If These Walls Could Talk

by Bettye Griffin

  “I went back for seconds. I’ve never had it made with spaghetti before.”

  “My daughter is a picky eater. She doesn’t like noodles. Says they’re too thick.”

  Veronica pursed her lips. “Well, that was definitely my treat for the week.”

  Camille looked at her incredulously. “Macaroni and cheese is a treat? As tiny as you are you don’t have to watch what you eat.” The first thing she’d noticed about Veronica was her petite size. She was one of those women who would probably never gain weight, like Jackie Onassis or Audrey Hepburn. Standing next to her made Camille more aware than ever of those forty extra pounds she carried. She could hardly believe Veronica had given birth to two children. Naturally, her husband, Norman, looked like a linebacker. Not all that tall, just big. Those huge types often went after petite women.

  “Can I fix you a plate? You’re so busy, running in and out of the house but not eating.”

  “Thanks, but I’m all right. I just want to make sure I spend a few minutes with everyone here and make sure they’re all right, and then I promise I’ll sit down with a plate.” Camille started to excuse herself, then decided she owed it to Veronica not to leave her standing alone. Norman wasn’t here, and the only other people Veronica knew were Douglas and Tanisha, whom she didn’t even see at the moment. “Veronica, have you met our neighbors? Marianne and Jeff, Linda and Bob?”

  “Yes, I traded relocation stories with them. Nice people.”

  “And Tanisha and Douglas are here somewhere. I know you know them from the bus.”

  “Actually, uh . . . I think they left.”

  “They did?” Camille glanced around at the guests. She spotted Alex Cole, Tanisha and Douglas’s ten-year-old who often played with Mitchell, but no sign of his parents. “Well, that’s a surprise. They didn’t say anything to me about leaving.”

  “They weren’t here long,” Veronica remarked lightly.

  “Just what I need,” Camille said with a groan. “Guests who eat and run.”

  “Tanisha said something about their son not feeling well.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I could see if she was talking about Alex, but since he’s here, she must mean her older kid, and he’s out of high school.” She knew from conversations with Tanisha that in addition to Alex, their child together, Douglas had a nineteen-year-old son from an earlier relationship. The young man lived with his mother in St. Albans, Queens, but came out to stay with them from time to time. He obviously didn’t work or go to college, and although Tanisha didn’t say it, Camille sensed that her stepson’s presence was the source of conflict in her household.

  Veronica tactfully changed the subject. “Anyhow, everything is very nice, Camille. Your house is gorgeous.”

  “Thanks.” Camille and Reuben had met Veronica and Norman on the commuter bus. The Lees lived in nearby Mount Pocono and had been in Pennsylvania only for a month or so, and she and Reuben both felt them to be nice people. Today Veronica had brought their two daughters along, and they played with Shayla, who delighted in playing hostess to her cousins and other visiting children.

  Like most of the other commuters, Veronica and Norman had moved here from the city, in their case Washington Heights. But the Lees worked untraditional hours. Both RNs, they worked ten-hour shifts at the Presbyterian Medical Center in upper Manhattan. Camille and Reuben saw the Lees only during the afternoon trip to New York; they took the first bus out to get to work before 7:00. Camille envied their work schedules. Norman worked four days a week and Veronica three. They never rode the bus at the same time; they’d worked it out so that one of them would always be at home with their children. Not only did they have no child care expense, but they got to share a single bus pass.

  She wished she and Reuben could cut the cost of their commute in half. They shelled out nearly five hundred dollars a month for two bus passes, which hurt more than a toothache. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, Reuben also had to purchase a MetroCard weekly to get to work in the Bronx from Port Authority. The Lees had to buy MetroCards, but with buying just one bus pass the expense seemed more bearable.

  Again she experienced that stabbing discomfort. It felt like someone had jabbed a needle directly into her rib cage.

  “I’m looking forward to redecorating our place,” Veronica said now.

