A Mile in My Flip-Flops

by Melody Carlson

  He kind of laughs. “Well, I don’t want to marry her to be my nurse.”

  “I know. But sometimes a woman has more sense when it comes to dietary needs. Betty seems to understand things like fat and cholesterol.”

  “Speaking of fat and cholesterol, I’m hungry. How about I take my favorite girl and new business partner out to lunch?”

  “Sounds great.”

  At Outback Steakhouse, after I talk Dad into ordering a heart-healthy meal, we discuss the house. I tell him about all the things I found yesterday and how I even opened up a credit account.

  “I’m not so sure I like the sound of that. You don’t want to be going over your budget, Gretchen.”

  “No, I just thought it might be handy.”

  “The worst thing would be to end upside down with this house.”

  “Upside down?”

  “Putting more money into it than it’s worth.”

  “Oh…” I recall how some people have done that on House Flippers. “Well, Dad, if we decide to move forward, I’ll be really careful. I promise.” I smile and hope privately that everything works out and we don’t have to cancel the loan.

  “How about if I pick up the key from Judy tomorrow,” he offers, “and I can do a thorough walk-through while you’re at work? Then you can meet me there as soon as school gets out, and we can discuss this whole thing rationally. And we’ll still have time to rescind the loan … if we need to.”

  “That’s probably the wise thing to do,” I agree. But to be honest, I don’t agree. I know it’s totally irrational, totally beyond reason, but I don’t care what’s wrong with it; I so want to flip that house. If a house ever needed to be flipped, the one on Lilac Lane is begging for it. We would be doing the whole neighborhood an enormous favor to turn that place around. But I don’t admit to this. I feel fairly certain that Dad, a savvy businessman, would not get it. He’d think I was making a foolish decision based completely on emotion. And maybe he’d be right.

  “You know that I’m not one to put much stock in dreams,” he finally says to me in a very serious tone, “but maybe the one I had last night … well, maybe it was meant to be a warning. Maybe God was trying to tell us something.”

  I consider this. “Yeah, I suppose that could be.” But the truth is, I don’t really care about Dad’s dream at the moment. The selfish truth is, I’m not willing to give up my own dream yet.

  It’s pretty bad in there,” Dad tells me as soon as I show up at the house on Monday afternoon. Nothing like an encouraging word to start off our time at the house. His red pickup, with “Hanover Construction” still painted on the sides, is parked in the driveway. The tailgate is open like a bench, and he is sitting on it when I arrive.

  “You mean the smell?” I ask. Riley tugs at his leash to get to my dad, like he thinks Dad may be hiding one of those yummy ribs in his back pocket. Maybe it was a mistake to bring my dog here today, but I felt sorry for him being all cooped up.

  Dad shakes his head. “No, I don’t mean the smell. Although that’s bad too.”

  “What do you mean then?” I ask. “Specifically.”

  He scratches his chin. “Boy, I hardly know where to begin. There’s dry rot in one of the bathrooms and the laundry room. Looks like all the plumbing fixtures need replacing. What I could see of the hardwood floors wasn’t promising. I can hardly think of anything that’s good about it.”

  “Really?” I feel an unexpected lump in my throat. “It’s that bad? Like completely hopeless?”

  “I think it’d take more cash than you have to restore it. And even if you could, Gretch, this is a really tough house to take on for your first flipping experience. I wouldn’t wish a place like this on my worst enemy.”

  “So that’s it?” I say hopelessly. “We just give up.”

  “It’s not like giving up. It’s simply being sensible. There’s got to be another house out there—something that’s not in this kind of shape. The renters really messed it up.” He sighs. “That’s what comes from trying to manage property from out of the country. The seller may not realize what a mess this is.”

  “According to Judy, they knew it was bad. The wife was happy that someone was going to fix it up.”

  “Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but that will have to be someone besides us.” He glances at his watch now. “There’s just enough time to make it to the finance place. You want to give them a call and tell them I’m on my way?”

