After slamming the door, I lean my back on it, sliding down to the floor with the pile of garbage at my feet. I no longer have the strength to stand and cry, and these tears have nowhere else to go but into my lap.
Chapter Nine
IT’S AMAZING, THE POWER BEHIND righteous anger and grief. I guess some people collapse under the weight of it, but me? It gives me wings and fuel to push forward like I’ve never been able to before. I no longer fear flying mice and rotting rat corpses. I fear nothing. Bring on the zombies, bitches.
By midnight, I have all the garbage that formerly littered the floors of my new house bagged up and out on the front lawn. Tell me I can’t fix up this house? Screw you, Robinson. Screw you, World. I can do this, because I say I can do this. I might not have any control over my adopted child, but I do have control over this damn house.
I was going to quit for the day when the garbage cleanup was done, but when I realize I still have energy to burn, I decide to tackle the drywall instead. My angry high still hasn’t left me, and neither has Robinson’s sledgehammer, still buried in the front step. I yank it free, only falling once, and bring it into the house.
With a dust mask on, I start pounding holes in things. My original plan to patch the hole in the wall is out the window, and my new plan to open the space up is on the front burner. Plaster and dust go everywhere as the wood beams, electrical wring, and pipes are slowly revealed. After pounding away for a half hour, I stop and rest on the hammer like it’s a cane, admiring my work. I can see the kitchen from the family room now. It’s way better this way.
Letting the hammer fall to the floor, I dust my hands off. But when I bend over and try to knock the white powder from my legs, I create a cloud of it around my bottom half. Wow. That’s super messy.
Giving up on the clean-up and realizing I’ve finally run out of anger and energy, I grab my purse and keys and head out the door, locking up behind me. A glance at my phone tells me it’s almost one in the morning. Time to rest up for my big day tomorrow. I’m going to knock some holes in some more walls, I think. It’s great for getting my mind off him.
When I’m safely ensconced in my car, I look at my phone. There are three missed calls from James. I could guess what they say, but instead, I mount my phone on the dash, press the voicemail button, and drive out into the street, headed for my apartment.
The first message was sent probably not long after Robinson left. It plays out over my stereo speakers.
“Jana, this is James. I just got off the phone with Robinson. Would you call me, please?”
I shake my head. Frigging tattletale. Of course he went running to James. What else would he have done? Admitted he made a big, fat, fucking mistake? No, of course not.
The second message plays.
“Jana, James again. Listen, I get that you’re upset, but we need to talk about this. I don’t think you have the right ideas going on in your head, and I don’t want to see you getting so worked up about this stuff. It’s not going to help, you know.”
Et tu, James? Et tu? I’m tempted to grab my phone and throw it out the window again, but the cost of my tantrums is going to cut into my construction budget, so I resist that urge and listen to the last message instead. A female voice comes over the speakers this time.
“Jana, it’s Leah. I’m using James’s phone. I’m calling to tell you I heard about what happened with Rob today, and I completely and totally get you. I get it, okay? I would feel exactly the same way. You’re not crazy and you’re not out of line. Can we talk? Call me. But on my phone, not James’s phone. I’ll be up late. I have heartburn.”
I blink a few times, not trusting that the late hour and all my hard work hasn’t thrown my hearing off. Did she say she would feel the same way? But Sarah, my brother’s new wife and Cassie’s new mom, is her best friend. Why would she side with me against her? I play the message again and confirm that she did, in fact, say that.
The relief that flows through me is palpable. It’s like someone threw a light on inside the very dark room I’ve been standing alone in for weeks and hugged me. I have to call her now. I realize as my heart feels lighter that I need the support more than anything in the world.
I search through my contacts at the next red light and press the button that will connect me with Leah’s phone. She answers right away in a whisper.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Leah, it’s Jana.” I’m whispering too.
“What? I can’t hear you.”
I shake my head at my idiocy and talk in a normal tone of voice. “It’s Jana. Calling you back.”
“Give me a second,” she whispers, “I need to go into the other room.”
I hear shuffling and muffled noises before she comes back on the line, no longer whispering. “Okay, that’s better.”
“Is James asleep?”
“Yep. Sawing logs, one right after the other. I thought his snoring was bad before, but now that I have heartburn, it’s worse. There’s no hope of me sleeping until at least four when he finally closes his lumber mill down for the night.”
“That sucks.” I never pictured my brother being that guy who keeps his wife up with his snoring. It’s oddly comforting to know he’s normal sometimes and not always a superhero.
“Anyway, enough about my petty problems. They’re nothing compared to what you’re going through. How are you holding up?”
I planned to be strong and confident in this call, showing Leah that I’ve been wronged in an intellectual and rational way, but that all goes to hell in a hand basket when the tears start flowing again. At this point I’m going to be totally dehydrated before I can get to the water faucet in my kitchen.
“Not good,” I finally say. It’s all I’m capable of at this point. I still have to get across the Brooklyn Bridge and I can’t pull over to cry there.
“I can imagine. Rob came over after he saw you. He said you gave him an earful.”
“You could say that.”
