April - three years later

 

“Can we get a dog?”

“A dog?” Kat echoed as she and Mia walked home from Mrs. Bradshaw’s.

“Yeah. We need a dog. All happy families have dogs and we’re a happy family, right, Momma?”

“The happiest, but I don’t think we’re ready for a dog. They’re a lot of responsibility and who would take care of the dog while I’m at work and you’re at Mrs. Bradshaw’s?”

“He could come to Mrs. Bradshaw’s with me.”

“I don’t think Mrs. Bradshaw would like that too much, babe.”

“Yes, she would. Mrs. Bradshaw’s my friend,” Mia replied as if her friendship with her sixty-eight year old babysitter was validation enough.

“I know she’s your friend, but I think Mrs. Bradshaw’s allergic.” The fib rolled off her tongue with zero hesitation. They could not have a dog. Her plate was full enough.

“What’s ‘lergic?”

“Allergic is when something makes you sneeze and makes your eyes itchy.”

“Oh.” Mia pouted.

She’d perfected the pout by the time she was a year old. Kat hated to disappoint her, but their situation didn’t allow for a dog.

“Besides, I’m not sure Dr. Stevens allows pets.” Mia’s face scrunched up as she stared off into the distance. She was never silent for long, so Kat quickly tried to come up with a better argument.

The Dr. Stevens excuse was solid. He was the owner of their house as well as Kat’s boss, and as the landlord he’d have final say in issues such as dogs and other pets. But in reality, Kat couldn’t imagine him saying no. The man spoiled Mia rotten. Hopefully Mia never got around to asking him herself. She could ask for a giraffe and Dr. Stevens wouldn’t deny her.

“A stick!” Mia yelled with excitement as she snatched up the twig.

Crisis averted. Thank God for broken branches and three-year-old attention spans.

As they turned onto their street Mia chattered about the spring flowers starting to bloom and pretended her stick was a magic wand. During the day someone had switched the For Sale sign on the old vacant farmhouse to Sold.

“Oh, look, Mia. Someone bought that house. Maybe they’ll have kids your age.”

They scrutinized the neglected home from the ramshackle roof and dilapidated shutters.

“Maybe they’ll have a dog,” she suddenly cheered.

Shit. Crisis reinstated. Stay calm. “Or maybe they’ll have a little three-year-old like you.”

“I’m three! They can be my friends!” She exclaimed, finally comprehending.

“I know. Wouldn’t that be nice, to have some new friends on our street?”

“Yeah! And they’re gonna wanna play tag with me!”

“I’m sure they will. I wonder when they’re moving in.”

“Let’s say hi!”

Mia scampered toward the house’s driveway and Kat quickly took her hand, slowing her determined steps. “No, babe. They didn’t move in yet. They may not be here for a while. See how there isn’t a car in the driveway?”

“Oh. Maybe they’ll be back in five minutes.”

Kat’s shoulders sagged. She pinched the bridge of her nose and reminded herself that her daughter’s tenaciousness was a blessing no matter how tedious it became at times. “Maybe.”

Nudging her along, they continued home. At the old oak tree that marked the edge of their property Mia bolted up the porch steps of their cottage. Two rockers sat on either side of the paned window, adorned with a cedar flower box.

The garden needed tending, but was lovely nonetheless. Kat loved their home, from the white clapboard siding with black shutters to the brass knocker on the shiny, red front door. The backyard, outlined by a white picket fence, only added to its charm.

Unlocking the front door, Mia dashed through the small, antiquated kitchen and into the living room. The afternoon sun highlighting the wood floors in a deep, honey gold glow as it filtered through the many windows. The TV clicked as the ever-present sound of cartoons filled their home.

Kat hung Mia’s backpack on the coat tree with her purse and headed into her bedroom to change. Off came her stockings, skirt, bra, and blouse. And on went her cotton tank top and yoga pants. Grabbing a hair tie from her dresser, she pulled her hair into a sloppy knot on top of her head as she headed back to the kitchen.