  I nod sadly. I feel totally defeated, but I trust my dad’s judgment. “Yeah… Do I need to come?”

  “No.” He digs his keys out of his pocket. “It only takes one signature to cancel the loan. But I’ll assure them that we’ll be back. I’m sure we’ll find another, more appropriate house in time. Meanwhile, you can head over to talk with Judy. I’m sure she’ll understand. Tell her that we’d like her help in locating the next house but that it’ll have to be in better shape than this one.”

  “Okay.” I pull Riley’s leash. “Let’s go, boy.”

  “And really,” Dad calls out as he gets into his pickup, “I know it’s sad, but believe me, we should be thankful that we can get out of this nightmare.”

  “Yeah, right,” I mutter as I force my unwilling dog back into the car. He’s looking at me like What’s wrong? Like he wanted to stay and run around in the yard. Not that the yard is ready for him yet. Now I guess it never will be. I try to think positively, like my dad, telling myself we probably did just dodge a bullet. Even so, it’s hard to give up the dream of renovating that house.

  “You’re serious?” says Judy after I quickly explain the situation.

  “I wish I wasn’t.”

  “But it’s a great deal, Gretch. Fixed up, that house could make you good money.”

  “My dad says there too many things wrong with it. He’s stopping the loan right now.”

  She looks puzzled. “Well, I’m surprised he can stop the loan at this stage of the game. I sent the works, including the check, on Friday afternoon by FedEx overnight delivery to the sellers. They would certainly have it in their hands by now. I’m not sure we can get out of this gracefully, not to mention ethically.”

  “Well my dad seems to be pretty confident about the whole thing. But I really am sorry to put you through all this,” I glance outside to make sure that Riley is still in my car since the top is down. He’s never jumped out before, but just to be sure, I tied his leash to the door handle. “And Dad said to tell you that we’d appreciate your help in finding another, uh, more suitable house.”

  She nods. “I’m not sure what the sellers will think of this. But at least I won’t have a problem selling that particular house again. I had three other buyers asking about it by the end of last week.”

  I reluctantly hand her the house key, then look outside just in time to see my big brown dog literally hanging himself from the passenger door of my car. “Oh no!” I cry out. “My dog’s trying to commit dog-icide.”

  “What?”

  I point out the window as I run for the door. Judy follows, and together we manage to untangle Riley’s mess. By the time we finish, she’s laughing. “What a crazy dog!”

  Just then my cell phone rings. “Can you hold his leash a minute?” I ask as I do a juggling act just to get into my purse. It’s my dad on the phone, and he sounds a little upset.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “The loan has already gone through…”

  “What about the three-day cancellation thing?”

  “Apparently they count Saturday as a business day.”

  “What does this mean?”

  “That the sellers cashed the check and we now own a wreck of a house.”

  “That’s great!” I’m jumping up and down in the parking lot, smiling at Judy as she holds on to the end of Riley’s leash.

  “You think that’s great?” My dad does not sound the least bit convinced or happy.

  “I know it looks hopeless right now, Dad, but I am really excit
ed about this, and it must have been for a reason. I know we can make it work.”

  “I don’t know how you possibly know any of this, Gretchen. I just pray to God that you’re not wrong.”

  “Want to meet back over there?” I ask happily. No amount of Dad’s discouragement can bring me down right now. Plus, I really believe at this moment that God would have closed the door if he didn’t want us to have the house. Instead, he closed the door to getting rid of it. “We can do a walk-through together. Maybe it’s not as bad as you think.”

  “I really hope so.”

  “See you in about fifteen minutes, Dad.” Then I hang up, and as I relieve Judy of my dog, I tell her the good news.

  She seems pleased. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure how your dad was going to put the brakes on this deal after the three-day rescission period had passed, but I didn’t want to be the one to rain on your parade until I spoke to the sellers.”

  “Hey, I couldn’t be happier,” I tell her. “I know Dad’s a little worried, but I really think we can do this. Somehow we will make it work. I really believe it’s going to be a great house by the time we’re done.” I’m imagining granite countertops, cherry cabinets, sleek stainless appliances, and gleaming wood floors.