“He didn’t share specifics. At least not while I was in the room. He basically said that you blame him for taking your child from you. That he wrecked a very happy home.”
My smile is bitter. “That’s about the gist of it.”
“Does he know how much you like him?”
My ears start to ring at her question. “Like him?”
“Yeah. You know. Does he know you have a massive crush on him? Because if he didn’t — and I wouldn’t be one bit surprised if he didn’t since most men are totally clueless and he’s no exception — it would explain why he doesn’t quite get the gravity of the situation.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, somewhat flustered, “but I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”
Leah giggles. “Oh, come on, Jana, don’t play. You know you love him. I’ve seen the way you look at him. And in most of the pictures with you guys in them, you’re looking up at him with goo-goo eyes. You’re totally crushing on him. Anyone can see it.”
“Anyone?” I say, hating how meek I sound.
“Well, not the guys, of course.” She snorts. “Totally clueless, every one of ‘em.”
“I know, right?” I’m relieved to hear her say that. At least that part of her conversation makes sense and doesn’t tempt me to hang up the phone. “I told him that today, that he’s clueless.”
“What did he say to that?” she asks, obviously delighted.
“He told me I time warped him back to 1998.”
“Deflection. Classic avoidance technique.”
I’m impressed with how clearly she’s read the situation without having been there. “That’s what I thought too.”
“So, what’s your next step?” she asks.
“Next step? What do you mean? With the house?”
“No, silly, with Rob.”
“There is no next step with Rob. It’s over. And I don’t even know what It was. It was nothing, according to him, so it is nothing. Game over. Thanks for playing.” I hate that I sound so bitter
, but it’s real. I am bitter. Bitter, unhappy, sad. Name your negative emotion, that’s what I am.
“I don’t believe you’ll end it that easy.”
I turn onto the Brooklyn Bridge, merging in next to a giant double-decker tour bus. “End what, Leah? We weren’t a couple. We never went out on a single date.”
“Those are just technicalities. You know he was crushing on you too, right?”
That little statement makes my heart stop beating for way too long. I gasp as it starts up again and sends a shock of pain through me. “Where’d you get that crazy idea?” I ask, my voice sounding strange to my own ears.
“Duh. Common sense. I know what a guy looks like when he’s trying to picture a girl naked all the time.”
My ears go red. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Him, picture me naked? No way. I hate the surge of heat that moves through me. Traitor body of mine.
“What’s so ridiculous about that? You’re gorgeous, he’s hot, he’s straight, which is some kind of miracle considering how good-looking he is, and you’ve been right there under his nose for, what, like twenty years?”
“Yeah, under his nose like a sister, not a woman he wants to see naked.”
Leah laughs. “Like a sister? No. Huh-uh. No man looks at a sister like Rob looks at you. That’s illegal in all fifty states.”
I can’t help but laugh. Leah does have a way with words.
“Listen,” she says, “I think I hear James waking up, so I’m going to go now. But let’s have lunch tomorrow. Are you free?”
“I’m working on my house all day.”
“I’ll bring lunch to you, then. We’ll have a picnic.”
I cringe when I think of her in my place with her big pregnant belly. “That might not be a good idea. It’s really dirty right now.”
“I’m washable,” she says cheerfully. Then she whispers. “Text me the address and I’ll see you around 12:30.”
I sigh, knowing how persistent she can be when she puts her mind to it. “Fine. See you tomorrow.”
“Okay. Bye!”
I take a moment to put the address in a text to Leah at the first stoplight I come too off the bridge. I need to hurry up and get home, so I take off at the next green light and hot-foot it to the apartment. I’m going to need a good night’s sleep to have this conversation I know she’s planning for tomorrow.
Chapter Ten
THE WEATHER IS TOTAL CRAP, which makes it much easier from a mental perspective to walk into my crap new house. At least I’m escaping the freezing rain and hail. Thankfully, bad weather for construction projects also means several contractors are available to come over and give me bids for the work I need done.
The first guy to show up is the electrician. I give him a tour of the place and stop in the kitchen, giving him my best smile. “So, what do you think? Is this doable?”
He shrugs. “Sure, anything is doable.” His round belly doesn’t seem to get in his way, even though I’m not sure how he’s going to write on the clipboard he’s put on the counter. I hope his arms are really long.
He bends over, dipping his belly down so he can write on his three-part form. “I’ll work up an estimate for you later today and send it over by email, but at the very least, this is what I recommend you do.” He rips off the top copy and gives it to me.
I read through it, making sure I understand. “New wiring, new panel, outdoor…” I look up at him. “There aren’t any prices on here. Should that worry me?”
He smiles. “I need to go back to my office and use the computer. Price depends on how many outlets you want, how many rooms, that kind of thing.” He taps his head. “The bean’s good, but not as good as the computer.”
The bean being his brain, I guess. “Okay, well, I look forward to receiving your bid.” Shaking his hand, I nod. “I appreciate you coming out so quickly.” I only called him two hours ago.
“No problem. Terrible weather makes it easier.”
A knock comes at the door and we both walk around the hole I knocked in the wall to see who it is. Another guy dressed in dirty clothes is waiting there for me.
