For Sale By Owner

by Marlene Bateman

  “He was ten years old, Mom. I probably told him my last name once, but we didn’t get into last names. He called me Izzy, and I called him Tyrone.”

  Elaine looked at her intently. “When are you going to tell him you’re Izzy?”

  “I’m not sure I will. Besides, what would be the point—with him being so upset at me?”

  “I suppose, but he might like to know.” Elaine peeked over at Sara, who was giggling at something in the movie. “I know you said Jared wouldn’t listen to you about the Perezes, but you ought to try again. Surely he wouldn’t stay angry if you could explain it to him.”

  “I’ve tried, and he’s not interested. I don’t know what else I can do.” Still, Kenzie had never been one to sit back. And ever since she’d talked with Mandy, she’d been trying to come up with a plan of action. Her first idea, trying to talk Tracy into seeing Jared’s house again, certainly hadn’t worked out.

  “I’m sure you’ll do what’s best,” Elaine said, going back to her crocheting. “Just make sure you think things through first.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Allen had been shopping all morning, and so far the aversion he felt toward walking around stores had only increased. Elaine had told him a hundred times not to try to do all his shopping in one outing, but spreading it out was the equivalent of slowly peeling off a Band-Aid. Far better to rip it off with one swift yank. The pain might be momentarily greater, but at least it didn’t last as long.

  Besides, he usually had very little shopping to do—Elaine did most of it. Unfortunately, today she’d given him a list—a long one. Good thing she knew him well enough to write down what stores would be most likely to carry the things she wanted.

  Whenever Allen got bogged down with purchases, he headed to the car and threw them in the trunk before starting off again—feet dragging. To passersby, Allen probably looked like a man heading for the gallows.

  After a wearisome morning, he was back at the car with more sacks. Once he stowed them away, Allen checked his list. Only a few things left. The most important one was a thing called a natural light lamp. Elaine had once mentioned wanting one when she was having a hard time seeing when crocheting at night. Allen wrote that tidbit down on a little piece of paper he kept in his wallet—a record he kept whenever Elaine happened to mention something she liked or wanted. Elaine was amazed on birthdays, anniversaries, and at Christmas. She always complimented him on his phenomenal memory but wondered why he could never remember where he’d left his glasses. Allen never felt the need to explain that his memory was as long as the paper it was written on.

  He looked up and down the sidewalk. What store would be likely to have such a lamp? What he needed was a phone book—a good, old-fashioned phone book. Tom had shown him how to look things up on his cell phone, but he preferred the real deal of a phone book he could heft in his hand. He could stop by Tom’s office—his son could look it up on that fancy phone of his. However, his stomach had been rumbling for some time. He’d best get some lunch before his stomach decided his throat had been slit.

  Heading down the sidewalk, Allen thought he saw a familiar figure cross the street. He made it to the intersection just as the pedestrian light began to blink a stop, but he hurried on even though it made his hip hurt.

  The woman sure looked like Kenzie. Man, she was some fast walker—even with her head down. What was she thinking? It was lucky she hadn’t plowed into somebody and knocked them flat.

  When Allen judged he was close enough for her to hear, he bellowed, “Kenzie!”

  The woman turned, and Allen was awfully glad it was Kenzie. He’d look like a proper fool if it had turned out to be some other slim, tall woman with honey-blonde hair.

  When he caught up, Kenzie asked, “What are you doing here?”

  “Christmas shopping.”

  “But it’s not Christmas Eve.”

  “Close enough.” Maybe Kenzie could tell him where to find one of those strange lights, but first he asked, “Where’s Sara?”

  “Home with Mom. She promised to let Sara help her make Thumbprint Cookies.5”

  “How’s she going to do that lying down?”

  “Mom’s going to mix the dough and take it over to Sara so she can roll it into balls and put her thumbprint in them.”

  “Ah.” Allen watched her. “I was going to get something to eat. Want to come?”

  She hesitated, and for a moment Allen thought she might politely decline. It wouldn’t surprise him. Ever since she’d arrived, Kenzie had avoided being alone with him.

