Surreal Estate

by Jesi Lea Ryan

  “Oh shit! It is money! It’s that goddamned house, isn’t it? That’s who you got the money from.”

  I nodded, staring at the brick wall of the bar, rather than look my brother in the eye.

  “Fuck, Nick, how could you? And what was that about July first?”

  “The expiration date on my loan.”

  Damien stood there, pale and with his mouth open, clearly processing exactly how fucked his big brother was.

  I lay in bed, staring at the drop ceiling of my old bedroom while Nick snored softly beside me in my too-small-for-two-grown-adults bed. He’d been quiet this afternoon, after returning with lunch, but when I asked him what was up, he smiled and assured me he was fine. The unattainable time-crunch we were in was probably getting to him, and I wished there was something, anything, I could do to make this Frank Diamond problem go away.

  After busting our asses all day at work, we’d come down to Zayde’s house—my house—to get the paperwork to change the deed over to my name, which I planned to do before Rina concocted a scheme to fight me on it. Of course, once we’d gotten here, and I’d noticed how red Nick’s eyes were from three eighteen-hour workdays in a row, we’d decided to call it a night and sleep here.

  Nick had been out before his head hit the pillow. He always was a good sleeper. Me, I couldn’t stop thinking. This house is mine! Really mine. As long as I kept the taxes paid, no one would ever be able to take it from me. No more wearing my entire wardrobe in layers to keep the chill out. No more sleeping on park benches. Hell, I didn’t even have to sleep on the floor at Nick’s flip if I didn’t want to. But every time I let myself feel too happy about it, I’d remember the trouble Nick was in, and the anxiety would creep in again.

  I climbed out of bed and drew on a pair of flannel pajama pants that had been hiding in the back of the drawer since I’d left home, along with the other discarded remnants of my high school wardrobe. They were a little short, but fit my waist well enough to let me step out for a cigarette. I scooped up my pack and headed to the back porch.

  The night was clear but still. The city lights blotted out all but the most determined stars. I sat on the cement stoop and lit up. I should quit, or one of these days I’d end up with a singing voice like Al Pacino. Now that my housing crisis was over and I owned a home, maybe it was a good time to grow up and make responsible decisions like that.

  So I guess I’ll have to move back to Oak Creek. I groaned softly and then felt guilty for it. I should’ve been fucking happy. After all, this was the first time I’d felt secure since Zayde died. And while contentment was my favorite emotion, security ran a close second.

  So why was I dreading living here?

  Honestly, I’d never seen myself living in Oak Creek as an adult. The jobs were all in the city, so I’d always assumed I would stay in Milwaukee after college. And since I didn’t have a car, commuting wasn’t a viable option.

  And then there was the house itself. This was a family home. A place for kids and maybe a dog. There was a reason the house always showed visions of my childhood. It missed those days of hustle and bustle. It wouldn’t get that with me, not even if Nick moved in. I was a quiet person with few friends. I’d rather read a book than throw a party. And as outgoing as Nick was, I thought he’d feel the same.

  But what about the memories?

  I finished my smoke and headed back inside. The kitchen was lit by the stove light, the same way it had burned every night of my childhood. Nightlights such as this and the one that used to be in the bathroom were how my zayde had made me feel safe. I’d never worried about monsters in the dark when I’d had to get a drink of water or use the toilet. But Zayde wasn’t here to protect me anymore, and truthfully, I could fight my own monsters now.

  I wandered into the living room where yellow light from the street lamp streamed in through the picture window. I’d spent so many hours in front of the TV playing with my Matchbox cars. It used to be hard to run them on the shag carpet, so one day, Zayde had bought me a plastic track set. What happened to my cars and that track? I supposed, like the shag carpeting, they’d been erased by time.

  Running my hand along the textured drywall, I reached out to feel the psychic connection with the house. There was a low neutral hum as the house was relaxing from its year of pain and frustration. It had never liked Rina, at least not as long as I could remember. She was too volatile and disrespectful. It had always been clear when she showed up by the shudder in the atmosphere. Now that she was gone, the house wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore.

