A Basic Renovation

by Sandra Antonelli

  ‘Lesley, stop.’

  She dragged her hands back through her hair. ‘You blamed me? For years you had the balls to think I had anything to do with it? You believed Terry when you knew he was a liar? You blamed me even when you knew he was screwing and lying and using everyone you knew? It’s all about you. It’s because of how Terry treated you because of what he did to you!’

  ‘That’s enough, Lesley.’ Dominic said in a voice that made him sound as if he’d been punched in the stomach as well as the nose.

  ‘That’s why you asked me if I knew anything about why Stefanie left you, isn’t it? You were so sure she told me.’

  His chair screeched across the tiles as he shoved back and stood. ‘That’s enough, Lesley!’

  Lesley looked up into his eyes and watched that blue fame turn to Antarctic ice, but she couldn’t help it. She’d got a second wind and had no control of how fast her tongue went. Words tumbled out, ‘There you are, my boy? Every father should buy his son a car? My blood is your blood, flesh and bone marrow forever and ever? Oh, my God.’

  ‘Don’t say it.’

  ‘Kyle.’

  Completely overtaken by fearful danger, forgetting who she was, Dominic leaned towards her and whispered harshly, ‘Don’t!’

  ‘You think Terry’s his father.’

  ‘Dad?’

  Dominic’s heart turned to jelly. When he looked over his shoulder he knew he’d been damned.

  Kyle stood in the doorway holding tight to Melody’s hand. The boy looked terror-stricken, wounded, sick and young, so young. ‘What…are you…’ Kyle licked his lips and gazed at him, ‘Dad?’

  Feeling helpless, desperately trying to stem a spiral into panic, Dominic jerked Lesley out of his way. The bag of peas in her hands fell to the floor with a splat. ‘Kyle, listen,’ he said. ‘I…you…Oh, Jesus.’

  Kyle began to back into the dining room. ‘No. No way. Not that…that douche! He is not! There’s no way. No way.’ The boy spun and took off, running through the living room, dragging his girlfriend along. He threw open the front door, dashing outside.

  Dominic tried to shoot out after him, but he lost his footing when he trod on the bag of once-frozen peas. He skidded across the tiles and slammed into the arched doorway, knocking the phone from the wall. By the time he got to the front door, the Camaro was squealing up the street. Heart stuck behind his teeth, he lumbered to the end of the driveway. ‘Fuck! Oh, fuck!’

  ‘Dominic.’

  Lesley’s frozen pea-cooled fingers touched his wrist and he yanked free of her grasp. Heartsick, he turned and stared at her. ‘Don’t.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was there.’

  ‘Why didn’t keep your mouth shut? Why did you say it?’

  She looked down at her feet, loose hair spilling across her face for a moment. Then she reached out to his wrist again. ‘I was upset. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.’

  ‘You were upset? You’re sorry?’ He brushed her fingers off. ‘Do you know what you’ve done?’

  ‘What I’ve done? You’re going to blame me for this too?’

  ‘Leave.’

  ‘What?

  ‘You heard me. Go home.’ Dominic’s voice was low, but his mind screamed. He knows. He knows and it’s all over. I’ve lost it all. I’ve lost him. I’ve lost him. ‘Go home, Lesley,’ he rumbled as if his throat were filled with gravel.

  ‘I’ll wait here with you until Kyle comes back or we can loo—’

  ‘I don’t need your help. I don’t need you! Just go.’ She stared at him, biting her top lip and Dominic couldn’t take it anymore. The horror that he’d been exposed as a fraud beset him. He shouted, ‘Leave! I don’t want you here! I don’t want you. Leave!’

  Lesley flinched. Her cheeks lost all colour as she stood motionless under the scorching daytime sun. ‘Dominic?’ she said.

  Suddenly, his hands were on her shoulders. It took every last grain of control left in him to keep from shaking her. He glared down into Lesley’s small, very white face. ‘I don’t want you here anymore! All this started when you walked into the store. Things would have stayed the way they were if you’d never come back. I didn’t think about it. I didn’t have to worry. Then you showed up, opened Pandora’s Box and ruined everything.’ His hands slipped from her and he backed away from her. ‘My God. My God, Lesley! You didn’t wreck Terry’s life, but you just fucking demolished mine!’