  She hands the key back to me now. “Well, here you go, Gretchen. Congratulations. And let me know if you want my help when it comes time to list it.”

  “For sure,” I say as I open the passenger door. Then, using both hands, I shove a reluctant Riley back into my little car.

  Okay, I feel a small stab of concern as I drive back to the house. Am I completely selfish? I’m fully aware that my dad’s condo is on the line here, and if this house flip goes flop, I will be extremely upset for him as well as for myself. Consequently, I know I should be taking this all very seriously. But I think it’s because I truly believe we can do this that I’m not that worried. I guess I’m feeling more confident than usual that God really cares about me and about this project. And with his help, I think we can pull off the impossible.

  Dad gets back to the house right after I pull up, and I don’t need to see his expression to know that he is not pleased. He slowly walks over to where Im letting Riley out of the car—no more hanging-dog tricks.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I say to Dad. Then I hug him. “I have a really good feeling about this. I think it’s going to turn out to be a miracle.”

  He frowns. “It’s going to take a miracle, Gretchen.”

  “I know. Anyway, I’ll tie Riley out here,” I say as I wrap the leash around a post that supports a handrail near the driveway.

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t let a dog I liked in there.”

  “Not yet anyway.”

  “And not in that backyard either,” warns Dad. “Don’t let Riley go back there until we get a cleanup crew in. It’s not safe.” Dad offers a small laugh, and I’m glad.

  “Right.” I smile. I unlock the front door, bracing myself for the smell as I push it open. “Maybe we should open up the other windows and doors before a walk-through,” I say. “Let it air out a little.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” he says.

  So I go around to unlock and open the back door. I can hear Dad stomping around inside, jerking open a window and using words that come as close to swearing as I’ve ever heard from him. I can tell he is very unhappy with this house. Hopefully, he’ll change his tune after we get a few things done. Then, thinking I can’t deal with the smell any longer, I pull out the scarf that I tucked in my purse and tie it around my nose like a bandit. Hopefully, Dad will think this is funny … not depressing.

  But Dad ignores my little costume, simply taking me from room to room and pointing out flaw after flaw. “This whole bathroom will need to be torn out,” he says as he bounces on the floor so hard that I’m afraid he might go straight through it. “And probably part of the other bathroom too, at least around the sink area anyway.”

  Finally I can’t take the smell anymore. “I need some air,” I gasp. Then I hear a loud crash, and the next thing I know Riley is trying to get in through the front door, dragging the whole post and handrail behind him. Fortunately the pieces of wood keep him from getting inside.

  “Bad dog,” I scold him as I go out and work on disconnecting him from the rotten wood.

  “I don’t know about that.” Dad joins me outside, cracking a small smile. “I think Riley has got it right. He’s a demo dog. He knows that the best answer would be to demolish the whole house and start over.”

  “Dad!”

  He tosses a piece of broken handrail into the weed patch of a front yard, then scratches his head. “You’re really excited about taking on a stinking pile of crud like this?”

  “It’s hard to explain,” I admit. “I know it probably seems crazy, but I really do want to do this. And I don’t want you to feel like it’s your responsibility,” I add quickly. “Like I said before, I want you as a consultant only, Dad. I don’t expect you to lift a finger.”

  He makes a grunting noise like he’s not convinced.

  “I’m serious,” I say sternly.

  “Well, for starters I plan to get a cleanup crew in here ASAP.” He frowns at me. “It’s a good thing one of us speaks Spanish. The best crew I’ve ever worked with is a group of guys who speak very little English.”

  “You’ll never let me off the hook for taking German instead, will you?”

  He shakes his head. “We practically live in Mexico, Gretchen, and yet you picked German for your foreign language.”

  “Well, it all started with this certain cute guy in high school,” I admit to him for the first time. Taking German has always been a bone of contention between my dad and me. I figure, on a day like today, maybe it’s a good time to clear the air.

