Page 18 of Clean Sweep
I looked around at the space. "So, getting back to this mess. What can go?"
Erik gestured at a pile of furniture and boxes. "That's for the house." He twisted, nodding at another rough pile. "That's for donations, and that," he pointed to the last rough pile. "Is junk and can be tossed."
I eyed the second largest pile. "And exactly where in your house are these things going?"
Erik hesitated.
"You were going to say the attic, weren't you?"
He huffed out a laugh, shrugging. "They're things the boys will use when they get older."
I pushed up, crossing to the pile and beginning to sort through it. "Okay, the desk can go in your office – you need one. This," I held up a ratty jersey. "You really want to keep this?"
"Hey," Erik snatched it away from me, hugging it to his chest. "This is a prized possession."
I quirked an eyebrow, skeptical.
"This, my friend, is a St Louis Blues jersey. A jersey that I wore every single day of the 2018-19 season. The season, Laura, where they started as the lowest team in the entire competition. Fifty-four years without a Stanley Cup. Everyone gave them zero chance of a change. They lost a coach before the season, and had a rookie goalie. No one but the fans believed in them. Then they won eleven games in a row. They made it to the Western Conference finals. Then the Stanley Cup finals. Then they won the whole thing. The whole damned thing, Laura." He lifted the jersey. "It took me all season but I got every single signature." He gave me a serious look. "And I didn't even touch on the babies, puppy or Bob and Layla."
Bob?
"Are we talking about St. Louis, Missouri?" I asked. "You don't live anywhere near there."
"But my ma is born and raised, and my grandparent's bleed blue all year long."
"Well, hand it over then." I gestured at him. He hesitated then gave me the jersey, watching suspiciously as I smoothed it out then held it up to the light, examining the fabric and noting the placement of the signatures.
"What are you going to do with it?" He asked, watching me like a hawk.
"You'll see." I tossed it over my shoulder, gesturing towards the internal door. "Now, would you like to see your newly improved kitchen?"
"Lead on."
The crew followed us; a second crew already set up to capture Erik's reaction. He didn't disappoint.
His mouth dropped open, his eyes bugging out of his head as he looked around. "I have white tiles."
I laughed, nodding. "Yeah, turns out they just had years of grime build up. A deep scrub and soak and that backsplash looks like new."
"Damn," he muttered, running a hand over the kitchen benchtop. "I haven't seen this since before I moved in."
He wasn't wrong. The kitchen had been particularly heinous.
I opened his pantry, gesturing for him to come see.
"Holy… wow." He remarked, surprised at the orderliness. "I can actually see what I own."
"I know!" I chirped, incredibly pleased by his reaction. "I even bought you a labeler so you can create your own containers in future."
"Did you organize the contents of my fridge too?" he asked, looking a little shellshocked.
"Actually…"
Erik laughed, moving to the fridge, opening it, then laughing again. "You did."
I shrugged. "Got to do a thorough clean."
I guided him through the kitchen, explaining how we'd change a few cupboards to drawers, and showing him how to use the new kid safety locks we'd placed on them. I showed him where I'd stored his various items, and guided him through the new process I'd put in place to make his life easier by food prepping.
