Here, Home, Hope

by Kaira Rouda

  Maybe all the naysayers were trying to keep new people out of the business? One home stager complained that home staging was mostly free work and there were too many people trying to do it. She wrote that she spent most of her time educating clients and the real estate community about what the value of home staging was: to sell houses faster, for top dollar. Well, that part I understood. And she ended her little tirade by telling whoever was reading her blog—that would be me at that moment—to pick another field.

  I finally decided that no matter how many scary or negative articles and opinions I read, I could do this and that I would give it a try. With that, I closed my laptop and went to get ready for my appointment with Dr. Weiskopf.

  “I think my bathtub is nearly filled back up,” I said to Dr. Weiskopf as I settled into her comfortable couch. It was true, I felt better. But it was still weird being here, being “shrunk.” Before coming in, I’d looked around the parking lot, making sure no one spotted me. I wasn’t sure why I felt I needed to hide the fact I was seeing a shrink, but that’s how I felt. I could imagine Rachel and the gang having a field day with the information: just something else for her to talk about, to reinforce her feelings of superiority to everyone else, especially me.

  When I was sure the coast was clear, I’d rushed into the office. Funny, I hadn’t worried about seeing anyone else in the waiting room, but a woman was sitting in the corner, next to the window. Dr. Weiskopf’s cute assistant looked up and smiled as I signed in. Soon after, he called me in. The other woman had remained there, staring out the window, and never looked up. Maybe that’s how we’re supposed to act in the office: pretend we aren’t really here? If we didn’t acknowledge each other, maybe we didn’t really exist in each other’s lives. When I had glanced at her, it seemed as if she was trying to melt into the wall. I’m not sure I am ever that still.

  “That’s great news, Kelly,” Dr. Weiskopf said. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. How is the rest of your life going?”

  “That’s a rather open-ended question,” I said, and then laughed nervously.

  Dr. Weiskopf simply sat and watched me. Finally, she spoke. “Betty Friedan called it ‘the problem with no name’ in The Feminine Mystique. It’s that feeling of wanting to do more, to be more than a housewife. It’s okay to challenge yourself and to think about your life. I think that’s part of what you’re wrestling with here, Kelly.”

  “I just finished my first home staging job and really liked it, aside from the creepy owner of the house who sort of attacked me, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle,” I blabbed rapidly. “Patrick and I are really connecting, but Melanie thinks we’re clueless, and maybe we are, but she is spending time with Beth so that’s good. My mom said to be Swiss when it came to my friend Charlotte’s affair, so I’m trying to, but I wonder if going into business with her is wise.” I stopped to take a breath.

  She smiled. Wrote a couple of notes. Looked back at me. “Kelly, it is important that you don’t stretch yourself too thin. I know you’re feeling better mentally, but you’ve suddenly taken on a lot, not the least being a job. Take your time, see how it pans out. You don’t need to make business commitments immediately. You’ve done a remarkable thing uniting Melanie and Beth and allowing them time to work together, with your support. Make sure, in all of this, you are doing things for you. Things to keep you balanced and healthy. It’s easy, especially during times of change, to feel anxious. It’s important to stay grounded and true to yourself.”

  “I am. I feel good. Busy, but busy in the ways I want to be. And challenged. Excited. I still miss the boys every minute, but I don’t spend every minute dwelling on it. Melanie and I are actually going to take yoga together. All in all, I’m good.” And that’s how I felt.

  Dr. Weiskopf suggested we meet again in a month, which I took as a sign that I was in a “not so crazy” category of patient. Clearly, the good doctor needed to keep her calendar open for people far more miserable than I was, and in fact, I didn’t feel miserable at all. My problems weren’t uncommon or insurmountable, neither the depression nor the feeling of unrest under the surface. Now I knew Betty Friedan had named it a long time ago. I left, all smiles, waved so long to the hunk behind the desk, sneaked a peek at the corner, noted the woman had vanished, and dashed back to Doug, fairly certain no one had seen me.

  RESEARCH FINISHED, TODAY HAD BEEN SPENT FOCUSING on the fun part of my new business: the marketing. With my background in public relations and a little bit of design skill honed by helping out at various charity events and school fundraisers along the way, I was ready to design my own business card. The font: Batang. The color: a light blue.

