Page 14 of Say Something
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Oh, hell no. He wasnotgoing to act like a juvenile and get away with it. I turned to stomp into the house behind Michael, but the moment my right foot pounded down on the porch, it went straight through a rotted-out board, and I fell on my ass.
“Son of a bitch!” I yelled, yanking my foot up through the hole. I tore a hole in my leggings and lost my shoe in the process. Rubbing my hands over my face, I wondered,could this morning get any better?
“What’s the matter?” Michael asked, poking his head out the door. “Are you okay?” he asked when he saw me on the floor.
“I’m great. My porch tried to eat my leg, and you’re being a dick. Just peachy.”
He looked down at my shoeless foot and the new hole in the porch and shook his head. He walked around me, down the steps, and got down on his hands and knees in the grass to look under the porch. I heard scratching noises below me for a minute before he got back on his feet and handed me my lost shoe over the railing.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, shaking the dirt out of my flat before slipping it back on my foot.
He grunted a response and walked back up the steps, past me, and into the house. “You coming?” he hollered over his shoulder.
I leaned my head back and looked up at the cracked porch light. Yet another item to add to the list. Taking a couple of deep, cleansing breaths, I got up and followed him into the house. He was standing at the kitchen counter, looking over the clipboard Dean had left behind and making some notes. I walked right up to him, about to ask him if we could just hash out whatever was between us and get it out of the way, when he started speaking.
“It looks like you’ll need some repairs to the front porch deck, new exterior light fixtures, and some patchwork on the walls. A couple doors aren’t set right, and I’d recommend just going ahead and replacing all of them so they’ll match. I don’t think they make the style you have anymore so we wouldn’t be able to match just one. There’s only three of them and there wouldn’t be much of a difference in cost. We can smooth out the popcorn ceiling, if you don’t like the look, repairing the water marks while we’re at it with some new drywall. Then there’s the flooring and the paint. You’ll want new carpeting, for sure, or hardwood. The kitchen and bathroom cabinets are outdated, but they can be refinished to look good as new, and the appliances aren’t too old, so I think you’ll be all right with what’s here if you’re not eager to replace them. I’d recommend installing ceiling fans so you don’t have to run your A/C in the spring. Oh, and the windows that aren’t broken aren’t sealed properly. We can seal them, but they’re pretty poor quality. They’re single-pane so you’ll end up with drafts in the winter, so you may want to replace all of them. The exterior looks pretty good. Brick stands up to weather and wear. I know a roofer who can take a good look at the roof to see the source of the leaks, but tin roofs tend to keep well, so I’d bet it’s fine. Probably just condensation from the HVAC unit, so we’ll have someone take a look at that. Mr. Smith had a tenant not too long ago, so my guess is the plumbing and electrical will be fine when they’re turned on, but we can have people look at that, too, if you want.” Michael finally looked up from the clipboard. I just stared at him. “What?” He said.
“What?”Is he serious?
“Yeah, what? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You haven’t said two words to me since you got here, and when you do, it’s all mechanical drivel about the house. How about, ‘Hey, sis, how’s it going?’ or ‘It’ll be nice working with you on this,’ or even just a big fat ‘Fuck you?’ Why the cold shoulder, Mikey? If you didn’t want to do the job, if you don’t want to be around me, why didn’t you just refer me to someone else? Why go through all this?” I asked, waving my hands around. I tried keeping the emotion out of my voice, but I cracked over the last few words.
“All right, Jess,” he said, standing up straight and facing me with a sneer. “Fuck you.”
I gasped as he pushed past me and walked out the front door. Tears filled my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall. I couldn’t. I had no right. My brother was clearly more upset with me than I’d realized. I was naïve to think that just because everyone else had welcomed me back with open arms that Michael would, too. He had every right to be upset with me. We didn’t really hang out a lot growing up, but he’d always been the most sensitive out of all of us. Bryan, Melissa, and I were the outgoing ones, participating in all the school activities and hanging out with our friends. Michael kept to himself. He was the quiet, shy one our parents never had to worry about since he was pretty much always at home studying.
But thinking back, we’d always talked…Michael and me. In high school, when I was still living at home, I’d always checked in with him, making sure everything was okay and no one was picking on my nerdy little brother. That continued through college. When I’d make my weekly phone calls back home, I always asked to speak with him, and we’d spend some time talking about his days and his classes. I carved out time for him when I came home on breaks, too. It was a given that I’d spend time with Melissa and Bryan because we ran in the same crowds, but I didn’t have that guarantee with Michael so I made sure I spent time with him. When Danny and I got married and I started my career, I still made time to talk to Mikey.
Then my world started to fall apart and I stopped. I went from talking to him at least once a week, to not speaking to him at all for nearly five years. How could I have forgotten that?
I was a terrible sister.
In my sessions with my therapist, we’d spoken about my family briefly, basically highlighting how they had always been supportive, and how I’d assumed they would always be supportive. The crux of my issues laid with Danny and my infertility, so the doctor and I hadn’t really touched on my other interpersonal relationships or lack thereof. Maybe if we had, I would have thought about the dissolution of my relationship with Michael sooner.
I sighed, looking down at the clipboard he’d left on the counter. I picked it up and did a quick walk-through of the house, making sure the lights were turned off and the windows were closed. I was certain Michael would be long gone. Living in a small town meant you could pretty much walk anywhere you needed to go if you really wanted to, and I was centrally located right off Main Street, so I imagined he’d begun hoofing it to wherever his job site was.
I stepped out the front door, locking it behind me, and reached into my bag for my cell phone. I would call my mother and ask where Michael’s office was, then drop off the clipboard. I wasn’t about to call him. He probably wasn’t ready to deal with me yet, and I couldn’t blame him. I wouldn’t be ready to deal with me if I were him, either.
I was looking down at my phone as I walked, so I didn’t see the figure leaning up against my car until I almost bumped right into it.
I jumped, dropping my keys to the driveway.
“You scared the crap out of me!” I scolded, holding my hand flat against my chest.
“Sorry, Jessie.”
