If These Walls Could Talk

by Bettye Griffin

  “We’re going to have a barbecue to celebrate, and you’ll all be invited,” Veronica said generously.

  The Lees shared congratulatory handshakes with the riders getting off, then moved forward to accept the good wishes of their fellow riders. Dawn and Camille congratulated them, as did Milo and Reuben. “How about stopping by the house tonight for a drink to celebrate?” Camille offered.

  “Thanks, Camille,” Veronica said, “but the girls are in the car, and Norman and I need to go over some things. It’s sweet of you to invite us. Maybe another time.” She shrugged. “It’s hard to get an evening out when you don’t have anyone to watch your kids for you.”

  “I’m sorry we didn’t get to know each other better, Veronica,” Dawn said, feeling a little sad.

  Veronica feigned indignation. “This isn’t good-bye, Dawn. I hope we’ll see each other often. And I certainly expect to see you and Milo at our party.”

  Norman pulled at her sleeve. “C’mon, Vee. We don’t want to hold up the bus. Everybody wants to get home.”

  Dawn beamed. “Thanks, Veronica. We’d love to come, and we’re happy to be included, since we’re the new kids on the block.”

  As the bus pulled out of the station Dawn watched Veronica and Norman walking to their car with their arms around each other. They looked so happy, and why wouldn’t they be? No more getting up at three in the morning to get the first bus of the day and getting home after seven at night. Even done just three or four days a week instead of five, it had to feel a little like getting out of jail.

  “I wish that was us,” Dawn said wistfully to Milo as they drove home. “Two weeks from now they’ll be able to drive a half hour or so to work while we’re still getting up to catch that damn bus. And listen to all those retired folks singing show tunes on matinee Wednesdays.”

  “I wish it was us, too.”

  “Why don’t you look and see if you can get a job at that hospital? Everybody needs programmers. Hell, I’ll check their Web site myself. They might need someone to run their payroll department.” But even as Dawn spoke she knew the low likelihood of getting a decent position, as she had no previous hospital experience. The most she’d probably be able to get would be a clerical position, and she’d be crazy to take that kind of pay cut. Plus, she wasn’t sure she’d want to work a full-time schedule squeezed into three or four days a week.

  The Lees

  Each week Norman attended the free do-it-yourself workshops at the Home Depot in Stroudsburg, and Veronica and the girls had come along this time. She had already picked up a few things at the Target in the shopping center out front, bought the kids ice cream at the snack bar, and was now enjoying herself as she walked along the aisles of the home improvement store looking at all the modern fixtures. How nice it would be to have a kitchen with nice light-colored cabinets instead of those dreary dark brown cupboards they had now that made the room seem so dim, even in bright sunshine.

  When the girls tired of looking at model kitchens and pedestal sinks, Veronica led them to the paint and wallpaper area. They selected a wallpaper runner for the girls’ room. Their room was painted lilac, but the floral runner would provide a nice break in the solid walls. Norman had probably learned enough by now to be able to glue it to the wall without it being crooked. He’d really benefited from those free classes. He’d already put in a beautiful new faucet in the kitchen. Today he was learning how to do flooring. Maybe they could tear up that dreadful burnt-orange shag carpet themselves and put down hardwood and area rugs.

  Their house, while certainly well-built, comfortable, and up to all codes, needed cosmetic updating to look more twenty-first century. After slashing expenses to the bone to pay down much of their credit card debt, they’d been happy to find a house with three bedrooms for the same money they would have paid for the two-bedroom they initially fell in love with. The house they bought was newer, although it hadn’t been modernized, like the first house they wanted. Veronica regretted that it had no fireplaces—her dream of making love to Norman on a bearskin rug went up in smoke—but she had to agree they would get more use out of a guest bedroom. Plus, she liked the way the house was laid out, with the entire second floor dedicated to the master suite, including a full bath.

  As their sales agent had pointed out, the Cape Cod structure had great potential. They’d already done quite a bit with paint, and to get more decorating ideas she went to open houses and model homes. At her suggestion, Norman changed all the doorknobs on the bedroom doors from those old-fashioned knobs that looked like oversized faux diamonds to gracefully curved brass handles. That small step went a long way toward a more modern look.