  Camille’s fears melted away. This was no time to be nervous, not when she’d just been complimented. Best relax and enjoy it, like the clear, fresh scent of the lake and the lingering aroma of the food Reuben had cooked. “It’s fun, buying furniture,” she said. “You just have to be careful to make sure you love what you buy, since you’ll be looking at it for years.”

  “I’m afraid we need more than just furniture. Our kitchen and bathrooms need updating.”

  Camille’s brow wrinkled. “Updating? In a new house?”

  “Our place isn’t new. It was built nearly forty years ago.” Veronica shrugged, a sheepish expression on her face. “We didn’t buy in one of the new subdivisions. We did start to buy in Arlington Acres. Their ad on TV is what brought us out here in the first place, but the salesman was so aggressive he turned us off. We think he even staged a phony telephone call to try to get us to spring for a lakefront lot, like this one. We told him we couldn’t afford to build by the lake, but he kept pushing.”

  Camille swallowed hard. “What was your salesman’s name?”

  “Oh, I don’t remember. Elvis? No, that wasn’t it. But I do think it started with an ‘E.’ He was a young man, reminded me a little of Brad Pitt. Tall, blond, and very handsome, if a bit on the skinny side. But we ran into the same problem at the other subdivision we visited. Everybody tried to get us to buy right away, or else, they said, we’d lose out. All that high pressure made us very wary. We decided to look at existing houses for sale.” She glanced at the lake, and then at the back of the Curry house with a wistful smile. “But now that I see how lovely your property is, it makes me wish Norman and I could have afforded something like this.”

  Camille knew Veronica meant to praise her and Reuben’s taste, but privately she felt mortified. What would Veronica say if she knew that Reuben had been unable to resist Eric’s ploy to upgrade both their house and the lot it stood on? The Lees probably pulled in close to a hundred grand, if not more, and Veronica made no bones about the fact that they couldn’t afford a lakefront lot. If the Lees couldn’t afford it, how could she and Reuben?

  In spite of his assurances to the contrary, she still wasn’t convinced they hadn’t overextended themselves on this particular house. Last month they barely squeaked by after paying their monthly expenses plus commuting costs and their electric bill, which, now that school was out and Mitchell and Shayla would be home with Kierra all day, would be even higher. The central air would have to run continuously to keep the house bearable. Back in the Bronx they had room air conditioners in the bedroom windows, but it wasn’t bad, even with Con Ed billing at higher rates from April to October, a ridiculous extension of the summer months in a not-all-that-warm Northeast climate. Here, on the other hand, having central air meant they had to pay to cool the entire nineteen-hundred-square-foot house, not just selected rooms.

  And this month, with the money they’d spent on food, beer, and wine for their housewarming party, they’d be lucky if they had anything left at all.

  That stabbing feeling returned, and this time she knew she wouldn’t be able to shake it.

  “So, Lance, what do you think of the place?” Reuben asked, genially patting his friend Lance Howard on the back. By 7:30 most of the guests had left to return to the city, with Lance himself about to embark on the long drive.

  Camille waited confidently for their friend’s response. Lance had worked construction in New York for fifteen years, and he knew a thing or two about buildings. His endorsement would affirm her and Reuben’s decision to move here and quiet everyone’s criticism once and for all.

  “Nice layout,” Lance replied. “I like the way they put the laun
dry room upstairs.”

  “Layout? You’re kidding, right?” Reuben wore an amused expression that matched his body stance of arms held slightly out, bent up at the elbow and his palms facing outward. “Who cares about the layout? How’s the house constructed, man? You’re the expert.”

  “Hey, I’m no expert.”

  Reuben clearly didn’t buy it. “Whattaya mean, you’re no expert? You know enough to probably build a house yourself, from foundation to roof.”

  Lance’s seeming reluctance to answer puzzled Camille. Why the hesitation?

  He finally answered. “Listen, I’ve been in construction for nearly twenty years, and I’ve got to tell you I’m not too impressed with the way they built this house.”

  Reuben drew back his head on his neck, clearly taken aback by Lance’s words. “Whatchoo talkin’ ’bout, Lance?” he demanded, unintentionally sounding just like Gary Coleman during his Diff’rent Strokes heyday.