  “Sure. Where do you want to go?”

  “I wanted a hamburger. How about The Grille?”

  She agreed. When they arrived, the hostess walked them through the rustic restaurant with its exposed beams and sports paraphernalia plastered on the walls. After seating them at a booth, she handed them laminated menus. Allen folded his coat and laid it on the bench beside him. When she came back with glasses of water, he was ready to order. He wanted one of those quarter-pound burgers with bacon—the kind his wife never let him order when they were together. Kenzie ordered a grilled chicken salad.

  After the waitress took their orders and bustled off, an uneasy silence fell. Allen searched for something to say that would get past the prickles he felt bristling from his daughter. But how did one talk to a porcupine? Wait, her work. Kenzie loved to talk about her job. He opened his mouth to ask her a question but remembered just in time that she wasn’t at Midwest anymore and she hadn’t started her new job. Great. Allen drank almost a full glass of water before he came up with something really brilliant. “How about the weather? Pretty cold, huh?”

  “Yes. It’s been real—cold.”

  Maybe he could talk about shopping. Women liked that. “I’ve been shopping all morning.”

  Kenzie blinked. “You don’t have any sacks.”

  “I took them back to the car. Didn’t want to carry them around and bump into people.”

  “The stores wouldn’t be so crowded if you shopped earlier.”

  “And deprive your mother of the pleasure she gets from telling everyone that I wait till the last minute? Never.”

  More sips of water. He was water logged. Would the waitress never come? He started to drum his fingers on the table then remembered how it annoyed Elaine. Presumably, it would also irritate his daughter. He snatched his hand away.

  Kenzie made a few comments about Tom and the upcoming party at the house on Saturday. He added what he could, and in between they darted looks at each other and watched passing waitresses and customers as if they were the most fascinating people in the world.

  Finally the waitress brought their food. Allen squirted a mound of ketchup on his plate and dipped in some fries. He tried another line of conversation. “Your mother tells me you’re going to get Tom’s house after all.”

  “I guess. Jared still has two days though.” Kenzie’s voice had been lackluster but suddenly took on a little fire. “You look like you disapprove.”

  He did but was surprised it showed on his face. “Doesn’t matter what I think. You wanted the house. Your mom said it had a lot of sentimental value to you, but I imagine it meant a lot to Jared too.” He dipped a trio of fries in ketchup. “You could have bought any home you wanted. You didn’t need to run down Jared’s house to those people.”

  When Kenzie set her fork down very deliberately, Allen knew he’d said the wrong thing. “I’m sorry, Kenzie. I didn’t mean it like that. Your mother told me all about your talk yesterday, and it sounded like you hadn’t discussed his house as much as you talked about how much trouble older homes were to remodel. And you’ve got a point there. It can be a pain in the, uh, wallet. It’s up to people to decide for themselves what they want to do.” Then, in case he hadn’t made things perfectly clear, he added, “Besides it’s not your fault his house hasn’t sold.”

  Kenzie opened her mouth, then closed it, dropping her gaze to her plate. He plowed on. “Look, Kenzie, I’ve wanted to
talk with you for a long time, but each time you shy away. I say this with all the love in the world, but sometimes talking with you is like trying to talk to a clam.”

  Another mistake. His daughter stared at him with an icy expression and pursed lips. Not good.

  Allen tried again. “I know you’ve been angry with me.”

  “Oh, do you?” Kenzie shot out. “I don’t remember you ever mentioning it before.”

  “No need. Your actions showed it plain enough.” Allen stared at her steadfastly. “You said the other day that I’d made some horrible accusations. That was back about the time when you had decided to get a divorce. Can you tell me what I said that hurt you so much?”

  Kenzie’s eyes about goggled out of their sockets. For a moment he wondered if she might get up and stalk off. But no, she finally squared her shoulders as if determined to forge ahead. He struggled to figure out that expression on her face. It looked like a cross between pain and shock, but then what did he know?