  I stepped into the hall and peeked into Rina’s room. I’d have to pack her clothes up. Technically, all the furniture in the house was hers too. She could have it if she wanted, but I doubted she had any place to keep it. Probably once I cooled down a bit, I’d let her walk through and take anything she wanted. But not now. I wasn’t ready to see her yet. Of course, once she took her stuff, I could paint over that godawful purple.

  That got me thinking about other things I’d have to change to make this house livable for me.

  I crossed to the bathroom and looked around. I hated the shower in here. After I crossed the five-foot-nine mark, I’d had to stoop just to wash my hair. Nick would have the same problem. The shower in the master was better, but the thought of turning Zayde’s room into my bedroom made me queasy. I didn’t want to be haunted by the visions of my mother’s debauchery for the rest of my life. Plus, that part of the house held too much of Zayde’s essence. It was one thing to remember your loved ones and another to be haunted by their memories. I’d basically have to block off this whole back part of the house and leave it unused. What a waste. But then I didn’t want to sleep in my little kid room either, not now. Nick and I would need a king-sized bed for sure, and the basement bedroom would never accommodate it.

  Nick. Well, it hadn’t taken as long for me to warm to the idea of shacking up with him as I’d thought it would. Yes, it was a big step, but one I felt ready for. Now that my housing situation wasn’t so dire, I could finally meet him on a more-or-less even ground. If he moved in here with me, it wouldn’t be like him saving me or me saving him. I brought a whole house to the table now.

  I might be a little young to be thinking about settling down, but my time on the streets had aged me inside. Most guys my age were still bouncing from party to party and bed to bed. I didn’t want any of that. I just wanted a warm, safe place to sleep at night and Nick by my side. But would he be happy living here?

  If he doesn’t get out from this mess with Diamond, he might not be living anywhere.

  I chilled at the thought.

  Now that my housing woes were over, I needed to find a way to help Nick. Each time I had closed my eyes over the last few days, I’d seen his battered face. The thought of him under that guy’s thumb had me terrified. As much as it pained me to think about, maybe Nick should leave Milwaukee.

  The spark of an idea tickled my brain, and I gasped.

  I needed the internet. Now. Rina had pawned the old desktop that had gotten me through high school, but Nick had a smartphone. I crept back downstairs. He was sprawled across the mattress on his stomach, taking up the entire bed. The tangled sheet was wound around his legs, exposing one bare butt cheek.

  “Hey, Nick,” I whispered, not wanting to alarm him. “Can I use your phone?”

  He muttered something like an affirmation into his pillow. I dug the phone out of his jeans pocket.

  “What’s the password?”

  “Birthday.”

  I punched in the month and day of his birthday, and the phone came to life.

  “Thanks.”

  Back in the kitchen, I poked around on the web for a good hour, scribbling notes on scratch paper. Then I brought the mail out from the bedroom and began to comb through it. I organized the bills into manageable stacks. Some could be dispatched with a copy of Zayde’s death certificate. Others should be paid. The birds were waking up by the time I was finished, but man, I hadn’t fe
lt this motivated in a long time. I had a plan. A good one.

  I yawned, but I had one last thing to do before turning in. I scrolled through Nick’s contacts and found Steven’s work number. I pressed it. A voice recording picked up and I fidgeted as it ran through the office hours and fax number. When the tone beeped for me to leave a message, I took a deep breath.

  “Steven. This is Sasha. I think I found a way to help Nick.”

  “Shit!” I yelled, sticking my thumb in my mouth to soothe the pain from where I’d clipped it with the drill. Working this fast and tired was making me sloppy. The bruises on my legs and large scratch on my forearm were a testament to that. But, fuck, I had to keep going.

  “You need to slow down,” Kelly said, as she watched me installing the shelves in what Sasha called the library. She was only pointing out the obvious, but I glared at her anyway. “Do you want a bandage?”

