“If you could come by tomorrow, if you’re free, and help me clean out the eaves troughs? Celeste and I have tried several times, but we’re just not great at that job in particular,” June requests. Or demands?I’m not sure I have much wiggle room when she speaks to me, as if her word is final even when it’s posed as a suggestion. I can see where Celeste gets her confidence from.
I dip my head in obligatory agreement, “Sure thing, I can do that.”
“Any chance you are one of those handy types? Knows how to fix a leaky toilet, kind of thing?” June asks, and it feels like a loaded question.
I answer honestly not knowing where it will land me, “I do. I was left to my own devices a lot growing up and we didn’t have spare cash for a plumber, so I’m a bit of an aficionado at self-sufficiency.”
June nods her approval as I make my way out of the house. I wave to June, telling her I’ll be back again at the same time tomorrow.
* * *
The following day’s heat beats down on me.
The things you do for love.
Or, your love’smother,as it were.I sigh as I pull the final handful of muck from the troughs and toss it down into an awaiting yard bag. I gingerly step down the ladder and fold it back up, leaning it against the side of their house and tug off the sweaty, thick, garden gloves I was mindful enough to bring with me. I roll up the yard waste bag and pile it on the curb before rounding back towards the house and knocking. June opens the door with a smile and beckons me in. She has sandwiches and lemonade set out on the kitchen table.
“If you’re hungry, I made some early lunch.” She gestures to the food as my stomach growls. I promptly sit down and help myself to one of the two sandwiches, biting into a simple but delicious ham and cheese.
“Thank you Mrs. Pinkfordt, I appreciate the food.” I say around a mouthful.
She waves me off and scoffs, “Please, call me June. And it’s the least I can do, since you did some manual labor for us. It’s tricky around here sometimes with just Celeste and me.” Shelooks around and I follow her gaze, now noticing little nicks in the wall, a window in need of repair, a sticky note on the fridge that reads “light bulbs 40 watts x3”.
“It’s no problem at all,” I say, offering her a smile.
“He was around before, you know.” June’s voice is quiet but as sharp as a knife. I glance up to meet her gaze.
“I’m sorry?” I ask in confusion, sipping my lemonade.
“Celeste’s father. He used to be around. When she was younger. Then, he up and left when…” She quiets, gazing out the window, chewing on the side of her thumb.
Colours seep in through the holographic film spilling across the table and floor. I keep my focus down on the violet and blue hues, leaving the space open for her to continue or not.
“Well,” she looks at me then, her features softening as she offers me a tight smile, “I’ll let Celeste tell you the story. But just so you know, she had someone, and then he left when things got hard. She can’t have that again.” Her tone indicates something raw and real, a side to Celeste I’ve never been privy to.
“I never meant to hurt her,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. My eyes stay downcast, unable to meet June’s. I feel shame wash over me and I expect to be berated by a mother that’s so clearly protective and devoted to the well-being of her daughter. But in the beat of silence, I dare a glance up at her, her eyes still soft, no anger on her face whatsoever. Her hand tentatively reaches out and rests atop my forearm, giving it a small comforting squeeze.
“Oh honey, I know. The way Celeste has talked about you…” She sighs, pulling her hand back. “I know. But it’s time Celeste knows too.” She looks at me with one of those soul-crushing stares, like she can read my mind, pulling all the thoughts from my head to analyze them herself. I must look queasy at the idea of laying it all on the table for Celeste because she huffs a small laugh and gathers our dishes up, carrying them to the sink.
“It doesn’t have to be today, Dominic. Think it over. But,” She turns to me, “However you decide to win her back, make amends, put it all out there whatever…Make. It. Big.”
I’m almost startled at June’s sudden interference and clear indication that she wants me to try with Celeste. I move slowly from the table with this new conundrum placed in my lap, my mouth going dry at the thought of planning something big enough for Celeste. She deserves the freaking world, how the hell am I going to impress her?
As if June reads my mind,yet again,she says over her shoulder, “I can’t tell you what you need to do, you have to put in the work. But come back tomorrow to help me with some of the gardening, and we can mull over some ideas together.”
I nod to her back silently—which I’m sure she knew because she’s clearly omniscient—thank her for the lunch, and head for the door. I had some planning to do and Celeste to woo.
I return the next morning to find June bent over and grumbling into some of the bushes growing in her front gardens. I duck as a weed is thrown over her shoulder, narrowly missing my face.
“Good morning, June,” I say, by way of greeting.
“Oh, hi, Dominic. Thanks for coming. Hand me that hoe, would you?”
My eyes shift left and right, and I find myself shocked and speechless and also on the verge of giggling like a fourth grader.
“Oh my God. Dominic, if you can’t keep a straight face when I use the wordhoehow can I take you seriously for my daughter.” Her tone is jovial but stern. I swallow my laugh and pull the garden tool from the porch and hand it to her.
“Sorry, June.”
