Page 9 of You Were Invited
“No.”
“Fine.”
“You could take care of some stairs for me, though.”
Julian cocked his head to the side. “You’re not talking about that weekend warrior project you’ve griped and groaned about for nearly a decade?”
Rich nodded. “A long, hard look in the mirror yesterday made me realize that a younger me has screwed me over.”
Julian smiled. “Well, when do you need me?”
“Go look. You tell me when.” Rich finished scanning the groceries. When Julian pulled his wallet out, Rich shook his head. “I’ll credit your account. Next couple trips are on the house, too. Could I also get a couple cords of that wood out there?”
Julian was used to having tightfisted roadside customers dicker for their firewood, and free groceries felt like a fair trade. He smiled. “I’ll stack it behind the store on Saturday.”
“I’m goin’ nowhere. Nice speakin' atcha.”
After putting his groceries in his rig, Julian walked around to the back of the store. Rich’s apartment was on the second floor. A set of rickety stairs went up the side of the faded red brick on the gold-rush era building. To his knowledge, the stairs had been rebuilt once and then heavily repaired twice. A few flecks of white paint remained on the weathered gray wood.
He walked up four steps of the safety code nightmare. Immediately, the boards swayed too much for comfort. He was tempted to wrap the entire thing in caution tape, but he knew it would be ignored by the only person who used them.
I’ll rebuild the whole thing. He’ll have better stairs than what was here a hundred years ago.
At the end of Main, Julian turned left at the fork. His truck roared up the mountain to his cabin, twenty miles outside of Northgold, before he took a right off the highway and drove down the slightly slushy driveway he shared with four other cabins. He parked near his hydraulic log splitter.
He’d bought the forest green A-frame cabin for cheap. It’d had rotten plumbing, threadbare carpets, peeling countertops, a horrendously squeaky and soft bathroom floor, and heavy condensation in the windows.His loan officer tried talking him out of the deal.
“This dilapidated pile is going to be a time and money pit. More than the mortgage. I’d stick with your old man’s place if I were you.”
“I’ve got time, and I can make the money.”The property was surrounded by ten acres, as well as hundreds of miles of wild anduntouchable park land. It had been love at first sight for Julian; the moment he’d laid eyes on it, he couldn’t wait to be home.
Stretching his arms and flexing his neck, Julian climbed the wooden steps to his front door, which he’d painted black. He unlocked its three bolts and flipped on the lights.
The previous winter had been a productive one. He’d sanded and stained every wall in the living and dining room, color matching to the original light golden hue. He’d torn out the dusty main floor carpet, and stained the wood flooring underneath a cherry red that complemented the black of the free-standing wood stove. When the morning sun shone through the two large front windows, it turned the floor a bright red. He’d trimmed corners with white cotton cord and had also strung up patio lights on the ceiling, running it beneath the open second floor that was nestled into the lofty peak of the A-frame. He thought it looked… “whimsical.”
In the kitchen and bathroom, both of which were under the loft, he’d only had time to replace the subfloor and plumbing. To his surprise, when he’d torn into the walls, he’d found some pellet BBs. The old owners had simply papered over the damaged drywall and “updated” it with a very groovy orange floral wallpaper.
He hauled his groceries into the house. After searching for a minute, he realized he’d forgotten his all-in-one body wash.Well, damn… All I have is dish soap. Guess I’ll save myself time, washing up my ass while I take care of the pots and forks, too. At least until Friday.He also realized in the same breath that he hadn’t seen his work gloves since that afternoon. When he couldn’t find them inside or outside, he resigned himself to finding a new pair before he cut down another tree.
Julian scooped a cup of cat food into the small metal bowl in the kitchen. The kibble rattled and pinged. His cat, Kitty, was likely hiding under the bed upstairs.
I feel like the keeper of a haunted house. The food and water disappear, then reappears in the litter box. But the damn cat stays out of sight.
He cooked an early supper of eggs and relaxed in his recliner in front of the fireplace. With a grunt, he kicked his legs out and took his plate to the sink. As he rinsed the chipped ceramic surface, he caught a glimpse of his mail out of the corner of his eye. A dreadful feeling punched his stomach.
He’d been in such a rush to start working that he hadn’t sorted his mail. If he’d seen the letter from his father, he would’ve chucked it directly into the bin at the post office. He hadn’t gotten a letter in months. Apparently, his fatherhadn’tfinally accepted the truth: that Julian wanted nothing to do with him.
Morbid curiosity got the better of him, and he sliced it open with a steak knife. The paper ripped jaggedly beneath the teeth of the blade.
In chicken-scratch scrawl, it read:
Dear Son,
I hope you’re taking care of yourself. I know you haven’t yet, but write back or call. Even if it’s to call me a son-of-a-bitch. I’d like to hear your voice. I’ve been thinkin’ lately. About how I wanted to be as a husband and father to your mother and you. Alcohol turns you into a person who says and does hurtful things. Makes those around you helpless. You probably don’t want to hear this from me, but the first time I realized you were following the same path, I felt a deeper helplessness than I already felt. And I hated that it made me drink more. Ihope you’ve found your own community and support and that you’re sticking to your goals. I pray that I haven’t used all my chances with you. May God be with you, Son.
Clive
The hell is that God stuff? The last time he stepped foot in a church was to marry Mom.Maybe it was some sort of thing Clive Lincoln said nowadays because his jailhouse AA group had convinced him it would make him feel better.
