God, there's so much to look at, and yet it's simple and classy and it almost has a cottage feel, which I imagine would be amazing in the winter with the fireplace lit.
Touching the brown suede feel of one of the slouchy chairs, I have to know. "Did you design this yourself?"
"Would you be really impressed if I said I did?"
"Yes."
"Damn," he grins looking around the room himself. "Did I ever mention Dan's wife Karen is an interior decorator?"
"No."
"Then I designed it myself," he smirks as I laugh.
Pulling me forward by the hand, we walk through white French doors into a dining room with the same colors and feel. It has a huge wooden table with beige placemats and a lovely chandelier overhead. The walls are still white and the geometrically placed photos continue in this room like the pattern from the library/den.
Walking through another set of French doors we enter the biggest, most beautiful kitchen I've ever seen in my life. Like the pages of a magazine it's breathtaking. The entire back of the house is the kitchen with the entrance hallway leading right to it from the middle, and the whole back wall is glass looking out onto a deck with long beige drapes to give privacy. Pausing to take it all in, it’s so beautiful it's almost overwhelming.
"This is amazing," I whisper looking at the white wooden cabinets, and all the little touches of color everywhere.
Even the island with hanging pots and pans overhead is white and brown. And the tall breakfast bar of marble around the side of the kitchen actually sits 5 comfortably.
Glancing to the right of the next set of French doors, there’s a long rectangular table with an actual bench seat against the wall, and 5 chairs on the opposite side with 2 chairs at each end.
Shaking my head, I whisper, "I can't believe you did this."
"I'll show you the before and after pictures. Then you'll know why it's taken me 6 years and lots of help from Dan and his crew. We had to gut the entire place. It was actually a tiny almost galley kitchen in this back corner with another closed room right here," he motions to the space holding the long table. "Anyway, we turned it from 2 rooms into this one. And it looks pretty good," he says quietly like he doesn't want to brag even though he absolutely should.
"It doesn't look pretty good, Malcolm- it's the most beautiful kitchen I've ever seen in my life. I never thought I'd like so much white before, but it looks so natural and lovely and just amazing. Against the dark wood floors and throw rugs, this kitchen is a dream for most people. Do you always have parties with so much space?" I ask looking around at everything until I see almost nothing specifically.
"Not often, but I do like to have the Thanksgiving party with my friends and family here. It’s quite loud and eventful with so many people and liquor and crazy shouting to be heard."
"And you love it."
"Once a year," he grins. "Last room?" He turns toward another opened set of French doors beside the long table into a huge living room.
Realizing it’s the space of the whole den and half the dining room, I understand where they took the room from for the huge kitchen.
It's much longer than it is wide, but it's positioned in such a way that the television is against the wall going up the stairs. The couch rests against the opposite wall, and 2 big club chairs rest on each end pointing towards the TV as well. There's a pool table exiting the kitchen and even an armoire under the gigantic TV which I'm sure houses all the man stuff so nothing looks cluttered or takes away from the simplicity and comfort of the room.
"Malcolm... this is unbelievable. You must be so proud of yourself for this? I mean, I know it's your job but you've done something so special with this house, I just can't believe it. I'm at a loss for words," I fade out looking out the big picture window at the front of his house to the street beyond. "If I ever had a dream house in mind, this would be it."
"You didn’t ever have a dream house?"
"No. I only ever imagined getting to where I need to be. But this is always going to be the model I dream of now for my future house. Maybe one day you can build me one?" I grin still a little shocked by what I'm seeing.
"I can do that," he nods smiling. "Now, just so you don't think everything is perfect, the upstairs has 3 bedrooms and only mine and the 2 bathrooms are finished. The basement? Damp, dirty and gross. But that'll be the last project once the upstairs is finished. Can I show you upstairs?"
"Yes, please," I say already exiting the French doors beside the stairs and front hallway.
