by Lily Foster
Kyle snickered, “Must be nice, Jake, having two hot girls duking it out over you.”
“No, not really.”
“I feel like I’m to blame, Jake. The last time I saw her I’d mentioned in passing that you’d just started your own firm and you were doing very well.”
“That explains her renewed interest.”
“Yeah, and after I mentioned how happy I was that you’d just bought the property in Park Slope, that you were going to be my neighbor,” he laughed, “then she seemed interested in knowing every last detail concerning you.”
“Next time she asks about me make sure to tell her that I’m very happy…with Kasia. Let’s do dinner one night next week. Wait, the week after would actually be better for me. Kasia felt badly that she didn’t get a chance to really talk to Madeline.”
“Definitely.”
About a minute after hanging up with Kyle I got a text from Hannah:
It was sooo good to see u last nite. Having pple for the Giants-Redskins game tomorrow-lots of Hoyas there who miss u. Plz come. 1875 York Ave-8E.
I texted back that I couldn’t make it but by the end of the next week, Hannah had texted me three more times and when I called to basically tell her to stop contacting me, she played it off like she was in the subway and the reception was breaking up. I wasn’t playing this game. I texted what I intended to be our final communication:
It was good to catch up with you last week. Life is busy between work, school, and Kasia. I wish you all the best Hannah. Take care.
The month of November was the busiest I’d ever had. I was juggling projects that spanned from Bay Ridge in Brooklyn, to the Upper West Side of Manhattan, and the Riverdale section of the Bronx. All the while I was supervising the crew who was currently gutting our place in Park Slope. All of my jobs were top priority but I was spending extra time at the brownstone to ensure that everything went smoothly. I would be on site, as many hours as possible, from the time the first room was gutted until the last light switch was installed. It had to be done right and I didn’t want any neighbors inconvenienced by the work, as I hoped to be living next door to these people someday.
I was running at least sixteen hours a day but I was energized by the work. I was careful when I did my hiring, which made supervising easier, and was pleased to see that everyone, from site managers to basic, unskilled laborers was doing their job well. It kept me in the good zone where I was busy but not stretched too thin.
When I got a call in December to price out a job in the Gramercy Park area, I declined at first. I always wanted to have enough clients but not so many that I wasn’t able to give my full attention to the work. Overbooking led to mistakes. When the woman insisted that she could wait for the work to start in the spring, when my schedule opened up, I agreed to give an estimate.
The woman who opened the door to the townhouse looked to be about my age but dressed with a certain level of opulence that made her look older. It wasn’t an attractive look; she seemed like she was being weighed down by the amount of gold she was wearing.
My initial appraisal, looking at just the exterior and the foyer, was that the place was pristine. Like so many of my clients, they didn’t need work done, they just wanted work done. Thank heavens for people like this, I thought, they kept me in business.
“Hi,” she said warmly as she took my hand and led me in, “you must be Jake.”
“Jake Wozniak. I have to say, Mrs. Kildaire, your home looks beautiful from what I can see so far. You mentioned a complete renovation, are you sure you need that?”
“Please call me Ashley. Wait until you see the kitchen, it’s so dated. I’m really just looking for the first floor to be done. New kitchen, the two baths remodeled and the closet off the foyer expanded. I hope this job isn’t too small for you, Jake.”
“No, I didn’t say that. But you do understand that I’m not available to start until the end of March, early April, right?”
As we were walking down the corridor leading to the kitchen, she explained, “A friend recommended you and said it would be worth the wait, that you do beautiful work.”
And who was sitting at the kitchen island, glass of wine in hand, coy grin on her face as we entered the kitchen? “Jake! I told Ashley you were the only one she should use. It’s so hard to get good, reliable people and she’s been burned in the past.” As I stood, stunned, she went on, “You look great, as always, Jake.”
“How are you, Hannah?” I said, teeth clenched.
She was giving me a look that was meant to hold some deeper meaning when she answered, “I’m good now.”
I turned to look around the kitchen, which, by the way, looked to have been remodeled within the past five years, and decided that after I left, I would contact Ashley with the name of another contractor and make it clear to her that I was unavailable. “What are you looking to do in here?”
She went on to show me pictures of a kitchen with a more contemporary design, explaining the need for French doors leading out to her patio, and took me to the bathrooms that she wanted gutted and remodeled. I spent a third of the time I normally would have assessing the job before saying, “Ok. I have a good idea of what you want. I’ll be in touch.”
Ashley was definitely in on this. The doorbell rang with takeout before I could leave politely and then she was asking me to have a bite with them.
Hannah cocked her head and smiled as she did her best to appeal to me, “Jake, please stay for a few minutes and have a beer. I want to hear about everything you’ve been up to.”
