by Brandon Witt
An hour. He’d just carry more crap down from Casper’s level for an hour. His moms were meeting him to help pack his apartment at seven, so he had a bit of time.
As he unlocked the doors of the brownstone, the evening winter breeze brought the smell of the Atlantic. It caught him by surprise, and he breathed deep, taking in the muggy saltiness. Kevin let out a contented sigh. He couldn’t fathom people who didn’t live by the ocean. It made absolutely no sense.
That peaceful feeling evaporated when he started to push open the door and prepared himself for the god-awful mess. He paused before he’d opened the entrance more than a couple of inches.
Be proactive. He felt in his pocket, retrieved a Xanax, bit it in half, and shoved the unused portion back into his jeans.
Half should do it. He was prepared.
He could do this.
His mind full of positive self-talk and his blood soon to be filled with calming chemicals, Kevin pushed open the door the rest of the way and stepped inside. He blanched.
They’d been robbed!
No. Wait. That didn’t make sense. There was nothing to rob.
Kevin stared around the room, his jaw agape. There was no trash. Not one speck. The room was empty, save for dust, judging from the footprints everywhere.
Barely allowing himself to believe, he darted across the room and rushed up the stairs.
He nearly cried when he got to the top. It was gone. All of it. All the slowly rotting furniture, the oven, the fridge from hoarder’s hell. All that was left was the electrical and water hookups jutting from the floor and walls.
It was too much. Wonderfully too much.
Kevin walked over the space, really able to see it for the first time. With all the crap gone, he realized the ceilings were taller than normal on this floor as well. Nothing compared to the double level downstairs, but still. A nearly crazed, childlike laugh of glee escaped him. At the sound he covered his mouth, but couldn’t suppress the giggles. He could see Casper’s bakery up here; he could almost smell the cakes baking. For once that thought didn’t cause a panic.
The brownstone was going to be gorgeous. He’d almost not believed it since the first time he’d walked through. The trash and crap everywhere had become too overwhelming.
He leaned against the wall, too relieved to do much more than bask in the empty space. Even the prospect of cleaning seemed more exciting suddenly, like dusting off a filthy diamond. Or watching a homely girl getting a makeover and discovering how beautiful she actually was. Kevin laughed at himself. He’d seen every episode of What Not to Wear. He missed that show.
As he straightened, another thought pushed him into action. He was willing to bet…. If Casper had all this done, he didn’t seem the type to do it halfway. A fact that made Kevin trust Casper before he could claim he really knew him.
Kevin hoped Casper had done it all the way. This time he moved slower up the steps, afraid he was going to be disappointed. Stupid really. He wasn’t planning on doing anything with the space, but he so wanted to be right about Casper. It suddenly felt immensely important.
Arriving at the top, he didn’t pause, but pushed open the door to the small apartment.
This time a tear slid down his cheek, which he barely noticed. Casper was the man Kevin’s gut had told him Casper was. Thorough.
Like the levels below, it was empty. Not even a candy bar wrapper anywhere. Kevin stepped inside, finally able to get a real look at the apartment. There was no trash, but except for the wall of windows, the space still didn’t look like it would ever be as beautiful as the rest of the brownstone.
However, he couldn’t care less.
It was done. All of it was done.
Relaxation rushed through his body. A rare sensation. A very different one than the type offered by the Xanax.
He couldn’t imagine how Casper had gotten a crew to come out in less than a day, much less how much he’d probably paid. Whatever it had been, though he was surprised to think so, it had been worth it.
Kevin tried to call Casper, but it went to voice mail. He was glad, because if Casper had answered, he probably really would have cried. He left a message.
He was nearly back to his apartment when Casper texted. Unable to wait, he glanced at it while driving.
You’re more than welcome. I thought we needed to start with a clean slate.
A few moments later, another chime sounded in his car.
Did you check the crawl space? I had them clear it out too.
Kevin thought he might be in love.
“DEAR GOD, Kevin! I can’t believe you lived like this!”
Kevin managed to not say anything back. She was helping him, after all. Still, that had to be the fifth time his mother had uttered those two sentences in the hour and a half.
From where he perched on top of the kitchen counter emptying cabinets, he could hear Noelle scolding her wife. “They’re just blinds, Renata. Not everyone cleans them weekly like you.”
“Well, I thought I taught him better.” She raised her voice, as if he couldn’t hear her before. “I hope you keep your old room in better shape, Kevin. It’s not good to live in squalor. Not to mention your new shop!”
Even from his removed position, he could hear the two women begin to bicker in hushed tones. He honestly didn’t know why Noelle even tried to talk sense anymore.
Squalor, his ass. All his coworkers made fun of what a neat freak he was, going so far as to slightly turn a vase or picture frame when they came into his office to see how long it would take him to notice.
It never took very long, thank you very much.
Despite Renata’s constant state of shock at her son’s ability to live in a trash heap, the three of them had made a huge dent in all that needed done in the apartment. Granted, the apartment was small. It was the first place he’d rented after the divorce. He’d been stressed and depressed. The apartment was new, clean, and bright, and that was all he’d cared about. And the small square footage had made the place feel safe and secure, something he’d desperately needed. He’d painted every room in rich, calming tones and made it his own.