“You want apple juice or milk?” she called.

“Apple juice.”

Kat poured the juice into a cup, grabbed two cookies from the jar on the counter along with a paper towel. Placing the snack on the coffee table in front of Mia, she sat next to her on the couch, and pulled her into her arms for a bear hug. “I missed you, babe.”

The familiar scent of baby shampoo and sweet spring air greeted her.

Mia wrapped her arms around her neck. “I missed you too, Momma.” Mia cuddled into her side and sipped her juice as she stared at the television. Quiet.

Running her fingers through Mia’s strawberry blonde curls, she smiled. This was the best part of her day. Work was over, obligations were met, and all she needed to focus on was Mia.

“What’s today?”

“Tuesday.”

“Macaroni and cheese night!”

Her income only covered the basics. They rented the house from her boss, who could probably get twice as much from another tenant, but insisted they take it. Owning a home on her salary never crossed her mind, but renting a house—well, that was the next best thing.

It wasn’t fancy. The cottage was the smallest house on the street. Aside from the quiet neighborhood, the one-story home boasted a small eat-in kitchen, one bathroom, a living room, and two bedrooms. It wasn’t perfect, but it was their home and they loved it.

Kat was meticulous about keeping it clean and organized. She definitely had some strong Virgo tendencies. Her cupboards were labeled, her clothes coordinated by color and season, and her menus were always the same. It was structured, but she savored the predictability of their life.

Every weekday Mrs. Bradshaw watched Mia while Kat worked for Dr. Stevens as a secretary in New Castle. Dr. Stevens was a psychologist. The office was usually quiet and empty except for her, the doctor, and the client of the hour. She spent her days filing, making coffee, answering phones, and sorting mail. Her boss was a very sweet, tolerant man she was grateful to know—grateful Mia had the chance to know such kindness as well.

Her entire world was Mia. Their life was structured at a level she could control and that was the way she liked it. Aside from Jade, they rarely had company. Kat’s parents were forever making excuses why they couldn’t visit, and after three years she learned to take what she could get. Sometimes it was healthier to accept the reality of situations, rather than hope for change. And the reality was, her parents never got over her getting pregnant in high school. They loved Mia, but their relationship never quite recovered from the blow of disappointment Kat delivered the spring of her junior year.

Her father only spoke in terms of minimum courtesies and her mother chose to ignore her opinions altogether, replacing them with her more pretentious beliefs. Self-important, superficial, never ending socialite crap was what her mother’s views usually consisted of, but Vivian had made an art of harping on the displeasures of life. Kat usually agreed with her just to shut her up. There was no use arguing.

Her parents were both politically active, public figures. They lived in the nicer residential section of Parkside, where Kat’s father had been the Mayor for twelve years and her mother campaigned for many different charities—because it was expected. This month’s cause was the new animal shelter.

Phone calls were often and tedious. Kat typically mumbled sounds of agreement until her mother exhausted herself and ran out of complaints. That was all Vivian really ever wanted anyway, someone to agree with her and tell her how valid and justified she was.

As the only child, Kat didn’t have siblings to distract her mother. The only thing worse than her mother’s phone calls were Sunday dinners, obligatory meetings where Vivian held court to air more of her grievances.

Her childhood home was big, cold, and shiny. She hadn’t seen Vivian clean in over a decade, but their home was always spotless. Appearance meant everything to her parents and, for as wealthy as they were, Kat was not—another grievance her mother never let her forget.

Mia wanted for nothing, as Vivian made sure her clothing was a suitable reflection of her lineage. Kat, however, had stopped letting her mother dictate her wardrobe the year she started supporting herself. There simply wasn’t room in her budget or life for expensive shoes and pashminas to accent every outfit.

There were plenty of differences between the way Kat was raised and the way she was raising Mia. But at the end of the day, she always knew she was doing right. Their small, cozy house was a home, built of love and laughter. Something Kat had grown up without.

“What do you say I start dinner, kiddo?”

Mia nestled into her side and nibbled her cookie, eyes focused on the television. “Let’s snuggle a little longer, Momma.”