Walking up the stairs, I think of my ass and hope to hell he's not looking at it. But when I turn to him, he's smirking like he's looking right at my ass which actually makes me laugh at him. "Perv..."
When the stairs end, the banister wraps back along the hallway halfway to end at a door. In front of the stairs are 2 closed doors, and one door in the middle of the hallway itself.
"The 2 unfinished bedrooms," he grimaces which naturally makes me want to look.
"Holy. Shit..." I mutter opening the first door. "Wow, that's a lot of wallpaper," I laugh looking at the pink wall on one side and the 3 other walls of vivid blue kind of wrap around multi-colored flowery what the hell wallpaper? "Um, the floors are nice," I add trying to stop giggling.
"Did I mention I bought the house at an estate's sale when the little old lady who previously lived here was put in a nursing home?"
"Ah, no. But that explains this 60's looking nightmare. Is she still alive?" Looking at me like my question was weird, I explain. "I just thought it would be cool if she could see what you've done to her house. Then again, she might go into culture shock at all the plain white downstairs," I muse.
"I'm not sure, but I doubt it. My neighbor told me when they moved her out she was 92 and that was 6 years ago." Nodding, I get it.
"What's the other room like?"
"The same but pink with green flowers," he laughs. "Plus it's filled with tons of crap right now. So if someone stays here, this is their only option. And I've got to tell you a drunk buddy crashing here once in a while is pretty funny. There's the extra TV I offered you," he points to a hideous blue dresser with a TV on top.
"No, but thank you."
"Okay, the bathroom is finished," he says pulling the door closed behind us to walk down the hall.
"Wow." Looking at the bathroom it's actually pretty big with double sinks and a huge claw-foot tub beside an enclosed glass shower. "Is this your bathroom?" If it is, he's a total neat freak I didn't realize before.
"No, I have my own in my room. Come see," he's grinning excited again by my reaction I think. "I took the 2 original bedrooms at the end of this hall and made them one master bedroom. This hallway actually extended further for 2 doors, but I closed it off to make one large room."
Opening the door for me, I'm just astounded. His room is big with white and brown and beiges like in the library/den. It's totally masculine, but it feels so soothing and comforting I don't think of it as strictly a man's bedroom. Even the dark hardwood floors have a huge area rug in swirling designs of all the neutral colors that softens up the masculinity.
"Is that another wood fireplace?"
"Yes, it was already here, but I fixed up the mantle to make it-"
"Beautiful," I exhale. "Malcolm, I'm speechless. I'm just like stunned I think. I can't believe you did this."
Looking at his huge king size bed, it's facing the door in between the 2 large windows I assume were each in the original 2 bedrooms. It faces the door and there's at least 20 feet between the end of it and the door to enter. On the side, there's a long sliding door closet with a tall bureau beside it, and on the door wall there's another door, and also a huge flat screen TV mounted on the wall.
"That's my bathroom," he motions to the door beside the TV.
Finding myself finally moving, I plop down into the huge slouchy chair the same as the ones in the den and I'm so impressed I’m almost weirded-out or something.
The chair is beside the fi
replace, and I can't even imagine what his room looks like in the winter with a fire lit. It would be so beautiful and relaxing, and just amazing I think.
"What are you thinking," he smiles leaning against the wall.
"I don't know. This is the most beautiful house I've ever seen, besides that bedroom monstrosity I walked into," I laugh quickly. "And for some reason it seems overwhelming, or intimidating, or something."
"Why?"
"I don't know. We're just so different. You're an adult living an adult life, and I'm just starting out, starting another 4 years in school. I feel like a little kid beside you, and I've never felt like a kid even when I was one." I also feel sad for some reason I can’t understand.
"Saige, this took me years to do. Day after day I worked at it and it sure as hell didn't start out like this. If I didn't have friends who were in contracting there's no way I could've done this on my own, or even afforded to do it. Plus, I've been working since I graduated college 8 years ago."
"I know, but I feel embarrassed that I'm so much younger than you, I think." Is that it?