Oh, he’d forgotten. He was supposed to paint them all back to white when he moved out. Ah, fuck it. They could keep his deposit.
After a few minutes, Noelle padded into the kitchen, wearing her new flannel Christmas pajamas. Kevin had no idea how she wasn’t burning up with all the work they were doing. “You doing okay in here, hon?”
Sweet Noelle. He smiled at her reassuringly. “Of course, Noelle. I have met my mom before, you know.”
“I know, but still. She’s just so stressed with all the change.” She rushed on as if she’d made a mistake. “Not that she’s not excited about it or in support.”
“Oh, of course. I’m certain she’s fully on board by now.” He snorted. “She’s still not over when I pierced my ears. And those have been grown shut for nearly fifteen years.”
“You look handsome either way.” She winked at him. “However, I did happen to agree with Renata on those. Diamonds are a bit much unless you’re a rapper.”
“They were Uncle Tony’s idea.”
“Surely you know by now he suggested that just to drive your mom crazy.”
“Yeah. I do.” He lifted a heavy glass pitcher that he never used from the back of the cabinet. “Here, would you mind taking this for me? I’ll break it if I try to get down with it in my hands.”
“Of course, love.” Noelle took the pitcher, set it on the opposite counter, and then lifted a hand to help Kevin down.
“Speaking of, do you think Tony and Rick will work things out?”
Noelle shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. I think Rick has agreed to counseling, but Tony is so angry. It may be too little, too late. Though I hope not.”
Renata called out again from the other room, her tone half-playful, half-serious. “I can’t hear what you’re saying, but I know you two are gossiping about me. Knock it off. It’s rude.”
&
nbsp; Kevin and Noelle grinned conspiratorially at each other, and Kevin raised his voice again. “Actually, Mom, we’ve moved on to more current events.”
It only took a moment before Renata rounded the corner, a glass of Chianti in her hands. “Then that means you’re talking about Tony. And that’s not all right either, unless I’m included.”
Kevin couldn’t help but laugh. Lord, she drove him batshit. It would really help if he wasn’t exactly like her. Thank God for Noelle, or the two of them would kill each other.
Renata took a sip of her wine, savored, then spoke again. “I talked to Tony this afternoon. He thinks they are going to have to sell their house. And even that won’t clear all of Rick’s debts. They’ll probably have to declare bankruptcy. Can you imagine? Having to start all over again with nothing?”
“Those poor men.”
“Those poor men? Seriously, Noelle! Don’t you waste a moment feeling sorry for Rick.” Renata lifted a condemning finger. “He brought this on himself and is taking my brother, the man he claimed to love, down with him.”
Noelle made another attempt, and once more Kevin wondered why she tried. Love sure made a person do crazy things. “Rick is part of our family too, dear. We need to support them both.”
“Well, I don’t think—”
The door chime cut Renata’s rant short.
Saved by the bell.
Kevin was nearly to the door when he realized who was waiting on the other side. Suddenly he wished he could run into the living room and remind his mom how long it had been since he’d dusted the blinds.
Well, bring on the shit storm.
He undid the dead bolt.
Kevin tried to give a warning when he opened the door, but Scott was too fast for him, giving him a quick kiss on his lips and then stooping to give him a hug.
He paused before his arms were fully around Kevin. “Oh.”
Kevin turned awkwardly and saw both his moms staring at them, matching shocked expressions covering their faces. He stepped away as Scott straightened.
For a second, Scott attempted to hide the solitary rose and wine bottle he’d brought behind his back. Then he seemed to think better of it and handed them to Kevin, then gave a forced smile to the staring ladies in the hall. “Hi, Renata, Noelle. It’s been a while. How’ve you been?”
“Uh-huh.” Renata was never at a loss for words, and the fact that she seemed to be experiencing that sensation scared Kevin to death.
Noelle fared better, though her tone was colder than her usual. “We’re good. How are you, Scott?”
His smile transitioned to something a little more real. “Great! I’m really excited about Kevin’s new adventure.”
Something clicked in Renata’s eyes as she looked back and forth between Kevin and Scott, her gaze finally resting on her son. “I see you got something else while working on the loan details.”
Kevin stammered, at a loss for words himself. “Mom, I… ah….”
“I think we should go.” Renata turned and disappeared into the living room.
Scott watched her and then turned to Kevin. “Sorry. I should have called. I’ll leave.”
“Probably for the best.”
“Text me later?”
Kevin nodded.
Scott was already gone when Renata reentered the hall and handed Noelle her coat. She looked at Kevin and the empty space by the door. “You may as well call him back. I’m fairly certain you don’t want me here right now. And I don’t want to say something I’ll regret.”
Again, the lack of yelling made Kevin’s blood run cold.
Renata marched past Kevin, opened the door, and exited.
Noelle hesitated, then followed her wife, pausing to kiss Kevin on the cheek. “We love you, dear. Your mom too. It’s just a bit of a shock.”