  “You can’t be serious,” Kenzie said in apparent disbelief. When he didn’t reply, she pressed, “You honestly don’t know? You said horrible things—things that tore me apart—you can’t possibly not remember! How can saying such terrible things not even register with you?”

  The force of her word pushed him back in his seat. Allen tried to stir his dim memory, but there was nothing. He must have said something monstrous—but what?

  His daughter shook her head as if to clear it. Then she mumbled as if speaking to herself. “I’ve been so angry and upset for two years, and you don’t even remember what you said? Unbelievable.”

  He was about to point out that Kenzie being angry and upset was her own doing, but he stopped, warned by Kenzie’s slitted eyes and the uplifted line of her chin. Allen clamped his mouth shut. He had to tread lightly. One more wrong word, and Kenzie would go flying off. Obviously, she’d built whatever he’d said into the mother of all insults. “I’m a great one for putting my foot in my mouth. Your mother has told me more than once that I ought to have my tongue cut out.”

  His jest was not well received. In fact, Allen was glad Kenzie hadn’t ordered a steak, or else she might have used her steak knife to carry out her mother’s wishes.

  Kenzie glared stonily at him. “You really don’t remember what you said? We talked the day after I told you I was getting a divorce, the morning Mom went to the grocery store.”

  Allen knew she was waiting for an explanation that would make sense of it all, but he had to be careful. If he answered no, Kenzie could unburden herself—get it out of her system. But he mustn’t be too vigorous in saying he didn’t remember because clearly his lack of recall cut her to the core.

  “I said a lot of things,” he admitted. “As to which hurt you the most, I can’t say.” Which was true. Even though he couldn’t even remember what he’d said, he did recall telling Elaine about it after she’d come home. His wife had hurled abuse at him for days.

  What a mess he’d made. It all started when Kenzie and Sara had arrived for an unexpected and unannounced visit. Something was up—he could tell from Kenzie’s red eyes and how she deflected questions about Larry. But it wasn’t until Sara went to bed that Kenzie had revealed what was going on.

  The three of them sat in the family room. Allen recalled how Elaine’s hands tied themselves into a knot when Kenzie told them she and Larry were getting a divorce. As for himself, he’d gone numb with shock. He’d liked Larry from the first time Kenzie had brought him home. Easy to get along with, always up to going fishing, and didn’t have to fill every moment with conversation. Larry had been the ideal son-in-law—friendly, willing to help clean out the gutters, and knowledgeable about the Chicago Bears. He and Kenzie always seemed happy. The reasons Kenzie gave for their divorce were vague at best, and Allen spent hours that night staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out what could have gone wrong as Elaine sniffled beside him.

  The next morning, he’d played croquet with Sara. Later, when she went to play with friends, the only way Allen could hold anxiety at bay was to keep busy, so he started pruning the forsythia. He was half done when Kenzie came outside. For some reason, he could still see her as she’d been that day, a bright harbinger of spring in her bright yellow blouse, dangling white earrings, and long hair blowing about in the breeze.

  Setting his pruners aside, he went with her and sat in the lawn swing. Shaded by a beech tree, they talked, although now Allen couldn’t remember now exactly what had been said except for the part about Larry refusing to see a marriage counselor. What Allen did recall was how badly he’d wanted to fix things for his daughter. He was used to taking care of and mending whatever was broken—it was part of his job description as a father. He’d repaired the rim on Kenzie’s bicycle when it got bent, the swing set when the chain broke, and the wheel when it came off her scooter.

  But this. This was far beyond his capabilities and doubly out of his area of expertise. Give him a wrench, saw, and screwdriver, and he could work miracles. But relationships? He was either putting his foot in his mouth or trying to pull it out. No, Allen couldn’t repair his daughter’s broken marriage—no matter how much he wanted to.

  Coming back to the present, Allen’s eyes were troubled as he peered at Kenzie. It was probably best to let her tell him which of his unfortunate statements she’d glommed on to this time. Oh, things were bound to have become twisted over the years. They usually did. But really, did that matter? Not as long as Kenzie got out what had been bothering her for so long.