  “Nails are sticking out all over your siding, especially in the back of the house,” he explained. “That suggests carelessness to me. I wouldn’t be surprised if your siding started peeling within two years. And worse, I didn’t see any signs of sealant under the siding,” he said, “and when I tapped on the walls they sound hollow. I don’t think the builder did a good job of insulating. But I never claimed to be an expert. The real test will be when it gets cold.”

  Camille’s eyes went to Reuben, who looked as dazed as she felt. Then she looked at her brother-in-law, Saul, who wore an amused smile. Fortunately, both Brenda and Arnelle had already left with Ginny, although she knew Saul would be sure to tell them all about Lance’s comments.

  Camille squared her shoulders in defiance. She wouldn’t have expected it of Lance, but he was acting just like the others. Just about every one of their friends, and certainly her in-laws, first praised the neighborhood and the house, then finished with something negative, along the lines of Brenda’s comment about their long commute limiting the amount of time they had to enjoy their new home. Saul said he would feel uncomfortable living around so many white people. Arnelle said she would never allow her children to go in a pool with no lifeguard on duty.

  She’d suffered through comments of that ilk all afternoon. Even her mother-in-law, Ginny, gave a backhanded compliment. “I’m glad you two put my sister’s money to good use,” she said.

  Camille knew jealousy lurked behind all the negativity. Still, she thought Lance, one of Reuben’s closest friends and the best man at their wedding, was above all that.

  As far as she was concerned they could all go back to New York and never come back. She and Reuben would be better off without them.

  Chapter 15

  The Youngs

  August 2002

  Dawn’s shoulders twitched with excitement. She had never dreamed she would one day experience this happy situation. She and Milo signed paper after paper, and in a few minutes they would be given the keys to their new home. She felt not only happy but proud.

  “And this is a breakdown of your monthly payment,” the broker said, showing them the latest in the dwindling stack of papers they still had to sign.

  Dawn gasped. Her eyes automatically went to the total at the bottom of the page, which was $1,020.

  Milo saw it, too. “I don’t get it,” he said. “What’s all this extra stuff? I know we bought a larger model and got some extras, but even with that we were told we’d only be paying $850.”

  Dawn’s mind swirled. She only half-heard as the agent explained about the escrow account, from which their home owner’s insurance and taxes would be paid. All she knew was that it meant an extra $170 each month they hadn’t planned on spending. They already had to shell out $480 a month for bus fare. On top of that, they’d visited the local Thomasville Furniture Gallery in Scranton and bought new furniture for their bedroom plus sets for the living room and dining room. Everything was scheduled to be delivered just days after they moved in. It cost over four thousand dollars. For the first time she felt a sense of alarm. Where would all this extra cash come from?

  “Well, this comes as an unpleasant surprise,” Milo said with a grunt. “Another $170 every month. You really shouldn’t go around advertising affordable mortgage payments and then tell people at their closings about an escrow account.”

  “There certainly was no secrecy involved. We clearly advertised $740 for mortgage principal and interest,” the agent clarified, sounding just a tad defensive. “Most lenders open escrow accounts for their mortgagees to pay their taxes and insurance. If not, the mortgage holder has to pay them directly themselves. There’s no escaping death and taxes.” He chuckled at his little joke, but neither Dawn nor Milo cracked a smile.

  Instead Milo held his pen still over the paper, staring at the number on the bottom.

  “Uh, Mr. Young. I can understand this comes as a shock if you didn’t know about it previously, but is there a problem?” the agent prompted.

  Milo looked at Dawn, and she gave him what she hoped looked like a reassuring smile.

  “No, I guess not,” he finally said. He signed the page and then handed the clipboard to her.

  They left the closing, Dawn clutching the bottle of champagne given to them at the conclusion by its neck. “I don’t know, Dawn,” Milo said. “I guess I should have done some homework before contracting to have this place built. I don’t know escrow from enchiladas.”