  “I’m good.” I returned to my work. When done, there would be two large shelving units on the sides with a credenza in the middle for extra storage. Above the credenza, I’d wired in a space for a flat screen. It was exactly what I wanted in my home someday—a casual place to kick back and relax. After weeks of nonstop work, the thought of relaxing seemed like an impossible dream.

  “I got an email this morning that the bedroom window coverings have to be shipped from another warehouse. They’ll take about two weeks.”

  “Two weeks? I don’t have two weeks! I need this house sold in ten days.”

  As it always did when I thought about the calendar, my gut filled with acid. Most of the big stuff was done, but there was still close to a month of work left to get the house ready to list. Time I didn’t have, and my budget didn’t allow for me to hire any more labor. My mouth went dry. Shit, I’m not going to make it. I squeezed my eyes shut and willed the water filling them to back the fuck off.

  “We could always cancel the order and let the buyers purchase their own.”

  As tempting as that was, I couldn’t do that. “Window coverings are expensive, and the last thing buyers want to sink money into after purchasing a home are blinds. If I want to sell fast, I need to make it as turnkey as possible. See if you can find a different style that’s in stock. Keep it neutral. And for Christ’s sake, keep in budget. Please.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Kelly jotted notes on her tablet. “Is Sasha around?”

  I wish. I could have used him to strip the paint from the porches. “Nah. He had stuff to do this morning.”

  My voice cracked on that last bit. He was being cagey about something. Had said he had to run out to do laundry this morning, but had somehow left without taking his bag. Even though we spent every night together sacked out on the floor upstairs, he still hadn’t answered me about moving in, and now it didn’t feel right to bring it up since that would basically mean inviting myself to move in with him. On top of everything, I didn’t have enough money to pay the rent on my apartment.

  Homeowner now or not, Sasha was still camping out here, probably because the commute to Oak Creek was inconvenient without a car. So while I was curious about what he was up to, I had more important things to figure out. Like which Central American country to hide out in once I missed Frank Diamond’s drop-dead date.

  “I like him. Sasha.”

  “What?” I glared at Kelly. She was leaning against the wall wearing a pink sundress that matched the streaks newly added to her hair.

  She laughed. “You should see the look on your face! I meant that I like him . . . for you.”

  I schooled myself into my best neutral expression. Talking about Sasha and my bisexuality with my brothers was one thing. They were my best friends. But I thought we’d been doing a pretty good job staying professional when my employees were around.

  “Oh, come on, Nick. How long have we been friends now? Even with as stressed as you’ve been lately, when Sasha walks in the room, your eyes light up. I know love when I see it.”

  “Love? It’s not . . . you know . . .” I hated that word. I’d only ever said it to Melissa, and even then, rarely. Looking back on our marriage now, I didn’t think I’d really meant it. Mostly, I’d loved the idea of Melissa. Having someone to come home to and talk to about my day. And Melissa had been a damn good listener. Until she’d stopped. And then I’d realized I hadn’t been listening to her at all.

  But being with Sasha was different. I loved listening to him. Whether he went on and on about past gigs he played or stories about the trouble he and his friend Justin had gotten into as kids. I even loved to listen to him hum as he worked, a habit he didn’t seem to be aware of.

  The conversation was eating up precious time, so I returned to my installation work. Kelly was not deterred.

  “All I’m saying is it’s obvious to anyone who knows you that you two are crazy about each other. I didn’t even know you two were gay until I saw those moony looks you give each other when you think no one is paying attention.”

  “I’m not gay. I’m bi.”

  “That’s cool. My older brother, Patrick, is gay. I’m probably bi too. Made out with a girl in my dorm freshman year. I generally date guys, but after her, I think I’d be open to another girl.”

  I cleared my throat and focused on the work at hand, super uncomfortable with how the thought of Kelly making out with a chick on her dorm bed made me feel. “Well, that’s good. I guess. So you should probably be on your way now. To fix the blinds problem, I mean.”

  She giggled knowingly. “Sure thing, Nick. I’ll text you when I figure it out.”