  She just wished they could do the whole house over right away, especially after seeing what Camille and Reuben had done to their place. The Currys had such a lovely home, all modern, with brand-new furniture. She had mentioned it to Norman on the way home from the barbecue, and he remarked that they’d probably bought all those new furnishings on credit. “Remember, misusing our credit almost prevented us from buying a house in the first place. We don’t want to use credit anymore unless we absolutely have to,” he reminded her. “In the meantime, our stove might be old, but it cooks food just fine.”

  “So how’d it go?” Veronica asked when Norman emerged from the workshop.

  “Pretty good. I want to pick up some supplies before we leave. I thought I’d start by tearing up the carpet in the dining room and laying down hardwood.”

  “Can you get that done this weekend?”

  “If I can’t, so what? I’ll finish it next week, or the week after that. That’s the beauty of doing the work yourself. Not only is the price right, but you can work at your own pace.”

  “But we’re having a party next weekend, remember? Duane is coming, and so are our sisters.” They hadn’t seen any of them since they’d moved. “We want the house to look nice for company, don’t we?”

  “Lucy and Valerie are family, and Duane might as well be. As far as our guests are concerned, they’ll understand that we’re working on the house. It’s not like we’ll have lumber piled up in the middle of the living room, Veronica.”

  He had a point, she decided. It would probably look better for them to be in a state of updating than to give the impression of being perennially stuck in a time warp thirty-five years behind the times. Of course, Norman, being a man, didn’t care about such things, but she did.

  Several other guests danced to the old tune by Stevie Wonder in the Lee’s basement, but Dawn sat it out, nursing a Rum and Coke and sneaking peeks at her surroundings.

  Camille leaned toward her and whispered, “Are you as surprised as I am?”

  Dawn flinched. She hadn’t thought anyone would notice her look of disdain, and it embarrassed her to have been noticed, but in truth she was surprised. She’d known Veronica and Norman had bought a home in Mount Pocono, but she’d thought it was in a new development, like Arlington Acres. The Lee’s home was easily thirty-five years old, maybe even older. The carpets were actually shag, burnt-orange upstairs and multicolored, like confetti, here in the basement. The kitchen appliances clearly dated to the seventies, in that avocado green color so popular at that time. The hall bath was actually done in pink—pink tiles, pink sink and toilet, pink tub. She felt like she’d died and gone to Graceland.

  “I expected something different,” she admitted, speaking just as quietly. “It’s not Arlington Acres, that’s for sure.”

  “Hey, Vee, we need more ginger ale,” Norman yelled from the foot of the stairs.

  Camille laughed. “Norman, I’m sure she can’t hear you. I’ll go up and tell her.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Dawn said. “Maybe we can help her with whatever she’s doing. I’m sure she can use a hand.”

  They walked past a dancing Norman and climbed the stairs, Camille leading the way. They emerged in a corner of the kitchen. “Veronica, Norman says he needs more ginger ale,” she said.

  “Can we help you do anythi
ng?” Dawn offered.

  “Thanks, but I’m just about ready. I wanted to put out the food and punch.” Veronica had lined the white speckled Formica countertops with large, foil-covered lasagna pans, also made of foil. She reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a two-liter bottle of ginger ale. “Would one of you mind bringing this downstairs? And tell Norman to let everyone know they can eat.”

  “Sure, I’ll do it,” Camille said.

  She took off down the stairs, bottle in hand.

  “What can I do, Veronica?” Dawn offered.

  “Can you get the salad dressing out of the fridge?”

  “Sure.” Dawn opened the refrigerator, which, like the stove, dishwasher, and range hood, looked ancient. The cold air that instantly chilled her hands told her that, old as it was, it did its job of keeping their food fresh. Several different flavors of salad dressing were on the door. “All of them?”

  “Yes, so there’ll be something for everybody’s taste. Let’s see . . . We’ll need butter, too, for the rolls, and mustard. It’s all in there.”

  “Okay, I’ll get it.”