  As I sat on my porch in the mid-afternoon sunshine daydreaming, I decided a hand-drawn hydrangea, modeled after the ones in my garden, would be my logo. At the completion of each job, I would leave a bouquet of hydrangeas for good luck. I’d found a website design and hosting firm I’d liked, sent them over the copy I’d written, and they would have a few possible layouts for my homepage within the next day or two. As I ran inside to grab my sketchbook and my watercolors, Melanie walked in the door.

  That wasn’t surprising, but the smile she wore was. “Hey, Kelly!” she chirped, and she bent down so Oreo could kiss her cheek and drop his Lucky Carp at her feet. “I’ve had the best day!”

  “That’s great. So have I! Hey, I signed us up for yoga. It starts today—this evening at 5:30, actually. Twice a week for an hour each session. It’s the beginners’ class, so they said we’d be fine.”

  “Okay, I guess. Gavin’s coming over tonight, but I’ll tell him to come a little later.” She sat on the floor with Oreo in her lap. Looking at her, watching her cuddle the dog, I felt that pang again. But if I’d had a daughter, she’d probably think I was clueless, too, I told myself.

  “So, um, I guess we’ll need to leave here in a couple hours to head over. I’m working on business cards. Want to help?”

  “No thanks. I’ll be in my room. Let me know when it’s time to go,” she said, slowly getting up. “Oh, and Kelly . . . Beth is nice.”

  “Yes, she is,” I answered to Melanie’s back as she headed up the stairs. That was as close as my beautiful lodger had come to starting a conversation. At least that was something. Maybe I could call Beth and find out what I was so clueless about. I stared at the art supplies I’d collected to use in working on my business cards. But instead of starting there, I knew I would not be able to concentrate on them until I had talked to Beth.

  “You just need to keep being patient,” Beth explained as I expressed my exasperation with Melanie’s lack of real communication. She’d been much more friendly, loved helping out with Oreo, and even spent some time downstairs with Patrick and me in the evenings. But the fact was, most of the time she was either hiding in her room, jogging, or hanging out with her boyfriend—or the young man who lurked in the bushes in the corner of our yard.

  “The thing is, I think she knows more about what’s going on with her parents than she is letting on,” I said. I’d told Beth everything Charlotte had confided in me, knowing it was having or would have an impact on Melanie’s life. “And she’s in contact with both of them. Sweet, loving text messages on her cell phone …” Oops.

  “Kelly! You really can’t spy on her. That would destroy any trust you are trying to build with Melanie.”

  I felt like a two-year-old being scolded. I needed a peanut butter cup. No, I could handle this. “Here’s the thing, though, Beth; she says I’m clueless, but I’m not sure if it’s in general or about things she’s up to that I should know about.”

  “Well, time will tell, I guess, but I do have to say she is starting to open up to me. And she’s wonderful with Sarah. I wouldn’t worry so much. I think the yoga class is a great way for you two to keep building your relationship. I’ll encourage it on my end. She’s coming over again tomorrow,” Beth said.

  “And how about you, Beth? What can I do for you? You don’t know what a blessing you’
ve been.”

  “This is what I want to do. You’re giving me a chance to work with someone, one-on-one, the way I couldn’t at the hospital. Really, thanks to you, Kelly, I’m developing protocols I’ll be able to use to help so many more young women, I hope.”

  “Speaking of yoga, by the way, remember ninth grade girls’ dance group? The talent show?”

  “How could I forget? You were the only one who did the entire dance having started on the wrong foot. What that did to our chorus line! But with yoga, it’s your own pace, so don’t worry. Maybe I’ll join you two sometime, when Sarah is older.”

  I was still laughing as we hung up. Laughing felt good, even when I was laughing at myself. Shared memories, even embarrassing ones, are what keeps friendships alive, or in this case, makes sure they’re reinvigorated. Hopefully this evening I wouldn’t become the yoga class clown.

