Chapter Thirteen

Elijah

 

My eyes were barely open when my phone started ringing. My hand reached out from under the blankets, fumbling for the noisy device vibrating across the nightstand. Ugh.

“Hello,” I answered, pulling the phone under the blankets with me, neglecting to check who was calling before answering.

“Hey, Elijah, hope I didn’t wake you,” John Sanderson’s voice beamed into my ear.

“No, not at all,” I growled.

“I have the realtor coming into the house in a couple hours, and I thought you might want to hear what she has to say about getting the house on the market,” he explained.

Hearing the possibility of unloading the house of bad memories pulled me out of my grog. “Yes, I’ll be there. Thank you,” I replied, clicking the off button, and sliding out of the bed to my feet. Coffee. I’m gonna’ need some coffee.

I knew John said he’d have a realtor inspect the place, but I didn’t expect it to happen so quickly. I really hadn’t got much done there, other than cosmetic issues, and ridding the house of the smell. Hopefully there wasn’t much more to do, and I could go home, and back to my life. My life? I stared in the mirror at my tired eyes, scruffy face, and noticed a hint of gray in my whiskers. What was waiting for me back in Miami? Nothing.

After two cups of the cheap hotel coffee provided with the complimentary coffee maker from the eighties, a quick shower, and a stop at the bakery Madison owned, I was ready for my realtor meeting.

Madison ogled me when I walked into her shop and smiled like a lunatic when I ordered. I was curious what Taylor had said to her about me, but I knew better than to ask. Her smile said plenty. It was obvious she knew about our night together.

John motioned me into his office as I entered the building. I passed by my dad’s old office, noticing a young woman in a pantsuit inside. Guess they are eager to get the place cleaned out. It was nice and organized now; no more of dad’s junk.

“Good morning,” I greeted John, and then turned to an attractive woman wearing a bright green skirt that showed off her long legs, and a white blouse, unbuttoned enough to show off her cleavage. “You must be Elijah,” she greeted me, extending her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she added with a smile.

Once all the niceties were complete, she got straight down to business. “I have the report from the inspector, and it’s quite extensive,” she shoved down my throat. Fuckin’ wonderful.

“What are we talking about?” I asked reluctantly.

The woman who had introduced herself as Marie Gilbert started rambling about roof repairs, foundation issues, window replacements, and a dozen other jobs that needed to be completed before the house could go on the market. “Once the repairs are complete, I’d be happy to list the house,” she smiled. Yeah, I bet.

“How much?” I asked, curious about the amount of money I stood to make from the place; hopefully enough to make it worth my while.

The number she threw out wasn’t as large as I expected, but then she explained that was deducting the material and labor cost for the repairs. “I’ll fix it myself,” I insisted. I wasn’t putting any money into that hell hole. I’d put my time, my energy, but not my money.

“Well, that is a huge list of repairs for one person to take on. I’ll give you the numbers of local contractors in the area that I trust to do a good job for a reasonable fee,” she insisted.

John hadn’t said much during the meeting, but the look on his face told me he wasn’t aware of the amount of work the house required until now. “If you want, I can handle this so you don’t have to stay on the island,” he offered after Ms. Gilbert handed me the list of names, the report, and left the office.

I thought about Taylor. I wasn’t ready to leave yet. “No, I can handle it,” I assured him. “Looks like you got dad’s office all cleaned out,” I commented.

“Yes. Our newest partner was in a smaller office, so she cleared everything out over the last few days. Everything is in the storage room if you want to go through it,” he offered.

“No. I don’t want anything,” I grunted.

I pulled up to my childhood home, parking my dad’s old car in the drive. It suddenly looked so different, so tattered and neglected. With the list of repairs on the passenger seat, my heart felt heavy that it had been left in such bad shape. The drunken old man that lived there neglected everything in life, especially me.

Walking around the house, I noticed the sagging gutters, the two windows that had rotting wood around their frames, and the patio that was green with algae and stains from the dropping leaves from nearby trees. The pool; goddamn pool. I knew I’d finally get my chance to fill it, after scrubbing it, and repainting the fuckin’ thing. It wouldn’t be for me, but for some other lucky little kid whose daddy loved him.