  Martino set a slice of carrot cake on the checkerboard table and sighed. He reached for his espresso Frappuccino and sucked up a little too much icy coffee. His sinus cavity screamed at him in protest so he shoved a thumb into his mouth and rubbed his chilled palate until the discomfort abated. Then he stood beside the table and waited.

  And waited.

  ‘Well,’ he said after another strawful, ‘are you going to eat it or stare at it?’

  Witteveen exhaled. The sound came out of his nose with a slightly stuffed-up wheeze. He picked up a fork and speared it into the cake.

  Martino smiled to himself. If there was one thing he knew Mike couldn’t resist it was dessert, any dessert. Christ almighty, when the man was out of money to bet with, he’d start betting the cookies his daughter-in-law sent him. He pulled up a chair and sat.

  ‘Don’t think I’m going to play checkers with you,’ Mike mumbled with a hunk of cake in his mouth. ‘I don’t suppose you could have sprung for a cup of joe too, huh?’

  Martino gave a glance and nod to Pia behind the counter. A mug of milky Starbucks coffee-of-the-day was on the table in twenty seconds. ‘While I don’t condone what you did,’ Martino put his Frappucino on the table, ‘I can understand why. Somewhat.’

  The fork paused in front of Mike’s mouth. ‘Are you apologising? Is that an apology?’

  ‘An apology? Cazzo! You tried to burn down my granddaughter’s house!’

  ‘My house! And you stole my girlfriend!’

  Martino leaned forward. ‘You sold the house after dickin’ around with it for over a decade, Eilish was never your girlfriend, and I bailed your ass out of jail!’

  ‘I didn’t ask for your help.’ Mike shoved another chunk of cake into his mouth.

  ‘What the hell were you going to do, sit in there ‘til your kid came all the way from Las Cruces? Pah!’

  ‘Carlsbad. Matt’s in Carlsbad.’ Mike licked cream cheese frosting from his bottom lip. ‘I’ve got nothing. Nothing. I’m all alone.’

  ‘Well, ain’t you throwing yourself a great big pity party! And me without any balloons or champagne.’

  ‘Eff you.’

  Martino smiled. It had taken five years, but Aces was beginning to get the hang of cussing – sort of. ‘Don’t be afraid of the word. It doesn’t bite and it feels good to say.’

  Stony faced, his old friend gulped coffee.

  ‘Minchia, don’t you understand? You get one crack at life. Yours ain’t over yet, but you’re sitting around waiting to die. That’s what you’re doing. You’re waiting to die because you’ve forgotten how to live.’

  ‘Forgotten how to live? I’m alone. I’m all alone! Are you happy now?’

  ‘You’ve got friends. Listen, Sad Sack Dutch Boy, you want to come to a party? A real party? Not this pezzo di merde where you’re the only card-carrying member?’

  Mike hooked a finger behind his front teeth and began to pick out whatever was stuck.

  Swearing, Martino stood up and grabbed his Frappuccino. Women were easier to appease than this dope, but it made him sick to watch the old fart sit there like a dried-out turd. Someone needed to show him. He needed to learn life was always worth living at any age. He tamped down his frustration about playing social director for the elderly and put a hand on Ace’s shoulder. ‘Come to church with me next Thursday night.’

  ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘Because I’m asking you to be my best man.’

  John held open a door she hadn’t remembered knocking upon. Soft air-conditioned fingers tickled over her face
and the auto-pilot switched off. All at once she found herself standing in his house parched, overheated, soaked with sweat, her feet throbbing. ‘Hi, she said with a dry mouth, cracked lips stuck to her teeth, ‘Can I get a drink of water?’

  ‘Sure.’ John said.

  She followed him into the kitchen and watched him take out a glass and fill it. When he turned, his easy, welcoming smile turned to concern as he handed her the water. ‘Are you sunburned?’

  Lesley glanced down at her arms. They were bright pink. The carnation hue was a perfect accent colour for the ruby still shining on her left hand. She figured she ought to burst into tears, but she realised she was too dehydrated and numb, completely numb. ‘Sunburned?’ she said. ‘Yeah. I guess so.’