Shaking my head, I think it’s more that this isn't somewhere I ever thought I'd be. I never pictured anything so adult and welcoming and just so beautiful in my future with Tyler. My expectations were actually fairly low with Tyler I suddenly realize.
"What is it?" He asks walking slowly toward me before sitting on the other comfy fireplace chair.
"I don't know. I just feel sad," I exhale desperately trying not to cry.
Leaning forward, Malcolm looks so beautiful to me in this moment, in his room, surrounded by his scent and his life all around us.
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"Come here," he extends his hand.
Looking between us, the silence is so thick and my emotions are so high I move without thinking right into his arms. Pushing back into the chair, Malcolm positions me against his chest and I don't even try to fight it anymore. My sadness is real and the feelings are insane so I let go against him and cry.
Not loudly, or hysterically- more like a sad exhale I cry against his chest. And Malcolm doesn't speak, or console, or try anything at all.
He sits with one arm wrapped over my shoulder and his other hand on the arm of the chair. He sits silently still as I cry against him everything I'm not, everything I've lost, and everything I'll never have again.
"Are ye alright, wee Saige?" He asks in his delicious accent after I've finally stopped crying minutes later.
"I'm hungry," I say instead of answering. Feeling his laugh against my cheek, I pull away to apologize. "I'm very sorry for this. I'm not sure what happened but I swear I love your home," I grin.
"Well, that's good to know. I've never had a woman cry because of my home, or even in my home before. At least not that I'm aware of," he grins. "Come on, let’s get dinner on."
Rising from his lap, I see my tear wetness on his shirt and I'm embarrassed again until he looks down at it and shrugs. "It doesn't bother me," he says placing his hand on the wet mark on his chest.
Chapter 23
On the back deck off his kitchen, I realize this is the first perfect night I've had in forever. It's still light out though it’s nearly 8, and everything is just so calm and soothing in his beautifully landscaped yard.
Actually, I wish there was a pool, but otherwise, I could happily spend the rest of my life out here with Malcolm.
"Bloody enough for you?" He grins at my plate as I eat.
"Perfect. And you didn't ruin a perfectly delicious steak with anything other than a baked potato. Thank you, this is amazing."
"You're welcome. But can you actually eat that whole steak?"
"Watch me," I wink spearing another piece of steak with my fork.
Muttering bloodthirsty as I chew, Malcolm asks, "So how was your day?"
"Awful, then great, then awful again, and now great again," I laugh like a moron.
"Awful how?" He asks digging into his second baked potato.
Trying to control my anger, I let him know about last night and this morning. "Somehow Tyler found out my new cell number and he kept calling and texting he wants to see me all night. Though I ignored him, and only answered one text in a way that could not be misinterpreted, he kept sending texts anyway."
Looking at me with a spoonful of sour cream in the air, he asks the obvious question I wish I could answer. "How did he get your number?"
"No idea," I shrug. "I mean I gave it out to a few people at work if they wanted me to take their shifts, but I didn't think it was to anyone who would either know Tyler or be stupid enough to give it to him. Mike and Selena have had it since I changed numbers and Tyler didn't get it from them. So I assume it was someone from work."
"Did you block his number?"
"This morning, when the fiftieth text came through since last night."
"Good. But if he keeps bothering you, you'll let me know," he says in a tone that doesn't allow for argument until I agree.
"Okay, so how was your day good?"
"I received my letter with the conditional acceptance lifted from Harvard," I smile.
"Harvard?" He nearly jumps. "You're going to Harvard in the fall?"
Looking at Malcolm, I'm a little surprised by his reaction. "Yes. Didn't you know that? I thought I told you."
"No, you didn’t mention Harvard. I knew you were starting school again, but I didn't know it was at Harvard. So, wow… Harvard," he says looking either impressed or I don't know what. When he suddenly looks out at his quiet backyard, I don't understand what the problem is.
"What's wrong? I kind of thought this was cause for celebration. Or at least it is for me."
