Surreal Estate

by Jesi Lea Ryan

“Uh, hi.”

  “Sasha, this is my dad, Bob,” I said, making the introduction. “Dad, this is Sasha.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. My brothers had clearly told my parents about Sasha and the circumstances that had him living in my empty house. I hoped they wouldn’t make Sasha uncomfortable by making a big deal out of it.

  “Nice to meet you, son,” Dad said, shaking Sasha’s hand. “I hear you’re working with Nick on that dilapidated old house. My wife tells me you boys have your work cut out for you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “‘Sir’? Nah, call me Bob. Everyone does. You like baseball?”

  Dad clasped Sasha’s shoulder and steered him into the living room. Sasha flashed me a panicked look. I only shrugged and excused myself to tell Mom we were here.

  In the kitchen, Steven stood over the stove with his tie loosened and shirt sleeves rolled, stirring gravy in a saucepan. Must’ve come straight from work. He was the only one of us boys who enjoyed cooking, which automatically gave him bonus points in the race to being Mom’s favorite.

  “Oh, good, you’re here!” Mom said, wrestling with the knotted cord of the carving knife. “Where’s Sasha? You brought him, right?”

  “Yes, Ma,” I replied, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “He’s with Dad and Damien, watching the game.”

  “Oh, good. I better say hello. You unwind this and carve the meat.”

  Mom shoved the carving knife at me and left the room. I untangled the cord and plugged it in beside where an enormous, steaming roast sat on a carving board.

  “Sounds like Mom has a new project,” Steven teased.

  I rolled my eyes. “Why’d you guys have to tell her about Sasha? The last thing he’s gonna want is her nosing around trying to adopt him.”

  “I didn’t tell her. Damey did.”

  I grunted, not caring who told, just praying Mom didn’t end up scaring Sasha off.

  “Where’s Prince Wiener?” I asked, mentally crossing my fingers that he’d had to work late or something.

  Steven glared at me. “Tod’s out on the back porch making some calls for work.”

  Sure he was. More like he was using that as an excuse not to have to associate with my family, so he wouldn’t pick up our blue-collar germs.

  “Can you do me a favor and try not to antagonize him tonight? He’s been under a lot of pressure lately, and we haven’t been getting along so well. You don’t know how much I had to beg to get him to come tonight. When you act like a dick to him, I have to deal with the fallout at home for days.”

  “I don’t know how you put up with him. He treats us all like something he scraped off the bottom of his shoe. You’re an okay guy. You could do better.”

  Steven sighed but didn’t argue. He knew I was right. Tod (aka Prince Weiner) was the grandson of a global sausage and hot dog mogul. The family-owned company had bought and merged with several other food companies over the years, making it a favorite on the Forbes list, and placing the family firmly in the top one percent. Tod worked in the family business, but doing what, I wasn’t sure. The whole year I’d lived with him and Steven, I’d only ever heard him talk about doing lunch with this bigwig or another, and name-dropping famous people who he claimed to know like his mouth had a persistent leak. I had no idea what Steven saw in him.

  I carved the roast and arranged the slices of meat on a serving plate, while Steven poured the gravy in Mom’s etched silver thing that looked like a jinni lamp.

  “Jesus, she didn’t break out the good china, did she?”

  “You know she did,” Steven replied in a singsong voice.

  “Sasha’s gonna hate this,” I grumbled, carrying the platter into the dining room, where the table was set like the Queen was coming for dinner. Steven followed with the gravy and a giant bowl of mashed potatoes.

  “Dinner’s ready,” I yelled in the direction of the living room.

  “Really, Nick!” Mom scolded. “Must you shout? I raised you with better manners.”

  “Sorry, Ma.” I rubbed the top of her head in a way that she pretended to hate.

  “Stop that. Come on, help me bring in the rest of the food.”

  Mom had gone overboard as usual. Green bean casserole, steamed corn, homemade biscuits, two desserts. Even with the extra leaf in the table, there was barely enough room for our plates. You’d think it was a holiday rather than a random Tuesday in April.

  I sat next to Sasha, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. His return grimace made me wince.