“Hey, Elijah,” I turned to find Clinton, the neighbor standing at the fence that separated the houses. “How’s the project going?” he asked.

“It’s going,” I laughed anxiously. It was going, straight to hell.

“That invitation for dinner still stands. I’d love the chance to talk to you about your father,” he pushed.

There wasn’t any part of me that wanted to sit across the dinner table from a complete stranger and talk about my old man. What the fuck did he know? “I’ve got a lot to do here, more than expected. I don’t know I’ve got the time to reminisce about the old man,” I snarled.

“I understand. If you change your mind,” Clinton offered, obviously disappointed at my decline.

I didn’t even bother going inside. The list was accurate, even though I didn’t want to believe it. There was enough to keep me busy outside for the next few days, so I headed to the hardware store to pick up supplies.

Old man Frank still ran the hardware store in town, but just a little slower. “I’m sorry about your father,” he consoled, but left out the part of him being a good man like others had added. He’d seen me in the store with my old man before, him drunk, cursing at me, and smacking me in the back of the head. I was certain old man Frank wasn’t too keen on my father, but he never spoke poorly about anyone. “If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all,” my eighth-grade teacher’s voice sounded in my head. I held back the chuckle as I remembered sitting in her classroom with Akoni, the kid who was the size of a sumo wrestler. That’s what I called him, not realizing how hurtful my words were at the time. I was a kid, a punk, and I didn’t know any better. It wasn’t like I had the best role model.

“Elijah?” a familiar female voice caused me to turn. Kellie Kamaka stood in the aisle near the bin of nails, a little girl, maybe three years of age gripping her hand.

“Kellie,” I greeted, trying to sound excited, even though I wasn’t. She was prom queen, head cheerleader, and queen bitch. We’d hooked up last time I was on the island, maybe four years ago.  She looked good, long black hair, big brown eyes, and lips so voluptuous and plump they could suck start a truck. I barely remember the hookup, but I hadn’t forgotten her endless calls to my phone afterward. I didn’t need that kind of needy in my life, not then, and not now.

“It’s good to see you,” she smiled. The little girl attached to her hand looked up at me with a smile. She was cute, like her mother, and probably just as high maintenance. “What are you doing home?” she asked.

Home? This wasn’t my home. Miami was my home. “Tryin’ to get the old house fixed up and sold so I can get back to the states,” I explained.

“I heard about your dad. So, you’re not staying then?” she questioned.

“No.”

“Maybe we can get together before you leave?” she suggested, her eyelashes batting in my direction.

“I’m gonna be busting ass at the house. It’s in pretty bad shape, so not sure I’ll have a lot of time,” I responded.

“I’m Bailey,” the little girl let go of her mother’s hand and took a step towards me. “I’m three,” she held up three fingers.

I knelt down. “Nice to meet you, Bailey. I’m Elijah,” I introduced myself.

She stuck out her hand towards me. I took her little fingers into my palm; they were sticky as I shook them gently. Kellie’s eyes were on me, filled with that same clinginess I’d seen when I was here last. I quickly stood back upright, “I better get the rest of these supplies. It was good seeing you,” I rushed her off.

“Maybe I’ll stop by the old house,” she warned with a wink, and then turned to walk away. Little Bailey looked over her shoulder as her mother pulled her little arm towards the front door. She smiled at me and waved as they exited the store. Cute kid, but probably a handful. I was glad I only hooked up with Kellie once. I didn’t see a ring on her finger, but I was certain there was some poor bastard out there kicking himself for knocking her up. She was the type that would grab him by the balls, owning him for the next eighteen years. No thanks. That was a dodged bullet for sure.

I pushed a pressure washer to the front of the store and then ordered a five-gallon bucket of paint for the pool, new gutters, and the wood for the windows that needed to be repaired. “Getting the place fixed up to stay or sell?” old man Frank asked as he rang me up.

“Sell,” I replied.

His eyes were kind and soulful as he nodded in my direction. “Can’t say I blame ya,” he smiled.

I nodded and passed him my card.

“It was good seeing you,” he said as he handed me my credit card back.

“I’ll be back, a lot,” I chuckled nervously, realizing this was just a drop in the bucket of what was needed to finish the old place.