The homeowner (Conclusion)

Here comes the end of “The homeowner“. Quite predictable I would say but then what would you expect? How many times in life things derail into an unexpected path? Anyways, I hope you will enjoy. My next short story (I am working on it) will be entitled: “Tiger” – Any good photos to send  for that story? Should we have a context for the best one?

“Cats and Dogs” as Nonna referred to young Jamie and Paula – Pizzo, Summer 1989

***

As he approached home with the backpack snug on the shoulders to keep him warm, John saw a black Mercedes pull out of the Gate of the property and pass by soon after driven by a suspicious character that looked more like a businessman than a person. (Do not kill the messenger, my dear businessmen! As an author, I reserve deep esteem for all of you and have no intention to offend, while here I am compelled to report strictly on what was taking place in John’s mind).

The uneasiness created by that vision persisted all the way to the end of the driveway, where a jolly agent greeted him:

“Guess what! We DID IT!!!!”

“Did what?”

“We have a buyer! That guy, who just left on the black Mercedes as you were coming in!”

“You mean that guy wants to buy the house? Why?”

“Because it is for sale!” mumbled the agent, who was getting nervous

“But he must be in his fifties!”

“So what? Do we have an age limit?”

“No” admitted John shaking his head “but I would have guessed somebody with young kids would want this huge property”

After putting down the backpack and sitting at the kitchen table, John offered a drink to the agent and one to himself. He definitely needed one.

“Does he know that I am selling “as is”? Did you make it clear to that guy?”

“Yes he knows!”

“And absolutely no contingencies”

“No contingencies, in fact he will pay cash as soon as you sign the contract”

“And you walked him through the house?”

“Yes”

“And the pool house?”

“Yes”

“And the property all together?”

“Yes”

“Did you point out all the faults? All that needs to be fixed? Just want to be authentic you know”

“Yes”

“And he still wants it “as is” without even bargaining the price?”

“No bargaining, I told him that you are inflexible”

John rose abruptly without noticing and standing in front of the agent asked:

“But what a fool would buy this property “as is” for this price? Why would he do that?”

“He is a developer. He is planning to rip everything down, divide the property into lots and build new homes. He said that it is a good deal for him”

Relieved for having finally identified the glitch he was looking for, John told the incredulous agent:

“No way!”

“…No way I am going to sell the house to somebody who is going to tear it down. I knew it, I could tell right away that he was a businessman!”

 

***

There were some well-organized sheets of paper lying on the table and John saw that it was a preliminary agreement. He had an impulse to grab the paper and crunch it into a ball as kindling for the fireplace to accentuate the irrevocability of his pronouncement. Instead, he sat at the head of the table, looked around as if the whole family was still there listening to the pater familias and decreed:

“OK! I will sign the agreement”

What made him change his mind?

…A remembrance surfaced from long long time ago.

He saw himself as a young boy at the side of Grandpa’s bed.

Grandpa was telling him that the doctor, who just left, had pronounced a hopeless verdict on account of his bad lungs and that he would likely die sooner than he had originally planned. Grandpa also added that from haven he would keep a close eye on John since up there he would most likely continue the same slow-pace existence he had been conducting since retirement. He would, therefore, have plenty of time to check regularly on John and make sure that he would grow into a fine young man; that refined guy, who dresses properly with a tie like city people do, who would salute passer byes politely and would hold the door open for the young ladies. In other words that he would follow all of those fine etiquette instructions that the rustic Grandpa had thoughtfully delivered day after day along those walks to and from elementary school.

To console the sobbing boy, Grandpa smiled and stroking with his peasant’s hands the boy’s curly head said:

“Do not cry Johnny, I was lucky all along, I had all that a man can wish for, but “Quand l’e” basta, l’e’ basta” (which in Milanese dialect means, “When it’s over, it’s over”)

John had forgotten that admonition for decades but suddenly those precise words echoed and with soothing acceptance he said:

“Quand l’e’ basta, l’e’ basta”

And, while the agent was trying to figure out what was going on in his lunatic client’s mind, he signed the papers.

