back and looking at the ceiling.
“What is it?” I asked, and I followed his gaze up to the space above him. He was peering at the light, which I’d flicked on when we came in to illuminate our work.
“Is it just me, or is that thing flickering?” he asked me, pointing to the dusty bulb above us.
“Uh, I don’t think...” I replied, but before I could get all the words out, the light flicked on and off above me.
“Oh, shit, I think you’re right,” I muttered, and I went to the switch and clicked it on and off a couple of times. Each time, as it came on, it flickered dangerously, as though it was on the brink of giving out entirely.
“Has it always done this?” he asked, and I shrugged.
“I honestly have no idea,” I admitted.
“We should get it looked at,” he replied, running a hand through his hair. He was just wearing a tee and jeans, and the look of him, a sheen of sweat from the work we’d just done on his brow, was making it hard to think straight.
“Maybe we could take a break first?” I suggested. “We’ve been working all morning. I need a coffee, don’t you?”
“Actually, that sounds really good,” he agreed, flashing me a smile. And, with the way he looked at me, I wondered if something more than coffee was on his mind.
