I flipped through the pages I’d printed and saw several places not too far from here.
Did I really want a house, though? Maybe I should venture south to the Valley and find an apartment. But then I’d have an extra twenty minutes to and from work every day.
I was a bit spoiled in that area. Many around here commuted between our town and Seattle, approximately two hours south of Camassia. Even Vancouver was closer than Seattle. And here I was, reluctant to commute between two neighborhoods in the same town.
I sipped my coffee and stopped at a familiar house that needed some work. Or a lot of it. It was nearby, on the other side of the playground behind my street.
I had over two months off starting tomorrow…
I’d seen this listing months ago, and I was sure it’d been set at a higher price back then. Hmm. Two bedrooms upstairs. Everything had to be repainted; new floors needed to be installed. The kitchen was severely outdated, as were both bathrooms. But so what? I could fix it up, couldn’t I? It was within my budget, and I’d get to stay close to the marina.
Most people wanted something that was perfectly restored. Free of cracks and dents.
I chose to see the potential in things that were broken.
They just needed some care.
This one might actually result in a profit in the end too. The house was on a good street, in a good school district, and it had the same theme as the rest of this part of town. Victorian, older, idyllic. When all was said and done, it could look much like my current house—only smaller. We had four bedrooms here, which weren’t necessary. Four bedrooms belonged to couples with dreams of future children, and I hadn’t been one of those people in a long time.
If ever. Not with her.
In retrospect, I knew I’d set up goals within my marriage that would make me look normal. I’d wanted things that allowed me to blend in and be one of the many. I’d aimed to have what I’d grown up wishing for.
I decided to check out the run-down house tomorrow.
Taking another swig of my coffee, I replaced the listings with the paper—only to remember I didn’t have to go through the headlines today. I had a graduation ceremony to attend, no classes. I wouldn’t be peering into the dead eyes of new seniors until August.
The only students I enjoyed teaching were the AP students and the underprivileged kids the academy recruited from Camas High. Which was the first school I’d taught at, however briefly. Camas was a low-income neighborhood adjacent to Downtown, just ten minutes south of here, and it was where I’d grown up. A place I didn’t like returning to. Too many memories.
“Oh hi, Mister!”
Jesus. I almost spilled my coffee, and my heart jumped.
As I refolded the paper and set down my coffee, I cast a glance toward the fence just as Pipsqueak left her front yard and headed to mine. She offered a sleepy grin while she opened the gate to my yard.
“You’re up early,” she noted.
I couldn’t say I was pleased with the interruption, but I wasn’t going to be an ass to Darius’s little sister. She wasn’t more than twelve.
“So are you.”
She scratched her messy bed head and plopped down next to me. She was wearing My Little Pony PJs.
“It’s too hot to sleep in my room.” She shrugged. “Dad’s gonna fix my ceiling fan this weekend.”
“Nice.” I side-eyed her, wondering if she was here to stay. I actually didn’t mind her—or her sister, who was a year older. They were both autistic, and I could always count on them for honesty. Sometimes, it was wrapped up in a brick and delivered straight into my face, but hey.
“You look old today,” she said, scrunching her nose.
Kind of like that.
“Thanks.” I frowned to myself and lifted my mug again.
She just sat there and looked out over my yard, drumming her fingers along her knees.
She visited sometimes, randomly like this, so I wasn’t unfamiliar with her quirks. There were also the times her folks invited me over for dinner. The Quinns had half adopted me over the years, starting when I’d met Jake in college. He was quite a few years older than me and had been in the middle of switching career paths. He’d wanted to teach too, but then 9/11 changed everything, and he enlisted in the Army. Then I’d happened to move in next door to their folks, and I’d met the rest of the loud, crazy family.
“Should we chitchat?” Pipsqueak asked curiously.
My mouth twitched. “Do you have something to say?”
She lifted a shoulder. “I didn’t prepare anything.”
Well, then.
Actually, I had a question of my own. “Do you have summer school this year?”
She shook her head. “Willow does, though.” That was her sister. Willow was nonverbal around strangers, so I was pleased to hear she would be attending classes. It was all in preparation for the coming semester, essentially helping her keep her anxiety at bay. Neither one of them was behind in any way, but they required some extra easing into new things. “She thinks her teacher sucks,” she added.
“Your sister thinks everyone sucks.”
Pipsqueak snickered. “She does. But she gets new teachers after the summer. Maybe they will be better.”
Holy shit, already? Christ. She was right. Willow was starting high school this fall. That was nuts.
I felt old.
“Are you coming over on Saturday?” she asked next. “We’re going to move my birthday party so Jake can be there.”
I inclined my head. “Darius invited me.” Though, I hadn’t known it would be a birthday shindig. I thought we were just having dinner to see Jake off.
“Good! I’m becoming a teenager. I’m ready, I think.” Then she peered down into her pajama top, causing my eyebrows to lift. “I hope I get boobs soon.”
I coughed and drank from my coffee. Okay, I didn’t mind talking to her, but I wasn’t equipped to handle any coming-of-age topics. Besides, she shouldn’t be in a hurry. When girls became women, they lost their innocence and turned into manipulative bitches.
“Savor your childhood, Pipsqueak. You’ll never get it back.”
She made a noise. “You can’t call me that anymore. I’m starting seventh grade soon! It’s Elise.”
I barely refrained from rolling my eyes.
She’d been Pipsqueak since the first day Jake introduced me to his family. She’d hidden behind her father at first, then tentatively approached and stuck her hand out for me to shake, and she’d chirped, “Hello, Mister-Jake’s-friend-Avery.”
I didn’t know what aged me ten years that day, the graduation ceremony and all the chirpy WASPs, or the night out with Darius and Jake.
Either way, I woke up on Saturday morning feeling like shit. With the hangover from hell, I stumbled down the stairs and wondered if Angie was around. She was sleeping in the guest room lately, which was empty now, and I had alternated between our bedroom and the living room couch, depending on my mood.
I came to a stop in the hallway before I could enter the kitchen.
Something was missing.
Angie’s three graduation photos from the wall were gone.
Then I peered into the living room and furrowed my brow.
Seriously?
The shelves where we’d had all the DVDs were empty. Most of the pictures were missing, aside from a few that were shattered on the floor. Knickknacks, gone. Her ugly old afghan was gone from the couch. TV was still there. So was my PlayStation.