  “Huh?” He looks surprised.

  I nod sheepishly. “Yep, he was a senior, and I was a sophomore. He had this great curly blond hair and big blue eyes. His name was Todd Vincent, and he was an academic assistant in the first-year German class. I had the worst crush on him. So I transferred from first-year Spanish and took German instead.”

  “I always knew there was more to that.” He actually laughs now. “So what happened to this Todd fellow?”

  “He went to Germany as an exchange student at Christmastime. I never saw him again.”

  “But you kept taking German anyway?”

  I shrug. “Yeah, well, I didn’t want to have to start over with Spanish by then.”

  “Well, anyway, I’ll order a couple of Dumpsters and get a work crew in here to clean this place out. Hopefully ripping out that carpet will take care of some of that smell.”

  “It’d be great to be able to go through the house more slowly,” I admit. “It’s awfully hard to focus on the renovations when I feel like I’m about to hurl.”

  “I’ll have the guys clean up the yard some too. Just remove the trash and do some sanitizing so that Riley can roam around without any threat to his health. Is he current on all his shots?” He is.

  Dad pats Riley on the head. “Okay, Demo Dog, we’ll get this place cleaned up and safe for you. Then we’ll set you loose on it, and you can tear out anything you like. We can use the help.” Dad tells me about a few other things he’d like to take care of soon. And the more he talks, the more I think that maybe he’s getting into this just a little.

  We lock up the house and go our separate ways. I try not to feel discouraged, and I especially hope that Dad isn’t preparing for financial demise. He obviously knows more about houses and construction than I ever will, but more than anything, I would love to prove him wrong on this one.

  There’s trouble in Paradise,” Dad informs me over the phone Friday as I leave school for the day. It’s been four days and four Dumpsters since my dad’s cleanup crew started emptying the house of all the trash and debris. And yesterday I started to feel really hopeful. Not only was that nasty carpeting and all the linoleum totally removed, but the smell had decreased significantly as well. I had commended
the crew for doing such a great job, and in my best Spanish, which is admittedly lame, I presented them with a case of cold Sierra Mist and a box of cleaning supplies and asked them to scrub down the surprisingly sturdy kitchen cabinets. There appeared to be at least a decade’s worth of grease and grime coating the wood, which Dad says is probably alder. After doing a patch test, I could see that the wood has a rather nice grain. With some refinishing and new nickel hardware, along with sleek granite countertops, I think the cabinets will look great. Plus reusing the cabinets will save us enough money to nearly cover the expense of a new roof.

  “What do you mean?” I ask Dad as I walk to my car.

  “Come on over, and we’ll discuss it when you get here,” he says stiffly.

  “Let me pick up Riley first, and I’ll be right over.” I want to tell Dad that I don’t expect him to be at the house every single day and that he better not be doing any of the actual labor, but I’ve said it so many times that I’m starting to get sick of hearing it myself. As I drive home, I wonder what’s gone wrong now. Hopefully it’s nothing too big. I’ve already noticed how Dad can overblow things when it comes to this house. Like it’s a personal vendetta—him against the house. Or maybe it’s simply his way to remind me that he was opposed to this project from the start … and that he expects it to turn out badly.

  I hurry up to my apartment, change into my “renovation” outfit: a T-shirt, overalls, and Havaianas rubber flip-flops. Then after I leash up Riley and allow him a quick pit stop in the park, we’re on our way to the house.

  Dad meets me in the driveway with an impossible-to-read expression. When I ask him what’s up, he simply says, “Come and see for yourself.”

  “No hug or anything,” I tease him. “Must be pretty bad.

  “You can be the judge of that.” Then he offers me a halfhearted side hug, nudging me up the driveway.

  I glance up at the house now. It looks much like it did yesterday. Nothing appears fallen or crumbled…no huge catastrophe that I can see.

  We go inside, and I let Riley off his leash to explore. Then Dad leads me to the kitchen, and I notice the room looks strangely spacious. Like something has changed.