  Allen kept his voice soft and low. “Why don’t you tell me what you remember?”

  Taking a very deep breath, Kenzie began. Her voice was shaking a little, like her words had been boiling inside for a long time—which they had. There was also a mechanical note there as if she were repeating a speech she’d memorized long ago. At times, she spoke in little gasps as if she were having trouble getting enough air. He listened carefully, letting her talk without comment, and finally she got down to the core of it.

  “When I told you Larry and I were getting a divorce, you blamed me for the divorce. One hundred percent.”

  With a jerk, Allen sat up straight. He’d thought himself prepared, but this took him off guard. He couldn’t let this out-and-out fabrication pass. “I never blamed you!” Allen declared with some heat. “Where did you get that fool idea?”

  “From you!” The anger and bitterness in her voice startled him as well as a passing waitress who glanced at them in alarm. “When I told you we were getting a divorce, you asked if I was working too many hours and said I must not have been giving Larry the attention he needed.”

  “I said that?” Allen was reeling.

  “Your implication was clear. You thought I’d neglected him and that if I’d been a better wife, Larry wouldn’t have left me. You felt the divorce was all my fault.” Kenzie spoke in a very precise voice. Her eyes were like ice chips, and her lips trembled. She wasn’t done, and Allen’s stomach twisted, wondering what she had left unsaid. Kenzie paused, caught in the grips of some strong emotion. Then she whispered, “You told me I could have something done to keep him and that a man doesn’t leave unless there’s a reason.”

  The pain in his daughter’s eyes was like a shot to his chest. Kenzie’s face was white, and she fell silent. Allen looked down at the burger nestled alongside golden fries and swept the plate aside, putting his elbows on the table and his face in his hands.

  No wonder Kenzie hadn’t come back for visits. No wonder she could barely stand to talk to him these past years. Had he really said such things? Ah, if only the tongue had an eraser on the end of it like a pencil.

  In light of what he’d figured out later about Larry, it was easy to comprehend why Kenzie had been so outraged. The only trouble was—Allen couldn’t remember saying those words. But he must have. Her memory seemed crystal clear. Allen lowered his hands. Cleared his throat. “I don’t remember saying or even thinking that it was your fault. I wish I could say you m
isunderstood, but since it’s so clear in your mind, all I can say is I’m sorry. Divorce is never just one person’s fault unless—” He stopped in the nick of time. He’d almost said, “Unless one of them is having an affair.” But he couldn’t say that because Kenzie hadn’t wanted him to know. He had to keep up the pretense that he was still clueless, although he’d eventually figured it out even though Elaine hadn’t told him.

  Their waitress approached but must have seen the tension on their faces, for she turned and scurried off.

  Then, miraculously, a piece of the conversation came back to him. “I remember saying that you two needed to work to make your relationship better and that it might help if you were more patient and understanding. I didn’t mean to blame you—I was only trying to come up with something that might help.”

  “You were trying to help by focusing on what you thought I’d done wrong.” Kenzie spoke with tight-lipped disdain.

  “That’s because you were the only one there. I was trying to figure out what you could do to make things better. If Larry had been there, I would have done the same thing—try to figure out what he could do to make things right!”

  “Nothing I did or didn’t do would have made any difference. Larry had already decided to leave.”

  In the ensuing weeks, months, and years after Kenzie had hightailed it back home, Allen began to suspect that Mandy, Tom, and Elaine were hiding something from him. Allen wasn’t an intuitive man. In fact, he was abysmally slow at picking up on things, but gradually he began piecing together bits of conversation until his suspicions crystallized and he realized that Larry had had an affair. But Allen continued to feign ignorance since it was clear Kenzie wanted him left in ignorance. But at times, it was hard knowing his own family left him out of the loop. Still, Allen accepted it and said nothing because in some cosmic way, it seemed no less than he deserved for hurting his daughter that day. But it was time for the truth to come out.