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But also, the prospect of having something to occupy my hands and mind was welcome. The other option was to sit alone in front of a book I couldn’t focus on reading, while reeling over a woman who didn’t love me back.
I said, “That would be...fine.”
“Great.”
I changed into appropriate attire and met Jasper in the garage. We quickly settled into our tasks. Jasper handed me tools as needed. The repetitive motions were soothing, and we worked in a familiar, comfortable silence.
But as usual, Jasper didn’t allow the silence to last long.
“How’s work?” he asked.
“Good.”
“Any progress on the…pistachio?”
I’d nearly forgotten we’d discussed the color of my sample before. “It’s Mountain Dew now.”
“Cool. Does it glow in the dark?”
“No.”
“Too bad. That stuff—the drink I mean—looks like it should glow in the dark.”
I didn’t have an opinion about that.
“How is…” I tried to split my attention between my task and the conversation my friend clearly craved. What had he shared before that I could ask him about now? “The murder house?”
“I could never call her that now that I know her. She’s so beautiful, Gabriel, you wouldn’t believe it. Sure, we found an old leak so there was some black mold and?—”
“If it was significant enough an area of growth?—”
“Oh yeah, it was extensive. And then there were the rats, so that was exciting.”
“I hope you had a professional remove the mold. It can be dangerous in large amounts.”
“I know. It’s all good.”
“It’s gone?”
“Of course it’s gone. I told you it’s all good. She had some smudges, a few scrapes and bruises, but she’s shaping up to be so much more than I’d ever imagined.”
“She is the murder house, correct?”
“Yeah. I’m thinking of calling her Susan.”
“You’re very strange.”
He gave me a small tap on the shoulder.
“Right back at you, brother. Speaking of—” He cleared his throat. “How are you holding up since the blog incident?”
This was why he was here. He wanted to check in on me since I hadn’t given him anything more than clipped responses to texts. He wanted to assess the damage for himself.
Layana likely had surrounded herself with her friends. She was probably already back out posing for pictures, trying to put all of this—and me—behind her. She had support because she built it; she put in the effort with the people around her, creating bonds and nurturing them.
I didn’t know how to do that.
But I also didn’t want to keep allowing things to go the way they always had. I wanted to grow, to build stronger bonds with the people who chose to stick with me even though I gave them little in return.