  “We’re going to update the kitchen in a couple of months,” Veronica said suddenly, just as Camille reentered the kitchen after her quick trip to the basement.

  Dawn bit her lower lip guiltily. Had Veronica been reading her mind?

  Camille’s breathing halted for a few seconds. What would make Veronica make a statement like that out of the blue? Surely Dawn hadn’t revealed the content of their private conversation when she thought she was alone with Veronica . . . ?

  “I can’t wait,” Veronica continued. With her petite build and casual attire of T-shirt and jeans, her relaxed hair parted on the side and falling to just above her shoulders in a slight flip, she looked like a high school kid. “This house was built in 1966. We knew it needed modernizing when we bought it, but for us it made sense. The house is solidly built—the wiring, plumbing, foundation—and the roof was replaced two years ago. All the appliances work fine, so we can replace them at our convenience. Norman wanted to wait until after we got our transfers, when we wouldn’t have to buy bus passes anymore.”

  Camille had held her breath as long as she could, and now her shoulders relaxed. There’d been no breach of confidence; Veronica was merely making conversation with Dawn. Maybe she felt she needed to defend this pleasant but old house. Camille doubted Veronica had been a guest at the Young home—she had yet to be invited there herself—but she’d seen model homes at Arlington Acres and knew how nice and modern they all were. Maybe Veronica even suspected that she and Dawn would privately wrinkle their noses at her house, which, of course, they had.

  Camille felt that same twinge of uneasiness she always got when she thought about the larger monthly mortgage payment for the lakefront lot and larger home they’d chosen. Maybe the feeling that their champagne taste would lead to trouble would go away once and for all now that she’d gotten her raise. Like Reuben had said, it would all work out.

  She hoped.

  “I think that’s smart, Veronica,” Dawn was saying. “I wish Milo and I could get good-paying jobs locally.”

  “Maybe you will.”

  “I doubt it. Besides, I’ve worked for the same company for so long ever since I finished high school. Part of me would be scared to leave, unless I really felt I had a secure future.” She slowly shook her head. “And who feels secure after 9/11?”

  “And that mess at Enron,” Camille added.

  “I feel terribly sorry for those people who lost their pensions. And every time the bus pulls into Port Authority, or when I get on the subway, I say a prayer asking to get out of there alive,” Veronica admitted.

  “You’re lucky you won’t have to do it anymore.” Dawn wiped some crumbs off the counter and dropped them in the trash. “Hey, do you guys have to pay for trash collection out here? This isn’t a subdivision, is it?”

  “It’s not a subdivision, but we do pay for trash collection. The service picks up once a week.”

  “But you don’t have any association fees or anything like that, huh?”

  “No, none of that stuff. That was one reason Norman liked the idea of buying outside of a subdivision.”

  “Y’all knew about all the fees beforehand?” Dawn asked, surprise in her voice.

  Veronica’s face wrinkled in thought. “Now that you mention it, I don’t think any of the salespeople brought it up. But Norman and I knew from a home buyer’s workshop we attended at our credit union in the city that most developments charge for upkeep of common areas, so we asked about it.” She shrugged. “We looked at a couple of subdivisions, and I wonder if any of them would have told us about it if we hadn’t asked. I’m inclined to think not. They were all a bunch of eager beavers, anxious to make a sale, especially the guy at Arlington Acres.” She snapped her fingers. “Eric Nylund, that was his name. Funny how it just came to me this second. Remember, Camille? We talked about him before, but I couldn’t remember his name.”

  “You had Eric, too?” Camille asked. “He must have been gunning for salesperson of the month, the way he was pushing those lakefront lots. And of course, Reuben and I ended up buying one.”

  Dawn chimed in. “Us, too. Eric greeted Milo and me the moment we walked into the sales office like he was thrilled to see us,” she recalled. “He said we would get a free fireplace and deck if we agreed to buy that day. Milo and I felt we hit the jackpot. We’d barely been in Pennsylvania for an hour, although we’d planned on spending the day out here looking around.”

  Veronica stared at them incredulously. “You mean that you and Milo bought a house the first day you were out here?”