She sighed. “Okay.”

 

 

The next day, a truck was parked in the driveway of the corner house. “My friend’s home!” Mia squealed.

Reeling in her daughter’s exuberance, Kat held tight to her little hand. “Hold on, babe. I don’t think that’s your friend.” The side of the work truck read Adams Construction. “I think that truck belongs to workers, people who are fixing up the house to get it ready for your friends.”

There weren’t any lights or coverings showing in the windows. The house appeared vacant. Perhaps their new neighbors were planning some renovations. It was already an impressive house. Being on the corner, it had the largest lot on the street. The house itself was big too.

It was two stories with a third floor attic accented by peaked dormer windows. Kat wasn’t sure if it had a basement, but it was four times the size of their cottage, and had a two-car, barn style garage. It was nice, but in need of repair.

Like a mouth full of sporadically missing teeth, the fence was the first of many blemishes surrounding the overgrown yard hiding the rickety, stained siding and shutters hanging from broken hinges. Kat supposed the construction truck was a good sign. The new neighbors would most likely be decent homeowners if they were taking the initiative to fix up the home before they moved. It would be lovely if a family with children close to Mia’s age moved into the home.

Mia hopped cracks in the sidewalk as Kat followed, contemplating the difference between managing a house of that size and one the size of her cottage. She couldn’t imagine one person signing on for such an undertaking, which added to her presumption that the new residents would be a family. 

Long ago, she’d come to terms with the fact that she’d probably never get married. It was difficult enough to find someone interested in a single mom, especially when she didn’t date. Carrying around all fifteen pounds of pregnancy weight wasn’t helping matters either.

If she ever did meet someone she was interested in they’d also have to be interested in Mia. More than interested, they’d have to love her, and Mia would have to love them. So many stipulations left the odds piled against her, so she resigned herself to a life of single motherhood long ago. And she somehow learned to find contentment in her situation.

Jeremy was the last person she dated and that was four years ago. She didn’t know if it was even fair to call hanging out at the local pizza parlor and making out in his dad’s tobacco scented Bronco dating, but that was the extent of her knowledge with the opposite sex.

The first time Kat went to second base turned out to be the same day she made it to home plate and conceived Mia. Her life was forever changed in that moment. Twisted clothing, inexperienced hands, and awkward kisses all added up to her one and only sexual experience.

Anxious insecurities and nervous fumbling dulled most of the pleasure, at least from what she could recall. It had been exciting, but the repercussions were permanent. She wouldn’t change a thing, but she would also never be that reckless again. Mia kept her busy enough that Kat didn’t notice the absence of a social life.

Unlocking the front door, Mia bolted inside. Standing in the doorway, sorting through the mail, Kat took one last look back at the house on the corner.

A black man paced on the front lawn, speaking on a cell phone. His boots and jeans were coated in dust. He was probably a laborer doing some interior modifications for the new owners. As he turned, Kat chastised herself for being a nosey body and quickly entered the cottage.

 

 

Tyson slid his phone into his pocket and stared up at the mammoth colonial that would now consume all of his free time. Signing on to such a huge undertaking wasn’t the sanest decision of his life. The blueprints would be ready for pick up in the morning and he could only hope he correctly forecasted the budget. With old homes one never knew what kind of nightmares lay beneath. And wasn’t that the perfect analogy for his life?

Despite his fit physique, his joints ached from too much manual labor as tension throbbed in his lower back. At thirty-six he felt more like a hundred, and never did he imagine he’d be starting over again this late in life. Age was intimidating, that ever ticking clock, always moving, loudly chiming at each benchmark to announce another year gone by. It was daunting to suddenly grasp he was middle-aged and somehow facing a new beginning.

Since he was a boy he dreamed of building things. He’d always loved to design structures. Deciding what he wanted to do with his life was simple. Financing his dreams had been the opposite.

The start of his career had been a blur. He worked. He learned. He hustled and he saved. Then one day he bought his first truck and started contracting out his own jobs.