“I know. I should have warned you. I didn’t know he was coming over.”
She grimaced. “I doubt that would have helped much. Warning or no warning, it’s still Scott.”
Noelle rarely spoke ill of anyone, though Kevin knew she wasn’t a fan of his ex-husband. “Come on, Noelle, people cheat. It happens sometimes. It doesn’t mean they’ll do it again. I really think he regrets that we got divorced.”
“I’m sure he does. He’d be a fool not to.” She placed her hand on Kevin’s cheek and stroked it with her thumb. “And it’s not the cheating, Kev. Or if he’s changed or not. He’s Scott.” She paused, apparently searching for the right words. “He doesn’t bring you peace.”
Renata popped her head back into the doorway, her voice sharp. “Are you coming, Noelle?”
Noelle stroked Kevin’s cheek for another second and then left.
Kevin stared at the door, rather numb from watching his moms leave.
He managed to continue packing up the apartment for about twenty more minutes before he texted Scott and told him to come over.
CASPER
HE WOULD have placed money on it being a shrill, off-tune whistle. Maybe the drumming of fingers, but he figured it would have been one of the music majors whistling that finally turned him into a murderer. It wasn’t either. It was the kitchen counter being covered by a fine dusting of coffee grounds. And it didn’t actually turn him into a murderer, but Casper did look longingly at the knife block. He could lean over and pluck one out. He even knew which one he would use. The six-inch serrated utility knife. He wouldn’t need anything massive—his rage would suffice.
All he wanted was to cook a goddamned breakfast without any whistling, drumming, or clacking in the background and to not have coffee grounds left behind by one of the conductor/barista extraordinaire wannabes.
With a longing look at the knife block, Casper pushed himself away from the kitchen counter and stomped back up the steps to his room before the visions in his head covered the walls.
When had he become so angry? He’d worked with some of the most egotistical, sadomasochistic chefs in the city. He’d been screamed at, cursed out, and belittled, and never uttered a word besides, “Yes, Chef.” It was what you did as you clawed your way up the culinary ladder. It hadn’t been fun, but it hadn’t been that hard either. Not for him. Casper—easygoing, laid-back, friendly. He could almost be a hippie, for fuck’s sake.
Until living in hell disguised as the home of musical doctorate students.
Casper pulled out his phone to text Kevin, then thought better of it. The past three weeks had been stressful enough for Kevin—he looked like he was about to crack. Casper let the phone fall back into his pocket. What Kevin didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. Or stress him out.
Digging through his closet, he finally found his old sleeping bag under a pile of other crap. He pulled it out, snatched the pillow off his bed, and exited his room. When he was halfway down the stairs, a keyboard began to clank away from one of the upper rooms.
Casper ran. Literally ran down the stairs, nearly smashing into the front door as he threw it open.
He slammed the red door shut behind him, took a few steps, then lifted the pillow and sleeping bag in the air and shouted for joy at the top of his lungs.
The few people milling about on the sidewalk all stared at him like he was insane. Like maybe they could see the thoughts he’d been having a few short minutes ago. Casper didn’t care. He did notice a pause in the clanking scales of the keyboard.
He let out a sigh.
The clanking began again.
It didn’t matter. Casper headed toward his car.
He could come back to shower and cook meals and change clothes.
He was free.
Actually, he’d shower at the gym and eat out. He’d only use the place for storage.
Casper stored the sleeping bag and pillow against the far wall of the brownstone’s apartment. He doubted Kevin would wander up there anyway, and maybe he wouldn’t care, but Casper would rather cross that bridge later. For now, just knowing there were no more music students around was all he really needed.
THE FIRST three week
s in January hadn’t gone how he and Kevin had expected. Casper had envisioned already having some counters installed, or at least ordered. Maybe having a couple of industrial-sized ovens on their way.
Not so much.
There were umpteen billion permits to pull, paperwork to submit to the historical society, business and food handler licenses to file.
He’d known about them, at least some of them, but he’d never thought about it taking so long. Sure, in theory you filled out a form or met some requirements. Simple and done.
However, nothing was simple or done.
Every single step he and Kevin had taken had found a glitch.
The website was down.
They’d filled out form C, and they were supposed to fill out form D. Oh, and form B.
The person who reviewed requests from the historical society had a death in the family and would be out for a week. Yes, they had someone covering their duties, but they were overwhelmed with the added workload.
Appointments with contractors and inspectors were never on time, if they showed at all. There seemed to be a monopoly on the market, as none of them were in a hurry to fulfill their commitments. Nor did they seem worried that their lack of professionalism would cost them a job. If every one of them showed up late and in a bad mood, then none of them were in danger of losing a bid.
However, they had gotten one thing done.
For four solid days, they cleaned. Sometimes with both of Kevin’s moms joining them. They even dusted the crawl space and the apartment, though they didn’t intend to use either for the foreseeable future. Casper managed to hide his sleeping bag and pillow in his car before the others noticed.
It didn’t matter if they were going to have to tear up some of the wall or flooring during construction. Kevin and Renata insisted everything must be clean and spotless first.