In the end he figured, it was so much better this way. All erased from the face of heart, …a new development. This way, all those memories, all those precious moments would go with the house. Nobody could violate their sanctity; nobody could contaminate them with the stench of their ordinary life.

***

After the agent left, John rubbed his hands and whispered a playful tune to instigate happiness. Then, he removed a bottle of Prosecco from the cooler and opened it to cheer up. He poured a glassful and raised it in front of the invisible family audience. He swallowed it with one gulp:

“Salute!”

He then looked around at the familiar walls that did not belong to him anymore and to shake off all that was in his mind, he mechanically started the Sunday evening chores. Those consisted of carrying the garbage and recycle bins down the long driveway to the street for the following morning pick up and, as the season demanded, starting a fire in the huge walk-in fire place.

After two rounds back and forth from the house to the end of the driveway, John re-entered and stared at the fire and at the couch where long time ago, teenager Jamie, on a similarly cool Sunday evening was watching a football game. John, judging that his son was old enough to contribute to family affairs, tactfully introduced the idea that it would not hurt him to carry the garbage and recycle bins out:

“Kids should help their parents,” he mumbled as he left the premise without receiving any satisfaction.

But, although his behavior would not have suggested it, Jamie had absorbed Dad’s comment. Therefore, when John returned in the house massaging his triceps with the hands to shake away the cold, Jamie considerately said:

“Dad, I thought about what you said and I think you are totally right. Children should definitely help their parents! …When I will grow up, I will make sure that my kids will bring the garbage out!” and after a few seconds, he pensively added:

“And the recycle too” Yes, Jamie always took his dad’s directions at heart!

***

After an uneventful dinner in front of the fireplace, John settled to go to bed. His conscious and subconscious concurred that there was absolutely nothing else to do. Therefore, taking the bottle with the leftover Prosecco in the right hand and the glass in the left, John climbed the stairs to the bedroom. He chose the stairs that went through the children’s wing and as he climbed he heard Rachel’s spirited footsteps up and down as she responded to her big brother’s calls.

“Rachel…Rachel…Come up”

“Coming Jamie!”

There she was in Jamie’s kingdom!

“Hey Rachie” Jamie would say “can you go down and, since you are going to be down there anyways, can you grab a Coke and bring it up?”

“Sure!” And down she went Rachel eager to please the big brother!

“Thanks, Rachie but I changed my mind, I prefer a diet Coke. Can you go down again and, since you are going to be there anyways, you might as well get it for me?”

“Sure!” And down she went Rachel eager to please the big brother again!

And down she went again and again, back and forth, over and over never considering the not so remote possibility that her big brother was pulling her two little though athletic legs. Now, that was devotion! And probably she would still go these days up and down the staircase because she still loves unconditionally her big brother.

…Yea, like that time when teenager Jamie had his friends home to play poker and the then seven-year-old Rachel came to her parents’ room:

“Mom, can I borrow some money?”

“Why honey?”

“Need to play poker“

“Play Poker?”

“Jamie said I could with his friends!”

“How much?”

“I do not know”

“OK, I will give you 10 dollars and that’s it! When you are done losing them, you must quit!”

John and Elizabeth thought that it was a good teaching opportunity for thoughtful Rachel. She would understand the futility of gambling; except…

…The morning after:

“So what happened last night Rachel?”

“I won mom, I won!!!! Sixty dollars!” And so the life lesson when right into the trash! Next Rachie, you should read Dostoyevsky’s “Gambler”. Maybe you could teach something to him! In reality, she never again played poker with Jamie’s friends: they simply would not let her! They were just too frightened of her.

…Then, John could hear Rachel running up the stairs shouting:

“Do dit to me!!!” (Meaning: “Do it to me”) because she had heard Paula’s screaming laughs as John and Jamie were teaming up against her to play “unnecessary roughness” tickling and roughing her up in her room!