He’d spent so many years focused on making his way in the world, rarely thinking of anything else, he’d somehow misplaced over a decade of time. It wasn’t until his sister passed away that he realized all of his friends had invested in other avenues like love and family.

Ty’s family was his crew. His baby was his company. His parents were taken care of and his other sister, Gloria, had her own family to take up her time. Forty was just around the corner and he was facing it alone.

In the quiet that came after his baby sister passed away, he’d realized he rarely laughed anymore. In the hours after work he barely spoke unless Gloria or his mother called. While everyone else clocked out and returned home, he simply passed the hours separating him from the next shift—alone. He couldn’t even recall the last time he’d gotten laid.

It was never his intension to let life pass him by. He wanted to come home to children shouting and chasing each other through the house, a wife that greeted him with a smile and a kiss at the door. Ty wasn’t sure where he would find those things, but he figured finding a house big enough to create such a home was a good place to start.

Exhaling, he ran his hand over his head. For nearly twenty years he’d worked his ass off to get to this moment. He should be celebrating, but for some reason he couldn’t shake the sense of emptiness, emptiness he’d hoped the house would relieve. It seemed even significant days passed with ordinary calmness when there was no one there to share in his happiness.

Sophia would have liked the house. His younger sister always found beauty in discarded things. She was notorious for bringing home ugly old strays when she was a kid. And as an adult she frequently dragged him to flea markets where she’d sort through other people’s unwanted crap, turning items this way and that, finding some speck of value and beauty beneath the tarnish and dust.

This house had beauty beneath the dust, which was why he chose it after making a promise to Sophia just before she passed—a promise he wasn’t so sure he could keep.

His brain raced with a million and one items he needed to add to his checklist. Upper New Castle was a quiet, small town set far enough away from all the noise of the city, yet near enough to have all the conveniences of suburban living. The lawns were manicured and the drives were filled with family sized vehicles. Tricycles littered the patios and flowerbeds edged the walks.

The stillness of the place brought him a level of peacefulness he wasn’t accustomed to. He’d always been a solitary guy, goal oriented and determined, never needing much fuss or frills. That was the shit other people paid him to do for them, but when it came to himself, he was pretty ordinary.

Ty liked to work, liked the sense of pride that came with each completed job and satisfied client. He didn’t need much to keep him happy. Food in his belly, beer in the fridge, and sports on the TV, was all it really took to satisfy him. A bit of female attention didn’t hurt now and then either. Treating himself to something as monumental as a house, didn’t quite sit right. He’d likely bitten off more than he could chew and it was going to take a while to digest.

Never being one to entertain long commitments, he’d learned to appreciate swift, gratifying encounters in all areas of life, be it flipping a house in a matter of weeks or finding a female for a few nights. He’d surrounded himself with women who were interested in pleasure with no strings for so long, he wasn’t sure where to find the sort that wanted strings. But if he wanted a family to someday fill this house and make it a home, his days of bachelorhood needed to end.

New Castle would definitely be a switch from the bustling city streets he had grown up on. There were no neon signs, sirens, or subwoofers rattling the windows. Rather, the gentle hum of insects and the soft blue glow from televisions dappled the backdrop of his new neighborhood, as folks settled in to watch the evening news.

When a man in a pair of short-shorts jogged by pushing a toddler in a stroller he had a moment of Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore. Obscure pride mixed with trepidation at the thought of actually living in such a neighborhood. There weren’t a whole lot of people that looked like him in these parts. He was grateful for the opportunity, but also self-conscious, knowing he stuck out like a lone black-eyed pea in a bed of white rice. But he refused to let the unfamiliarity discomfort him.

These people seemed family oriented, their lives functioning on a whole different set of values. He was a long way away from strollers though.

Exhaustion seeped in and he wished he had a couch to rest on before he got back to the never ending demolition inside. With a fortifying breath, he reached into the cab of his work truck and grabbed a six-pack. The sheetrock wasn’t going to remove itself and he had a home to build.