  “Uh . . . yes.” Dawn’s face wore a “What’s wrong with that?” expression. “We figured it would be either too good to be true or something we could manage, and it wouldn’t take anymore than one day to figure that out.” She paused. “Didn’t you?”

  “Norman and I took a three-day weekend to check things out. Lorinda and Simone came with us.”

  Camille shrugged. “We bought in one day, too. When Reuben and I saw the commercial we talked about it for hours. We decided that we would go for it, provided the houses really were as affordable as the commercial said. Our only concern was about the kind of reception we’d get from the white folks out here. That turned out not to be a problem.” She giggled. “It’s a cinch the neighbors wouldn’t have been that happy to see us in, say, Riverdale.”

  “Norman was worried about that, too, especially when we started looking here in Mount Pocono,” Veronica said. “But, as it turns out, there are more of our people out here than in Tobyhanna.”

  The door to the basement opened. “I hear y’all got good eats up here,” one of their fellow commuters said cheerfully. Rich Wellington, a normally conservative accountant, had clearly consumed a few drinks.

  “Yes,” said his wife, Donna, playfully slapping his arm, “and you need to line your stomach with some of it to soak up all that alcohol.”

  “Well, everything’s out and waiting for you,” Veronica said. “We were about to send a search party for you, but I had a feeling the music had something to do with it.”

  “Couldn’t think about eating until we finished getting our groove on,” Reuben said, swinging his hips for emphasis. “But now we’re ready to chow down.”

  Veronica went to stand next to Norman as their guests helped themselves. He looked at the plentiful spread. “You did good, Vee.”

  “Thanks. I think it’s going well, don’t you?”

  He kissed her cheek. “Absolutely.”

  She felt proud, of both herself and of Norman. A successful party meant good music, and good food and drink, which were easy to provide; but most of all it meant good people, which were far more difficult to obtain. Fortunately, they’d met nice people on the bus, couples their own age, and while they came from different ethnic backgrounds, they all wanted the same things out of life: a piece of the American dream for themselves and their ch
ildren.

  Even their friend Duane London had come out from the city with his latest girlfriend to spend the night. So did Norman’s only sister, Lucy, and Veronica’s sister, Valerie, who brought her twelve-year-old daughter, Essence. Lucy and Valerie would bunk on the pull-out sofa in the living room, and Essence would sleep on a trundle bed in the girls’ room.

  She watched as Duane teased Valerie about her ability to eat chicken down to the bone so it didn’t look like there had ever been any meat on it. Duane was on the thin side, but his six foot three height next to Valerie’s petite five two frame almost made him appear like a bully. Only Valerie’s good-natured dismissal of his ribbing prevented the scene from looking like harassment.

  “Have you ever thought about entering one of those hot dog eating contests?” Duane asked Valerie. “You’d probably walk off with first prize.”

  “And win, what, a lifetime supply of hot dogs for my indigestion? Forget it. Besides, just because I can clean chicken bones doesn’t mean I can wolf down twenty hot dogs in a minute.”

  Duane’s girlfriend, whose name Veronica couldn’t remember, tugged at his arm. “Duane, I think you should leave her alone.”

  “Aw, it wouldn’t be the same if I didn’t tease Valerie a little. She’d think the real me had been invaded by body snatchers or something.”

  Veronica smiled. Duane’s latest flame clearly felt threatened by his easy camaraderie with Valerie. Duane and Valerie had known each other for years. One thing Veronica felt certain of—this woman would be gone from Duane’s life in another month or so. If anything, her clucking would shorten her tenure as his lady of the moment. She no longer felt badly about hardly remembering any of their names.

  Duane, who had helped them move their belongings from New York, would be their first overnight guest to sleep in their spare room. He had driven back to New York the afternoon they moved, since they hadn’t yet shopped for a bed to put in the third bedroom. Veronica couldn’t think of a person she’d rather have for that distinction. He’d been a good friend for many years. It was Duane who’d heard about the opening in their Washington Heights apartment building when they were desperately looking for a larger place. He’d helped with that move, too.