  “I didn’t know, either, but what could we do? It’s not like we can talk to any of our friends about it. They wouldn’t know any more than us. And I wouldn’t want to ask anyone at work. I don’t want those people in my business.” Or to know how little she really knew about this whole home-buying thing. The only thing they’d looked into ahead of time was the cost of bus passes and parking at the station. It occurred to her that she could have gone to the library and read up about home ownership, but now that they’d officially taken ownership there seemed little point in doing it now.

  “We’ve already got the added expense of bus passes to get to and from work, Dawn. When you add in the cost of parking at the station all day, that’s over five hundred dollars a month by itself. Now we’ve got this extra payment for escrow. We already know we’ll have to pay an electric bill and buy a washer and dryer and a lawn mower. All these extra expenses add up to a lot of money. I’m not sure if we’re going to be able to make it.”

  “Of course we’ll make it, Milo. We shouldn’t have to commute into the city for long. We’ll get jobs in Pennsylvania, eventually, and we can drive to work like a lot of people in the suburbs do.”

  “Work in Pennsylvania? Where, at Wal-Mart? Dawn, have you looked at a map recently? Tobyhanna is in the middle of nowhere. There isn’t even a McDonald’s in town, for heaven’s sake. The nearest one is in Mount Pocono.”

  “Milo, most of America is made up of small- and medium-sized towns. Everybody doesn’t work at Wal-Mart or McDonald’s. If anything, it might be harder for me to find a job, but you’re a programmer. You can’t tell me that no one in Scranton or Wilkes-Barre has a need for programmers. And those cities aren’t that far away, maybe twenty-five miles. That’s a reasonable commute.”

  “Well, maybe. But somehow I doubt it.”

  She tried again. “Look. Even Newark is closer than going all the way to the city, and they already have vans going there. Both of us might be able to find something closer, and the commute won’t only be cheaper, it’ll be shorter.”

  Milo’s thoughtful look told her she’d accomplished her goal of trying to get him to feel better. After all, they’d just closed on their house and been given the keys. Tomorrow they would load up the rented truck and drive to Pennsylvania. Their good friends Donald and Carmen Triggs would help them load up, drive down with them, help unload the truck, spend the night, and then drive back on Sunday. Because of the new furniture they’d bought, most of their belongings were simply boxed up.

  Dawn looked forward to having Carmen keep her company during the long drive. Zac
h would ride with Milo in the rented truck, and Donald would drive the family car with their son, who was just one year younger than Zach. The two boys had been friends all their lives.

  “This is such a beautiful house,” Carmen said with admiration.

  Upon arriving at the house, Dawn and Milo gave them a tour. “It even smells new. And to think it’s all yours.”

  “Thanks, but we can’t take credit. It’s actually the bank’s house,” Milo joked.

  “I can’t wait to see your new furniture.”

  Milo grunted, and Carmen looked taken aback.

  Dawn jumped in. “It’s going to look fabulous. It’ll be delivered next week.” She hadn’t told Carmen about the escrow account or the argument she and Milo had after learning about it. He’d suggested they cancel their furniture order, and she pointed out that all their living room seating—the sofa, loveseat, and chair—was being created with the upholstery they had chosen and they could hardly stop it at this late date. He countered that they should cancel everything but the sofas and chairs. She insisted on going ahead as planned, that they would manage. Things got pretty ugly before he finally relented.

  She expected him to eventually give in. Milo had always seen to it that she got whatever she wanted, but he still felt uneasy about the decision. Even now he expressed doubts. “Yeah,” he said, “my wife thinks our last name is Rockefeller, not Young. She picked out new everything. You won’t recognize this place next time you see it. The only furniture we’re keeping besides Zach’s room is our living room. It’ll go in the den.”

  “Well . . .” Carmen obviously sensed she’d touched on a sensitive topic. “It all goes together, doesn’t it?” she asked brightly. “Brand-new house, brand-new furniture.”

  “I would have been happy with just a washer and dryer.”

  “And a dog!” Zach added gleefully.

  Milo chuckled. “That’s right, Zach. Next week you and I are going to pick out a nice dog who needs a good home.”