  Kelly left, and I immediately regretted sending her off. Alone, I couldn’t stop my mind from tracking back to the Frank Diamond problem, making my stomach sink again.

  I heard a car pull into the driveway. I glanced out the window at Steven’s BMW, and then did a double take when Sasha climbed out of the passenger seat. Did Sasha call my brother for a ride? They were friendly enough to each other, but I’d always thought Sasha got along better with Damien. Or hell, me.

  “If you needed a ride, you could have called me,” I said when Sasha walked in the door. I scowled at Steven. This only made him laugh.

  “Settle down, bro.” Steven opened his man-purse—okay fine, attaché—and started rooting around.

  In an uncharacteristic move, Sasha grasped my head and laid a short but toe-curling kiss on me. When we separated, his smile and eyes lit up with naked emotion. It was . . . stunning.

  Steven cleared his throat. “Sasha, do you have something you want to discuss with Nick?”

  “Yeah,” he said, his expression fading to serious. “Nick, I have a proposal for you.”

  “You’re proposing!” Gay marriage might be legal now, but that didn’t mean I wanted one. Not right now anyway.

  “Come on, Nick. If we were going to run headfirst into marriage, we both know it would be you dragging me along. No, I have a proposal, like a deal, to offer you.”

  “A deal?”

  “Yes.” He motioned to Steven, who handed him a small packet of familiar papers. Sasha took a deep breath and passed them to me.

  I stared at them, not quite believing what I saw. My face flushed and hands started to shake. “You want to buy this place?”

  Steven spoke up. “Cash offer. It might not be as much as you hoped for, but I think the offer is fair. Especially since I’m waiving my commission to make it work. The offer is contingent on two things. The closing must be complete by June thirtieth, and you have to complete the following repairs within the next twelve months.”

  The repairs requested were basically just the remaining work on my task list. In fact, they suspiciously looked copy-and-pasted from my project form.

  For a moment, all I could do was stand there with my mouth gaping open. “What’s going on here, Sash? Where’s this money coming from?”

  “I sold Zayde’s house. It has a lot of memories for me, but I don’t really want to live there. It doesn’t fit me anymore, and besides, there are too many memories tha
t I want to forget. Steven has some first-time home buyers who want a house near a grade school to raise their kids. We don’t close for a month or so, but Steven set me up with one of those bridge loans so I could pay you for this place now.”

  I sat down on a step stool and stared at the offer in my hands. The words blurred together, and I blinked fast to hold the stupid tears back. Two hundred thirty thousand dollars. It was a little low, but I could pay off Diamond and still have some profit to get started on my next project.

  “I don’t know what to say. Are you sure you want to live here? It’s a big house for one guy.”

  He crouched down and placed his hands on my knees. “I’ve never been surer about anything. I love this house, and fortunately, it loves me too. It drew me here for a reason. And anyway, I don’t have to live here alone. You’ll be with me, won’t you?”

  A lump formed in my throat, and I pulled him in tight, burying my face in his hair. I couldn’t stop a few tears from leaking as I held him. No way could this be real. It was all too much. Frank Diamond, the endless scramble of work, the crush of disappointment I’d seen in my brothers’ eyes since I’d confessed my mess. And now Sasha—sweet, beautiful Sasha—had not only offered me a way out from the crushing debt, but had offered to share his life with me as well.

  “Yes. To all of it.” I gave him a quick kiss. “This is the perfect home for us to start our life together.”

  “You sure? The house offer isn’t contingent on you moving in with me.”

  “Of course, I’m sure. I love you. There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

  His cheeks pinkened. “I love you too.”

  Steven waved the paperwork at us. “Ahem! Sealing the deal with a kiss is sweet, but I really need Nick’s signature so I can get this filed.”

  Sasha pulled away laughing, and Steven handed me a pen.

  “But what about your grandfather’s house? You were so happy when you found out it was yours.”

  “I was happy, but it’s not practical for me.” He dropped his voice and gave me a serious look. “I can’t live in that house anymore. Not after my mom . . . well, I can’t risk envisioning . . . things. You get me?”