  “Seems to me the only people who enjoy yoga are people who are already flexible,” I said to Melanie as we walked out of class. Sure, I’d tried to keep T2C #4 in mind the entire, agonizing sixty minutes, including the warm-up and the cool-down. But with walls of mirrors surrounding us on three sides, not comparing myself to the thin supermodels and perfect A-team tennis moms all around me was impossible. Apparently, all of the over-exercisers from the club considered yoga their relaxation after four hours in the gym or long tennis matches outside. I, on the other hand, thought it would serve as my primary means of exercise. It could; it was tough.

  “I thought it was nice,” Mel said as we climbed into Doug.

  “It was nice spending some time with you, even though you could touch your toes and my forward bend consisted of touching my knees,” I said. Yoga seemed to be a natural for Melanie. And she looked amazing in her color-coordinated, light-pink outfit. My Ohio State University sweat pants didn’t seem quite right, but I wasn’t about to go for skintight workout clothes.

  “So, tomorrow night would it be okay if I had a few people over, Aunt Kelly? We’ll stay in the basement and keep out of your way.”

  “Sure. Do you need snacks or anything? Can I help you get ready?”

  “Oh no, really, nothing like that. We’re just going to chill, kick back,” she said.

  “In other words, leave you alone?” I asked, smiling. I’d picked up the panic in her voice. “No problem. Maybe Patrick will take me out to dinner. Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask, Mel. Have you heard from your mom lately?”

  “No, not at all. But that’s okay.”

  I wished she’d stop lying to me, but I let it go.

  Later that evening, sitting outside on my favorite couch on the porch with Patrick, I brought up Melanie. Her request to have people over to “chill” didn’t faze him. He thought it was a great idea. Then I brought up her absentee parents again, and the fact she’d lied about hearing from them.

  “If it bothers you, call Kathryn,” he said. “Melanie must have a reason. Maybe she thinks that if we think her parents have abandoned her we’ll go easy on her, cater to her every whim. Oh, wait, that’s what you’re doing.”

  I gave him the look, and he winked. “I know I’m doing the same thing,” he quickly added. “She should have some chores or something around here.”

  I guess I should try harder to connect with Kathryn, but heck, she needed a break. I’d called a couple of times and left messages, rambled on about how great Mel was doing, but now that I knew Bruce was screwing around with Charlotte, it was really awkward. Patrick didn’t know that minor tidbit. I just couldn’t bring myself to tell him yet.

  “Here’s the thing. Kathryn said she and Bruce were having troubles, and hopefully they would straighten something out while Mel stayed here with us. But I did think she’d check in once in awhile. I didn’t expect Kathryn to up and disappear.”

  “Well, she’ll get in touch when she’s ready. Besides, you have a business to worry about,” Patrick said as he took my right hand in his. “I’m so proud of you. What’s your next step?”

  “I need to get the word out to all of the real estate agents in town. I’ve started to design my business card. And now that I’ve registered my URL, I’ve hired a design firm and can’t wait to see what they come up with for the site. Actually, it makes sense to work my magic for all of the real estate agents in town, not just Charlotte,” I said. There. Take that, Charlotte, you tramp, you.

  “I thought you and Charlotte were going into business together?” Patrick asked.

  “We were, but I realize I need a broader base. I was thinking about hosting a cocktail party and inviting all of the real estate agents in town. Our house does have a certain snob appeal. When we put it on the holiday tour for the Diabetes Association fundraiser last year, there were long lines waiting to get in, remember? What do you think?” I loved my husband and his opinions, most of the time. Especially if he agreed with me.

  “I think it’s brilliant, but I also think you and Charlotte make a good team. You definitely need to make sure Charlotte will let you take folks over to the Thompsons’ to show off your masterpiece. Speaking of that, can we go over and have a little peek? I haven’t seen your final work yet.”

  The sun was performing its magnificent red, orange, and dark pink setting number. I was proud of my inaugural home staging. Surely taking Patrick over wouldn’t be against the rules. And I knew Bob wouldn’t be there; he hadn’t been spotted anywhere in Grandville since our encounter.

  “I’d love for you to see it. Can you look over there and see if anybody’s car is in the driveway? I don’t think Charlotte has any showings this late, but you never know. I’ll go leave a note for Melanie in case she and Gavin wonder where we are.” Like Melanie would care, I thought.