  ‘That’s going to hurt.’ He peered at her face as she guzzled the liquid. ‘I’ve got some aloe vera gel upstairs. You’d better put some on now and take it with you for later.’

  ‘For later?’ She shook her head, feeling the tiniest prickles of dread. Later. Hm, what was she going to do later? How was she going to explain this to her mother? Later was going to be nothing but, ‘Didn’t I tell you again the Brennans are bad news?’ Lesley refilled the glass shrugging.

  ‘So you started landscaping today instead of cleaning up? I probably would have too, rather than face the mess inside your house. But you should have worn a hat and sunscreen.’

  ‘No landscaping. I walked here from Dominic’s,’ she said before she gulped down the second tumbler of water.

  ‘You walked six and half miles without a hat in full afternoon summer sun?’ John leaned against the edge of the counter and looked her up and down. ‘That’s a pretty dumb thing to do with your fair complexion.’

  Lesley sighed. ‘You know you were right?’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Something goes wrong and I come to you.’

  ‘What happened now?’ John straightened.

  ‘The circus is still in town!’ she said with a grim laugh. ‘And true to my usual form, I’ve been dumped.’

  John’s hazel eyes opened wide. ‘Dominic dumped you? He asked you to marry him one day and dumped you the next?’

  Lesley nodded. ‘That’s right. Jump through a flaming hoop and you’re bound to get burned.’ She turned to the sink saying, ‘Now, for my next trick!’ and dunked her whole head under the rushing faucet. ‘Ta da!’ she stood up. Cold water ran down her back and coursed over her breasts. ‘So,’ she said, a pool forming around her feet, ‘until my windows are replaced, does your offer of a place to stay still stand?’

  It didn’t matter she’d made a lake on his hardwood floor. Humming the little tune that made people think of the circus, John stepped into the puddle and put his arms around her. ‘I’ll get you the spare key. Stay as long as you want.’ He hugged her.

  She pressed her nose to his chest. ‘I’m not crying.’

  ‘I know. This is for when the ugliness hits once you start.’

  Lesley snickered and leaned against him wetly. ‘You’re such a good friend.’

  ‘Thanks. Now I feel like crying.’

  Half an hour later, her clothes slightly damp, John dropped her off at the bottom of her driveway, just beside the weathered Last One Standing sign. She gazed at the sign for a moment then looked up at the house. Scaffolding replaced the overgrown flora that once covered the house, while plywood stood in for the new windows she’d installed. Streaks of black smoke stained the mission brown Fabian had scraped back and sanded. The broken screen door still hung twisted from one hinge. Looping, fluorescent spray-painted handwriting was still scrawled across front of the garage.

  How had she managed to kid herself into thinking buying the house had something to do with fate, with falling in love with Dominic? She’d been done in by avarice. Love, like flipping a property, was a game of chance that could pay off big, but she’d expected too much of this house, expected too much of Dominic. She risked her heart, offering her life, opening her soul to another man who drained her dry because she was greedy.

  With her seared skin beginning to feel tender, she walked up the incline and went inside to start the clean up. Yesterday, when things had still been rooted in Fantasyland, she’d taken a suitcase full of clothes and toiletries over to Dominic’s. Last night, he’d washed her garments, removing the smoky smell, and hung everything on his outside line. Then he’d stood with her in the bathroom and beamed as he watched her put deodorant, tampons, toothpaste and a toothbrush in his medicine cabinet. He’d made a space for her, not just in his bathroom, in his life. His smile had seemed so genuine. The love in his eyes had felt so honest.

  In five minutes, adoration changed to abhorrence. Once again, accountability had been laid at her feet. Love crumbled before her, the space Dominic had made in his heart collapsed, the weight of it pinned him down. Every hope, dream and thought of a future together was crushed beneath him.

  You stupid, stupid woman!

  Lesley was glad John wasn’t there because it wasn’t pretty. She stared down at the scorch mark in the middle of the living room and erupted into sobs. In seconds, she was moaning, hiccupping and wiping snot from her chin. The more she cried, the uglier she felt.

