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“Shit,” Zane says from the hallway. “Did Sam take a monster crap again?”
“Come on,” Dom says to him. “We’re gonna go see if we can borrow a wet/dry vac and some towels from a neighbor.”
Once they’re gone, I pull off my soaking wet socks and go into my bedroom to change. I wish I could take a shower, but with the condition of the bathroom right now, that’ll have to wait.
Sam and Tate come racing up the stairs, Tate holding a dish towel. I laugh as I set it on the wet bathroom floor, where it’s immediately soaked through.
“Sorry you had to touch poop, Aunt Tess,” Tate says.
“It’s okay, Tater. But no more trying to flush toys down the toilet, okay?”
“I could make you a jelly sandwich if you want.”
“That’s okay. I’m just going to change clothes and then I’ll be back downstairs, alright?”
The boys run back downstairs and I walk into my bedroom, taking my phone out of my pocket to check messages.
Cam: I’m covering someone’s shift from 5-7 because dryer repair money. I didn’t love wearing wet jeans to work today.
I text back to tell her I saw the message. I don’t want to hit her with the overflowing toilet news by text. I’m sure she’ll be hearing I “touched poop” within ten seconds of walking in the door later.
“Hey, I’m Beck.”
“I’m Sam.”
“We both like sausage and pepperoni pizza; that’s pretty cool.”
Cam looks at me from the kitchen, her brows pinched together. “What is happening right now? I get home from work and half of a pro hockey team is eating pizza with my family.”
“It’s not half,” I tell her, grabbing another slice of pepperoni. “There are four guys here, including Dom.”
As I say his name, Dom comes walking down the stairs, a garbage bag full of wet towels in hand.
“Looks good up there. Thanks, guys.”
I still can’t believe what he did. Not only did he return from the neighbors’ houses with around a dozen old towels, he called several teammates, who brought everything else he needed and helped him with the cleanup.
Ben and Sergei showed up with two wet/dry vacs and more towels, and Beck arrived a few minutes ago with a commercial-grade fan and eight pizzas.
Ben and Sergei cleaned up the bathroom while Dom and Zane finished installing the new storm door. I just sat back and watched, stunned by all the help.
“You brought Oliver’s? Hell yeah,” Dom says as he opens a pizza box. “I’m starving.”
Zane comes up from the basement and Dom passes him a plate. “Dig in, man. This pizza’s the best.”
“Smells good. I’m starving.”
Cam and I exchange a look. This is all feeling surreal. The only people who ever come over are the kids’ friends. It’s been a long time since there was a man in our house, and now there are four. Eating pizza and chatting with the kids.
At least I had time to take down the laundry and makeshift clotheslines. It’s still a tight fit, though, having nine people in our small kitchen and living room. Hannah took her pizza to her room.
“I’ll have my dog sitter wash and dry all the towels and I’ll bring ’em back to you,” Dom tells me.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”
“You don’t have a working dryer. You need me to take some of your laundry, too?”
“Yes!” Tate says from the couch. “I’ve been wearing the same underwear for two days.”