  “You okay?” I whispered.

  He nodded once and took a sip from his ice water.

  Everyone took their seats, Mom claiming the other side of Sasha so she could “get to know him.” Tod wandered in and parked himself next to Steven, opposite me. His expression was the usual combination of bored and put out.

  “So, Sasha,” Mom started, offering him the bowl of potatoes. “Tell us about yourself. Where are you from?”

  Sasha’s body stiffened, and he cleared his throat before speaking. “Oak Creek, ma’am.”

  Mom beamed, probably at his good manners, and gave me a pointed look. “And do you still have family there?”

  “Yes, my mom.” He took another drink of his water and didn’t meet her eyes.

  “Enough with the twenty questions, Ma,” I interjected. “Can’t we eat now?”

  So, we did. As usual with our family dinners, everyone talked over each other in a weave of conversation threads. Sasha only spoke when asked a direct question, but he slowly seemed to relax.

  He ate like he hadn’t had this much access to food in months, and I felt bad. Maybe he hadn’t. Sometimes, I provided lunch while working, sub sandwiches or pizza or something, but considering he was working for practically nothing, maybe I should be a little more generous.

  “Saw the guitar case in your room,” Damien said, waving his fork at Sasha. “Kelly said you played Summer Fest a couple years ago.”

  Sasha swallowed his mouthful of potatoes and nodded. “Yeah. But it was at like eleven thirty on a Wednesday morning. I think there were only about twenty people there, and most of them were our buddies.”

  “But, man, Summer Fest! All the greats have played there. You still play?”

  “Nah, the band broke up.”

  “I host some live music in my bar. You should come by and check it out sometime. Maybe you could play for us.”

  “Uh, sure. I’d be happy to.”

  When Sasha tucked back into his food, Damien gave me a quick wink. I grinned back. My brother could be a pest, but he had a good heart, and Sasha could use another friend.

  Things appeared to be going fine until dessert, when Tod finally gave in to Mom’s persistent questions and put away his phone, which he’d been obsessively checking throughout the meal.

  “I hear you were out west last week while Steven went to Florida with his friends, “ Mom said. “Was it a work trip?”

  “Yeah, San Fran. My father is working on a contract with AT&T Park to supply their concessions. The Giants hosted a charity dinner for childhood cancer or something, so he thought someone from the family should attend.”

  “That sounds nice. Did they raise a lot of money?”

  Tod shrugged. “Enough, I guess. It was five thousand dollars a plate and sold out. Robbery for overcooked filet mignon, if you ask me. But Darren Criss sat at my table, so I suppose that was worth it. He’s so funny!”

  Mom glossed over the name drop, either because she didn’t know who Darren Criss was or she didn’t care. “I’ve always wanted to see San Francisco. It sounds romantic with the hills and the fog and the—”

  “Swarms of vagrants? Really, Carol, the place is literally infested with them. I could barely leave my hotel without being accosted for money or drugs. I don’t understand why the city can’t round them all up and ship them somewhere. I hear Alcatraz isn’t being used.”

  Silence fell over the table, and Sasha’s forkful of chocolate cake froze midway to his mouth. I balled my fi
sts up, ready to leap the table and bash that fucker Tod’s teeth in. Steven gave Tod a not-so-subtle kick under the table.

  “What?” Tod exclaimed indignantly. “They really are a blight on a perfectly beautiful city. I mean, I feel for them, I really do, but what are our tax dollars paying for anyway? I’m just glad the hard freezes in Milwaukee help to drive them down south.”

  Sasha set his fork down. “Excuse me. Your restroom?”

  “Top of the steps, honey,” Mom answered, giving him an apologetic smile.

  As soon as Sasha was out of earshot, I erupted. “How fucking dare you, you arrogant prick!”

  “Not cool, man.” Damien glared at Tod. “Sasha’s a nice guy. You didn’t need to be a dick to him.”

  Dad set his cutlery down. “That was uncalled for, Tod.”

  “Tod, I’m ashamed of you.” Mom shook her head. “I will not tolerate rudeness at my dinner table.”