“You must be the plumber,” I say, moving forward to shake his hand.
“No, I’m the roofer.” He takes my hand and shakes it without a smile. The skin of his palm is like leather.
“Great.” I turn my attention to the electrician. “I’ll wait to hear from you, then?”
“Yes, indeedy.” He nods at the roofer and sees himself out, as I turn my attention to the man with the leather hands.
“So, do you need to actually go up on the roof?”
“Already did.” He hands me a piece of paper.
I look down at it and see the price of $30,500 jumping out at me.
“Whoa. That seems a little steep.”
He shrugs. “Based on the shape that roof is in, I figured you were going to need the works.”
“That bad?” I cringe, waiting for him to reassure me it’s probably not.
“Didn’t you get an inspection? Can’t be that big a surprise.”
My heart sinks. “Yes.” I remember seeing the inspection report. I didn’t pay it too much attention since there was nothing on there that seemed dire enough to warrant not buying the house. His expression makes me think I should have read it more carefully.
“Just let me know if you want us on the job. We could start next week.” He begins walking toward the door.
I feel desperate, like I can’t just let him walk away without discussing this more first. Thirty thousand dollars? Shouldn’t he spend more than thirty seconds explaining his work to me for that much money?
“I’ll email you!” I shout as he walks out the door.
“Better call. I’m not much for computers.”
The door shuts behind him and I stare at its peeling paint and scratched surface. Not much for computers? What does that even mean? How do you charge thirty grand for a job and not use computers? I think I’m living in the Twilight Zone now.
While I wait for the plumber, I busy myself with sweeping up piles of fine, white powder, there courtesy of my hole-making mania of last night. When the doorbell finally rings, an hour after the appointed time, it sounds very sad because the second part of the bell-tone is out of tune. I need to put that on my list of things to replace. The actual list is on the kitchen counter, and it’s been getting longer by the minute. Every time I turn around it seems another problem rears its ugly head.
I open the door and smile with my greeting. “Hello.”
Well, hell. Finally. A ray of sunshine in my crap day. The plumber is hot. Whoa, like seriously, seriously steamy hot. Should I award jobs based on how cute the owner of the business is? It seems sexist, but I do have to be here all day, so…
“Hi,” he says, extending his hand. “I’m Jake.”
Of course you are. I shake his hand, my smile growing wider. “Hello, Jake. I’m Jana. Nice to meet you. I assume you’re the plumber?”
“That’s me.” He steps inside after wiping his feet off on the old mat in front. Points for effort, even though it’s probably cleaner out on my porch than it is inside at this point.
I’m nervous in the presence of such rough good looks. Is he really a plumber? I might not complain about seeing plumber crack if he’s on the job. As my face heats up, I quickly force myself to shift into business mode. I cannot drool over a contractor; he’ll charge me double and I’ll end up paying it and hating myself for it later when he’s long gone.
“So, do you already have an estimate after only walking up to the front of the house like the roofer did, or do you need to actually go through the house?”
He laughs. “Gave you a big price tag, did he?”
I breathe out a sigh of frustration. “I don’t know. Is thirty grand big?”
He shrugs. “Depends on the job.” His gaze moves to my living room ceiling hole. “Depends on the shape your trusses are in.”
I follow his gaze and see another mouse peeping over the edge.
“Do mice eat trusses?”
He laughs again. “I don’t think so. But you never know until you go up there.”
I look at him to see if he’s serious, but I can’t tell by his expression. It’s those green eyes throwing me off. “You must be kidding.” The attic? Where the mice have moved in and started throwing parties that get so wild they throw their friends out of holes in the ceilings? No thank you.
“Nope, not kidding. I’ll be going up there today for my estimate if you still want one. I could take a look at the trusses for you while I’m up there.”
“You could?” I grab his arm I’m so excited about the fact that I don’t have to go up there personally.
He smiles. “No problem.”
I let him go, worried he’ll get annoyed by the fact that I’m probably acting like every other woman who’s been caught in his thrall. I’m not that girl. Hot guys don’t make me stupid, I swear. My brothers are handsome. Robinson used to be gorgeous by my standards before all I could see was his black heart. I know how to act in the presence of beauty without losing my good sense.
I back away and smile. “I guess I’ll leave you to your inspection. Unless you need my help with anything?”
The doorbell rings, singing its sad, tuneless song. I look over my shoulder and then back at him as I wait for his answer.
“No, go ahead. I’ll be done in about fifteen minutes or so.”
I nod and leave him for the front door where I find Leah standing there with bags in her hands, staring at the porch ceiling.
“You know you have old wasp nests up there, right?”
I look up at the husks of something in both corners connected to the house and shrug. “Par for the course.” I move out of the way so she and her belly can enter. “What’d you bring?”
“Sushi for you. Fried rice for me.”
“Yum.”
She holds her arms out for a hug and pouts. “Give me a hug. I think I need one as much as you do.”
I go into her arms willingly, because she’s right; I do need a hug. Seeing her reminds me of the fact that I’m about to dredge up the memory of my conversation with Robinson from yesterday, and I’m about as interested in that as I am with having another mouse fall on my head.