  Her insides twisted. Claws of pain of ripped across her heart and she wept for losing something she’d never had, for touching what would never be hers. It had been nothing more than fantasy, or blindness caused by lust. She was far too old to play make-believe, yet that’s exactly what she’d done. The dilapidated house had seemed like an overgrown fairytale. Somehow, during its transformation from ugly duckling to swan, she’d inserted Dominic into the story. He’d become the Prince.

  But when had there ever been a Prince in the Ugly Duckling?

  And since when had she wanted to be rescued?

  With that thought, she began to laugh like a drug-addled fool as anger took hold.

  How dare he!

  Where does he get off holding me culpable for his dirty little secret?

  What was I thinking? I can’t live here and a Brennan can’t change his spots!

  An instant later, she kicked over empty buckets and bottles of liquid soap meant for cleaning stains from the walls. Swearing in a way that would have impressed a stevedore, she tried to tear apart rags with her bare hands, but had to settle the ripping the plastic that had been wrapped around a double pack of paper towels. She levered off her boots and threw them at panes of plywood. A soot-covered power drill followed. The mop became a javelin that made it all the way down the hallway to the master bedroom.

  Then she’d had enough. Damn Dominic. She didn’t need him. She didn’t need his help, his companionship or his love. Her tears dried while she tidied up the mess she’d made. She gathered the shattered bits of her heart and stuffed them back inside, down deep, as far as they would go. She took a bucket into the kitchen and filled it with warm sudsy water. It was time to get back to work.

  Her shoulders ached hotly, her arms throbbed, her face felt baked and tight, but she began to scrub the walls. She and the house had been branded by fire. And now they were both the Last One Standing.

  And last ones standing had always been her specialty.

  Chapter 25

  Dominic stared at the pile of clean clothes that belonged to Lesley. They sat on top of the washing machine, neatly folded. Here were her things, tidy, small and organised and he had never felt more out of control.

  Those three and a half hours before Fabian called to say the boy had turned up at his place, had been the most agonising of Dominic’s entire life. Since Kyle had come home, he hadn’t uttered a word. He’d shut himself up in his bedroom with Clementine.

  Dominic glared at the fabric reminders of Lesley and wondered how someone so diminutive could cause such a colossal disaster. As he lifted the shirts and felt the material soft between his fingers, a shaft of pain, like an ice pick, jabbed at his heart.

  He could have handled this with a bit more finesse, a bit more composure instead of roaring at her lik
e Godzilla. Obviously, living his worst nightmare turned him into a prick, but what happened wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t her fault either. She hadn’t been able to put a muzzle on her surprise any more than he’d suppressed his fearful anger, and he knew as a result he’d come down on her pretty hard, harder than necessary.

  Jesus, he wanted to talk to her. He wanted to ask her advice, ask for reassurance, curl around her and let the warmth of her soul soothe the open wound in his heart. Tenderness, shame and regret battled alongside his desire to try to make things right for Kyle. He owed Lesley an apology but, for now, Kyle had to come first.

  With Lesley’s clean clothes in hand, Dominic padded into the kitchen. He took a paper grocery bag from the bottom of the pantry, stuffed everything inside, and tossed it on the counter top to give to her later. Then he jerked open the fridge, grabbed the orange juice and drank straight from the carton.

  ‘Can’t sleep, huh, Dad?’

  Those few words were a spray of analgesic on the razor cuts he felt inside his chest. Dominic swallowed before he turned around to face Kyle. ‘Yeah. I’ve been up for a while.’

  ‘Me, too.’ The kid sat at the table, Clementine on his lap, his eyes focused on the puppy’s pointy ears. ‘I’m keeping the car.’

  Dominic said it without thinking, ‘OK.’

  ‘I don’t care what you say—wait a second.’ Kyle’s head popped up. ‘Did you say OK?’

  No, it’s not OK, and you know it, but if it works, if he’s talking to you then shut up and let him have it. ‘Yeah. I said OK.’

  ‘You’re not going to fight me on this?’

  Dominic put the juice on the table beside the boy. ‘What good would that do either of us?’ He pulled out a chair and sat with a heavy sigh.

  ‘Trying to buy me, huh?’

  Yes. ‘No. You don’t have enough experience. You need more driving experience before you get into something with that much power.’