“A strong one, right?”
“The strongest. I got you a bag of Colombian roast at the store, and Chris found a French press at the other place. According to the map, we’ll be at the house in twenty-five minutes. Chris? You’re in charge of coffee distribution when we get there.”
“Absolutely.”
“I think we’re going to have to make a second trip back to Ellsworth later today or tomorrow,” I say, feeling my nerves go on even higher alert. There is so much to do. “The house is probably a dump after all this time.”
“Hey, B., relax. We’re here to help.” I have missed how Sabin takes care of me. “You have nothing to worry about. It’s a big deal to go to this house. We get that. For real. And we’re honored that you let us crash the party. We’ll make as many car trips back and forth as you want until you have everything that you need for the house.”
“Of course we will,” Chris adds. “Anything you guys need.”
I feel better. Itisa big deal to see the house again. “James? You all right?”
“I am. I want to be here. And we’ve got backup now.” He high-fives Sabin. I like how these two have buddied up.
I agree. We have the best backup possible.
I bounce my foot nonstop as we get closer, and Jonah pants out the window while I stroke his fur obsessively. Ellsworth’s chain stores have disappeared, and greenery takes over as we climb a hill. As Sabin relays directions to James, I am surprised to feel a smile overtake me. From the road that leads to the house—our house—I catch glimpses of the dark blue ocean through the trees. We are close. I don’t know if I’m remembering or if I just feel it. James takes us down a hill, closer to the water, then takes a sharp right, and we go down a long driveway that lands us by a substantial lawn. I look to the right at our house.
It’s beat up. It needs a serious paint job. White chips are practically flaking off in the wind. The lawn has been mowed, but the overgrowth around the back of the house is going to be a big project. The deck off the front needs major work.
To me, however, the house is spectacularly beautiful.
I let Jonah out and follow as he leads the way. I am in a daze, and it’s not from the leftover alcohol that is surely still running through my system.
I remember.I run ahead a bit. Leafy tree branches hang over the land in front of the house, but I know that to the left is a wooden staircase that leads to another grassy area, and past that is the rocky bit of shore that is ours. Chris catches up to me.
“You okay?”
I nod. The concern in his voice is unnecessary. “I remember this, Chris. I haven’t until now. The days before and after the fire? I told you I don’t remember them. All this? The house? It was blank. We’d been up here just a few days before… But I’m starting to remember this house at least. Wait. The living room. It has cathedral ceilings and a fireplace with a stone hearth. Tons of big windows. And there is a staircase there to the second floor.” My memories are spilling out. “Next to it is the dining room with sliding glass doors to a porch. The kitchen is huge. I mean, huge. Like maybe this place used to be a… a bed and breakfast or something. My mother said… She said something about having friends up to visit when we were here. How we could have as many people as we wanted with all the room. Upstairs is a long hallway lined with bedrooms. I don’t know how many. I can’t remember that. And down by the water? A long skinny dock that leads to a square platform dock. It had a small boat tied to it. A kayak…” I shake my head. “No, no, a canoe, maybe. I’m not sure.”
“That’s all right.” Chris is smiling at me, and he gestures to the house. “Well, go find out.”
I call for Jonah and he immediately returns to me, his tail thumping against my legs. I hear the others behind us, and then James is next to me. “Holy shit, Blythe,” he says. He is as stunned as I am. “The house is so big.” He takes my hand. “I didn’t remember it being this big.”
“Me neither.”
“Go inside,” Eric prods. “Check it all out.”
I turn to James, and he gives me a look that tells me he agrees with what I’m about to say.
“We’re all going in together.”
Sabin’s hand is on my shoulder. “Don’t you think you two should do this alone?”
“No. This is for all of us.”
It takes that entire first month for me to feel like the house is in acceptable shape. The furnishings that came with it are outdated, but they fit the feel of a summer vacation home. I can’t imagine this old house filled with a bunch of sleek modern shit from Crate and Barrel. It is supposed to have the mismatched chairs and a lumpy sofa. The dining room has a long wooden farmer’s table with exactly enough room for all of us to sit comfortably on the benches, worn soft over time. I’m grateful I thought ahead to order so much online, because the kitchen is filled with essentials and we have all-new sheets and towels.
There are six modestly sized bedrooms upstairs. Eric and Zach are in one room, and the rest of us in our own rooms. Although I suspect that Estelle and James are sharing on occasion. I’m pretending that their overt flirtation is nothing more than innocent fun, but the floor in the upstairs hallway creaks loudly, and I hear doors open and close at odd hours. The rooms all have sturdy-enough platform beds, and I’ve replaced a few of the more saggy mattresses with thicker versions made of memory foam. So far I have not actually heard beds squeaking, and I am grateful. We salvaged a number of old quilts, although it took a few rounds through the washing machine for me to feel as though they were hygienic enough to sleep under. General dusting, vacuuming, scouring, and polishing have made a world of difference. The house feels warm and alive. James has started ripping up linoleum on one of the bathrooms and tiling it himself, and I’m very impressed with what he knows how to do.
While James and Estelle may be room hopping, Chris and I have stayed in separate rooms. We are affectionate, regularly touching each other in passing, even snuggling on the couch by the fire at the end of the day. We started a routine where he reads aloud to me from old paperbacks at night, and there is something incredibly intimate about it. Yet we haven’t even kissed. We are coupled up, that is clear, but we haven’t acted on it. Chris hasn’t actually tried to get things going, but that’s because I haven’t let him. I know how he moves, how he sounds, how he breathes when he’s about to move in. I haven’t let it happen because… well, because he was supposed to get married less than a month ago. Because I’m scared. But I let him hold me in his arms, I let him stroke my hair, and I let him watch me. And he watches me all the time. I love the feel of his eyes on me, the way he takes me in, and the way the hint of a smile crosses his face when he knows that I’ve caught him.
Of course, I watch him, too. He, and James, and Sabin have been painting the outside of the house, and watching Chris shirtless on the ladder while he works on my house is undeniably hot. I’m glad he doesn’t hide his scar from anyone. James did give me a questioning look, but I just shook my head. Sometimes I take a break from what I’m doing and sit on the lawn under the guise of supervising. I used to yell out, “You missed a spot!” every few minutes just to piss them off, but after all three of them tackled me with dripping paintbrushes last week, I stopped. I’m still washing paint from my hair.
I notice one thing in particular about the painting process: how Chris subtly discourages Sabin from working on a ladder. He frequently redirects Sabin to the lower windows, to the porch, and to the siding that he can reach from the ground. He has the same unspoken concern that I do. Sabin is drinking too much. We all drink, yes, and I’m no exception, but Sabin is consistently drinking during the day. I know that he’s just staying around the house, and we’ve got a fun party atmosphere going on, but his drinking has a different edge to it. He’s been in a great mood, though, so it’s not like it’s causing trouble. Yet.
It’s an unusually warm Saturday almost four weeks from the day we arrived when I take my first swim alone. We usually go down to the ocean as a group, but for some reason, after my early evening run on this particular day, I want time alone.