  Only Steven, with his face frozen in pale horror, sat silent, staring at Tod with his mouth hanging open.

  I leaped to my feet and pointed at Steven. “If you value his ass so much, you better get him the fuck out of here before I lodge my foot in it.”

  Steven stood and tugged Tod with him, giving me an apologetic frown. I didn’t forgive him. I only hoped this would convince him it was time to dump the asshole. As Tod was hustled out the door, there was the barest hint of a smirk on his face, and I made to go after him, but Damey’s viselike grip on my arm held me back.

  When the front door closed, I shook his hands off. “I’m gonna check on Sasha.”

  The only bathroom in the house was upstairs by the bedrooms. I ascended the steps two at a time. My knock on the bathroom door was louder than I’d intended.

  “Sasha, open up.”

  “It’s not locked.” He sighed.

  I opened the door to find Sasha sitting on the edge of the tub, his elbows resting on his knees. He appeared completely defeated, and I had to grip the towel rack to keep myself from catching up to Tod and rearranging his face.

  “I’m sorry, Sasha. I told you he was an asshole, but I never would’ve brought you here if I thought he’d act like that.”

  Sasha gave me a sad smile. “I know. And I shouldn’t let it get to me, but it does.”

  “Of course it does! You shouldn’t have to put up with being insulted like that. You’re a good guy and a hard worker. I’m lucky I found you, you know? I’m just so fucking sorry I subjected you to that.”

  “Not your fault. People are like that everywhere. I should be used to it by now. Before I found your house, I used to sleep in parks and under overpasses. You think I don’t know what a ‘blight on the city’ I was? How I probably will be again in a couple months? I saw it in the faces of every person who passed, even when they pretended not to see me.”

  I closed my eyes and tried to will away the image of Sasha being looked down on by mobs of strangers. Despite my martial arts training, I wasn’t really someone who solved problems with my fists, though tonight had me rethinking that. I wanted to wipe the condescension off the faces of everyone who’d ever dared treat Sasha that way. How could they not see him for the person he was?

  “You’re not a blight on anything,” I said in all sincerity. “You . . . You’re amazing. So full of . . . I don’t know . . . light? I don’t know what it is, but you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met. And I swear to you, I will never sit back and let someone treat you as less of a person again.”

  Sasha stood. “Don’t worry about it, okay? Can we get out of here now? I sort of hit my limit of being social.”

  I clasped his arm and fought the urge to pull him in for an embrace. We still hadn’t discussed what happened last night, and forcing myself on him now probably wasn’t such a good idea.

  “Okay. Let’s say goodbye. I’m sure Mom will want to know you’re all right.”

  We left the house, arms loaded with foil-wrapped leftovers. Nick’s parents had apologized profusely for Tod’s insensitivity, but it wasn’t their fault, and really, their words had just made me feel more embarrassed. It wasn’t until I climbed into Nick’s truck that I felt better. I let out an audible sigh and sank into the seat. I didn’t get any vibes from vehicles, probably because people didn’t spend enough time in them to psychically imprint on them. But the upholstery smelled like Nick, and that was nice.

  I wasn’t sure where Nick was driving, and I was too apathetic to ask. The whole day had been kind of awful for me. First, Nick had had a couple of day laborers with him when he returned from the store, so we never had our big talk. Then there had been his family. Don’t get me wrong . . . they were great people, but the combination of their wide-open-arms welcome and the happiness rolling off the walls had made me even more self-conscious that I didn’t belong. I’d just started to get a little comfortable when that asshat had started in on his rant.

  We were riding along Lake Michigan when Nick spotted a small parking lot beside the beach and pulled in. He turned the engine off and stared out at the black water. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, as if he didn’t know what to say.

  “Mind if I smoke?” I asked.

  “Oh, sure,” Nick replied distractedly and hit the buttons to roll our windows down.

  I dug my pack and lighter out of my chest pocket and lit up, careful to aim my exhale outside. When Nick didn’t speak, it became clear that I’d have to say something. The stuff at his parents’ house was too fresh, and I didn’t want to rehash it, so I decided to tackle the other elephant in the truck.