…And in those same stairs, years before, little boy Jamie had reassured her panic-stricken mom:

“Do not worry mom, you will be there!”

Elizabeth took great pride in always “being there”, in spite of her high profile full time job, for any school event that involved the children. But in that particular morning, she had been caught unprepared by Jamie, who casually mentioned the soon to come event while having his cheerios with low-fat milk. She realized that she had missed the call and she started fussing with phones and whatever was available at those times to communicate with the office and rearrange, given the “emergency”, her tight schedule to “be there” for her son. But all that fuss appeared much unnecessary to Jamie, who reassured his mom that, based on her previous track record he was positively confident that she “would be there”:

“Do not worry mom, you will be there!” Thanks Jamie! That really helped!

***

After reaching the sleeping quarters, John went into the walk-in closet to fetch his treasured flannel pajamas. That was the same closet where Rachel told mom Elizabeth, who was getting dressed for a business event:

“Mom, you look gorgeous”

“Thank you honey! You are so sweet!” Replied the delighted mom

…“Mom?”

“Yes, honey?”

“What does gorgeous mean?” do not worry Rachel; mom knows what you mean even if you don’t!

***

John was getting weary of these uncontrollable memories as the alcohol was taking hold of any relics of sagaciousness and the menacing image of the businessman hovered upon him.

“A business suite and a pen; that all it takes to end it all!” he thought

…. And the emotions kept clattering.

In despair he went to the bathroom, while stormy brainwaves kept rushing uninvited from all directions. He blamed the alcohol but his pain was deeper than that.

He became woozy. As a physician, he felt contempt for his own body; he scorned the predictability of neurophysiology and blamed that stupid Krebs cycle and all other biochemical nuisances that claimed control of his life. He tried to convince himself that the sensation of loss that he was experiencing was simply a chemical reaction that could be controlled by a good dose of aspirin. And so he untwisted the safety cap and swallowed a double dose.

As a physician, he also knew that all of this did not make any sense, that those unbridled thoughts were vapors of despair mixed with alcohol; that when the alcohol would dissipate, the anguish would still be there. He could not foresee relief to his torment as he tried to find refuge like a hermit crab without a shell. For a few long seconds, the walls of the house disappeared. The sorrow became unbearable and he wished he had somebody to talk to. The grief grew heavier and he wished for a way out:

“They shoot horses, don’t’ they?” – He declared remembering an old Jane Fonda’s movie

***

Gradually the bathroom suite, with the familiar objects restored his confidence. The bright spotlights over the mirror revived his long-established routine. And he found comfort in observing himself in the mirror.

He flossed his teeth judiciously to protract those habits that he did not want to let go; admittedly, not enough to forestall tomorrow but enough to prolong today as indefinitely as possible. When the flossing was completed, he brushed his teeth to buy even more time, to reaffirm his presence in a home that not anymore belonged to him.

More disorderly thoughts kept rushing in, while he continued to nurture his routine: take the statins, and the antacids, and the vitamins, vitamin D in particular. Perhaps, this will fix it all.

***

Then, John noticed a guy in the mirror. Just the same guy who had been flossing and brushing teeth a few moments ago; just the same guy who had been conducting that neurotic routine for the last thirty years. The same guy that soon was not going to be there anymore. John wondered what was that guy thinking and he empathized with him.

He thought it appropriate to smile in deference. That lifetime companion reciprocated with the same deferent smile.

He poured the last portion of Prosecco in the glass. The same did the other guy.

He inspected that guy carefully and he unearthed a young handsome prince as he used to be, full of dreams and energy. He mused that from the other side the guy saw just the same in him.

He then raised the glass and so did the other guy. He touched the mirror with the glass and so did the other guy; the glasses clinked!

“Salute!” he said gulping it all.

The other reciprocated

***

Then, he turned the glass upside down. He looked again at himself in the mirror. The other guy was gone and only John’s solitary reflection remained. And it was then that he said with a dazed expression shaking his head and with the glass still clasped in his hand:

“All gone!”

Yes John, this is the way life works!