  “Coast is clear!” Patrick said as I walked back onto the porch. We headed over. The sun had fallen below the horizon, and it was almost dark. I’d set new lamps on timers, and lights glowed in the windows of the front two rooms. I hadn’t needed to be told that one of the keys to making a home welcoming was lighting. It was actually the most important component. That, and pleasant fragrances.

  I turned the combination on the lockbox and extracted the key. We both looked around a little nervously.

  “I feel like a criminal, but I’m certain it’s okay to show you, right?” I said, key turning in the lock and door opening.

  “Right,” Patrick said, stepping past me in the entryway and admiring the transformation. “This is wonderful, Kelly. What is it that Charlotte says? You have exquisite taste. She’s right.”

  I gave my biggest fan a squeeze and then showed him—with great pride and in even greater detail—around the first and second floors. The fresh flowers Charlotte had sent over made every room smell fabulous. I realized we’d been talking in hushed voices, as though we were intruders or something. As we rounded the corner to head up to the third floor, I heard a sound.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “Dunno,” Patrick said, passing me and heading up the stairs. “Wait here.”

  Yeah, right.

  I MADE IT TO THE THIRD FLOOR RIGHT ON HIS HEELS, SO MY body blocked Patrick as he turned for a hasty retreat. The stairs being narrow, I just couldn’t react that quickly. We both stood, transfixed, at the top of the stairs. Directly in front of us in the master bedroom were Charlotte and Bruce. In my beach-themed bed. At least they were under the covers.

  “My God!” Patrick exclaimed. “Charlotte? Is that Bruce with you? Where is Jim?”

  His shock was a bit bigger than mine because I already knew the scoop. But seeing it, them, in person, here?

  “Hi Patrick,” Charlotte said, pulling the covers up under her chin. “Jim isn’t here. We’re separated.” She said it matter-of-factly, as if we’d just met her in the grocery store, in aisle 4.

  I averted my eyes and said, “Sorry for intruding. I just wanted to show Patrick what I’d been working on, and, well, we had no idea you’d be here. Clearly. I’m sorry. I don’t know all the rules about home staging yet, I guess. We should be going, Pat
rick.” I tugged on my husband’s hand but he wasn’t moving.

  “Um, say, you two, if you could keep this situation on the down low we both would really appreciate it,” Bruce muttered.

  “Oh, sure, Bruce,” I said, suddenly fiercely, inexplicably furious. I hopped back up the two steps I’d descended and faced him. He pulled the sheet up to his chin in self-defense. “And I’ll be sure not to mention the fact that while you’re over here your daughter is next door at my house, trying to recover from a serious mental and physical illness that I have had to learn far too much about, yet you seem to be oblivious to; that and what your lack of care and self-centeredness are doing to her and to your wife. But sure, Bruce, I’ll keep all of this on the down low. I wouldn’t want word to get out that you’re a horrible husband and father. No, I’ll just let that be blatantly obvious as I try to explain to your anorexic daughter why her father, who happens to be across the street having sex with a woman who isn’t his wife, hasn’t visited her once since she’s been staying with us—”

  Patrick started to pull me down the stairs but I was still yelling. “—And Charlotte, I expect to get paid whatever it is you said I’d get paid by helping you turn this bastard of a house around so you could sleep in it with a son of a bitch. And you can just kiss that idea of a business together good-bye!”

  We were down the stairs and I was sobbing. I can never yell and get mad without crying. It’s such a curse, and it always totally undermines my point. How and when had my mad/sad reflexes gotten tangled? Patrick had his arm around me and was mumbling something in my ear about letting it go and going home when Charlotte, wearing what had to be Bruce’s shirt and boxer shorts, grabbed my arm. She must’ve literally flown down the three flights of stairs behind us.

  “Oh Kelly, there’s more to the story here, I promise. I love you, and I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m proud that we worked together on your first job, and I can’t wait to have a business together. Bruce bought the house. This house. For us and the girls. Isn’t it wonderful? We were just celebrating! You helped make this all possible, Kelly.”