  “So, you ever kiss a guy before?” It wasn’t the most graceful way to break the ice, but it did cut to the heart of the issue. Maybe I’d been wrong when I’d pegged him as straight, but with the ex-wife and all . . . Did that make him bi, then, or was he one of those gay guys who, for one reason or another, hid it?

  Nick snorted. “No! Have to say that was a first for me.”

  I tapped my ash onto the ground. “Wanna talk about it?”

  He glanced over. “I’d rather talk about what the hell happened to you last night. Did that fucking perv hurt you?”

  Shit. How could I explain to Nick what had spooked me? “No, he didn’t hurt me. But I . . . I didn’t realize until after I got there that something was off about him. And when I tried to leave, he shoved me against the door and wouldn’t let me go.”

  “Jesus, Sasha . . .”

  “Then, I called you.”

  “What do you mean by ‘something was off’ about him? What scared you to begin with?”

  “Um, it’s hard to explain . . .” His condo gave me psychic visions from what he did to others in the past.

  “Try.”

  I took another drag on my cigarette before answering. “I was sick. And I thought he had a knife.”

  “You were sick? You okay now?”

  I nodded. “It was . . . temporary.”

  He gave me a heavy stare. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me.” The only person I’d ever tried to tell besides my zayde was Justin, but he’d thought I was screwing with him, so I’d let it go.

  “What did I tell you about assuming shit about me? I might look like a meathead, but I think I’m fairly open-minded.”

  “I don’t think you’re a meathead.”

  “So why not lay it all out here? What’s said in the truck stays in the truck. You can trust me.”

  “I know I can, it’s just . . .”

  “Just nothing. Go for it. I’m all ears.”

  I tossed the cigarette butt out onto the pavement and turned in my seat to face him. A little knot of worry wrinkles formed between his brows, and I had to clench my fist to keep from reaching up to smooth them away.

  “Fine. You ask me a question, and then I get to ask you one. And no arguing with each other. We listen and accept the answers as truth.”

  “A bit cheesy, but I’m game. I go first. What did you mean that you were sick?”

  “I’
m kind of . . . psychic. I get visions and feel emotional energy from spaces like rooms and houses. I was fine until I walked in Trevor’s condo, but once inside, I was overcome with the bad vibes, and it made me weak and queasy. My turn now.”

  “What? No, it’s not your turn! What do you mean you’re psychic?”

  “Not until it’s your turn again, cheater. So, tell me, do you regret kissing me?”

  “No.”

  “No? That’s it?”

  Nick smirked. “Guess you’ll have to wait until it’s your turn to get more answers. Now you tell me, specifically this time, what you mean by psychic visions.”

  “You don’t have to believe me. I understand—”

  “Did I say I didn’t believe you? Answer the question.”

  “Fine.” Dang, this was hard. “Okay, remember the day I told you about the brick wall supporting the house? Well, I knew it was there because it was originally planned to be the exterior wall. My best guess is that the builder decided to make the home larger sometime after construction started. Anyway, the bricks were exposed until the nineteen twenties, when they plastered it up.”

  “And you know this from a vision?”

  “Yes. I don’t see them all the time. Memories sort of imprint on a place when something emotional happens. Every house or building or room I walk into has its own emotional signature depending on what sort of memories it has. Most of the time I only get a feeling. The visions come when the space is really agitated. And if they’re extremely intense, the emotions seep into me. Last night, when I was in Trevor’s condo, the atmosphere of sexual violence was so strong, it made me want to hurt him. Scared the shit out of me.”

  Nick’s jaw worked back and forth. I scrutinized him for signs he was going to kick me out of his truck, but didn’t see any. He seemed lost in thought.

  “Can you please say something, because I can’t tell what you’re thinking?”

  “Sorry,” he said, with a small shrug. “Is this why when you walk through an empty room, you hug the walls like you’re avoiding furniture?”

  “You noticed that?”

  “Well, yeah.” He admitted. “And is this also how you knew about the leak in the bathtub drain?”