Turning back to me, Malcolm smiles but shakes his head at the same time. "It’s amazing, Saige. And you must be so proud. Actually, I'm proud for you, I just didn't realize you’d be moving away to Cambridge."
"But you knew I was only living here temporarily."
"Actually, I thought you were only living in that apartment temporarily. I didn't know it was because you were moving away."
Reaching to squeeze his hand quickly, he seems like he'll miss me or something which is kind of sweet. "I'll still visit when I can. I'll need to see you guys sometimes, and I'll really need my Griffin fix."
Watching Malcolm he smiles again and squeezes my hand back but doesn't speak for a few minutes. Swatting a random fly away, we both eat somewhat comfortably under his soft white deck lights, until I finally concede I can't finish my steak.
"I can't do it, dammit. I ruined myself with the potato." Sipping my glass of water, I wait for Malcolm to say something other than his grinning I knew it, but he doesn't acknowledge me other than little looks and smiles as he continues eating.
"What's wrong?" I finally lean back in my deck chair, grateful I'm wearing a loose sundress so I don't have anything tight on my stomach.
"Nothing at all. So, that was your good thing, what was your next awful?"
"Um, Selena and I had a fight and some tension after I read my letter."
"Why? She doesn't want you to leave either?" Either? I almost jolt when I hear Malcolm say the word either.
"Um, no. She's freaked about the loans and debt. And basically she doesn't understand that this is normal and something I'll deal with afterward."
"It's pretty bad, huh? I had a friend that went to Yale for a year, and he's still paying it off."
"Yale for a year? Why would he leave? That's insane."
"He couldn't handle the course load. So he dropped out and went to a community college here. He's actually quite successful now."
"Yeah, but he could've been much more successful if he had stuck it out at Yale."
"He did alright for himself, Saige. And not everyone is cut out for the Ivy League," he says like I'm a snob or something, which I'm not at all.
"I didn't mean that badly, Malcolm. It's just if you have the grades to get into Harvard or Yale, which most people would kill for, it's kind of sad to
let that opportunity go to waste."
Looking at me Malcolm breathes, "Yeah, but not everyone needs to be the best, or needs to have the best of everything. Some people are happier just living their lives, and that doesn't make them any less valuable than the Ivy Leaguer who strives for the best of everything."
"That isn't what I'm doing, Malcolm."
"Isn't it?" He asks stunning me.
"No, it isn't. And I'm surprised you’d think that of me. Do I seem like I'm shallow or need to have the best of everything?"
"No, I didn't mean-"
"What? Because I want to excel at Harvard means I'm a snob?"
Huffing, he says, "No." But there's something I'm not understanding.
"So why would you say that to me? I've never acted better than anyone else, and I don't have to be better than anyone else. I just want to be the best so I can help people. That's why I'm doing this," I yell a little.
Reining in my infamous red-headed temper, I calm before speaking. "You don't know me, and clearly you don't understand me at all. Christ, after today I realize no one understands what I'm doing this for. But it's none of your business any more than its Selena's. So if you think I'm such a shallow snob or whatever, maybe I should just leave."
"Don't leave," he says quietly. "Just explain it. Why are you fighting so hard for something you don't even look like you give a shit about?" He questions almost angrily which surprises me again.
"Excuse me? I do give a shit!"
"Bullshit. You read because you're bored, and you study because you have to fill your days and nights. Don't tell me it's because you actually want to. Tell me why you do it!"
Shocked he's yelling at me, I snap. Actually standing over him, I've had enough of people today. "Well, I don't do it so I'll be rich one day driving a Lexus, living in a fancy house in Montgomery Park. Because I'll tell you working as a Public Defender for most major cities pays about half what I could make in a private practice. So screw you and your judgements. I didn't ask you or anyone else for help, so between Selena lecturing me about all the debt I'll incur which is none of her business, and you thinking you know me so well and don't, you both can piss off as far as I'm concerned."