I used to love that smile. I used to be crazy about the girl sitting in front of me but that was a lifetime ago, literally. She was a part of my old life and she had no place in my life now. “Ashley, could you excuse us for a minute?” When Ashley left I looked directly at Hannah and there was no smile on my face. “Hannah, I don’t know what you’re trying to pull—”
“I’m not trying to pull anything. I knew Ashley was remodeling and I wanted the work to go your way. Is that so terrible?” Before I could answer, she was within a foot of me and she took my hand as she looked down and said, “Do you know how long I’ve beaten myself up over what I did to you?”
“Hannah—”
“No, Jake, hear me out. I was scared. I was so afraid. I mean, Jesus, I was only twenty. I couldn’t be what you needed and I hated myself for that. I loved you so much.”
“Hannah, I didn’t need you to drop out of school and leave everything behind like I had to do. You know that. But just dropping me, right after I had to bury both of my parents? That was fucking cruel.” I backed away then. “Hannah, what you’re trying to do here? Don’t waste your time. I have a different life now. I moved on from you a long time ago. I love Kasia with everything I have. So don’t beat yourself up over what you did because I’m good, I’m better than good now.” As I turned to walk out I said, “Please tell your friend I’ll send her the name of some good contractors she can call.”
Kasia
By the week before Christmas I was a wreck. Between the crazy hours I was putting in at the store to help with the holiday rush, overseeing the web-based operations, managing production details for the upcoming season’s garments, and worrying over the fact that my period was four days late, I was on the verge of hysteria.
I barely let the thoughts creep into my head but when they did, I would lose track while ringing up a sale or find myself absently staring off into space. I would count the number of months we were together—scarcely eleven—and then feel a sense of dread wash over me at thought of the conversation I knew I was going to have to have with Jakub.
Day five was the worst, and by the time we closed the shop’s doors and I sank into the futon in the back room of the studio, I was in tears. But just then, hallelujah, I felt the tell-tale cramps that I usually despised but I was now doing a happy dance over. After I verified my state and situated myself, I sank back down onto the couch and the tears came again. I was exhausted, I was probably PMS-ing hard, and I w
as…disappointed?
Jake walked in a few minutes later. When he saw me, his smile dropped as he sank down next to me and took my face in his hands, “What’s wrong, moja miɫość?”
When he called me “my love” in Polish, the tears came even harder. He pulled me against his chest and stroked my hair until I could catch my breath. “What’s wrong, Kasia? You’re scaring me.”
Between sniffles and wiping my running nose on my sleeve, I choked everything out. I felt him take in a big breath when I said my period had been late and he squeezed me closer. Then when I told him that everything was ok, that I’d just gotten it, I could feel him lean his head back and let out a breath, presumably very relieved. He kissed my forehead then and said, “Did you think, Kasia, that I would have been upset with you? Upset about it?”
I looked up to him through wet lashes. “Would you have been?”
“Surprised? Yes…but angry? Definitely not angry. I know I sound crazy but I actually feel a little disappointed right now.”
I laughed as I blurted out, “I do too,” before a fresh new wave of tears burst out of me. He held me and rocked me like I was a child, comforting me, as he whispered to me about how much he loved me and how someday we’ll have lots of babies together. I had never felt more loved in my entire life.
After I’d cried my last tear and he’d taken me into the bathroom to wipe the streaks of mascara off of my face, he smiled at me, like he had a good secret to tell me. “I know it’s late, Kasia, but can we a take a ride somewhere? There’s something I want to show you.”
I asked him at least five times during the drive where he was taking me but he just kept shaking his head, smiling. I was so tired that I couldn’t even badger him harder. It was probably nearing eleven by then. He pulled up one of my favorite streets in Park Slope, where well-kept houses were dressed with beautiful Christmas decorations or twinkling blue lights and menorahs for Hannukah. He stopped the truck outside a brownstone that had much of the brick façade removed and permit stickers prominently placed in the windows. A sign indicating that BNR All-City Construction was the contractor working on-site was affixed to the door. I smiled whenever I saw the sign, as it reminded me of Jake’s tender heart; he had chosen BNR to represent his parents’ names, Benedykt and Rachela.
As he led me through the front door, he seemed to grow nervous. “Now I know this place looks awful but you have to imagine how it will be. Kasia, the neighborhood is great, and the schools are the best. There’s a small backyard and it’s even got a driveway, Kasia. Oh, and it’s only a fifteen or twenty minute drive to the shop.”
I was speechless. I must have been just looking around, dumbfounded. He shook his head, “Too much? I didn’t know how to tell you. I know buying a place with us in mind was insane.” He shook his head again. “I’m doing this all wrong but here goes.” He kissed my hands as he lowered himself onto one knee and looked up to me with pure love in his eyes. “I know that I want you to be my wife, Kasia. If you had been pregnant, I would have been…overjoyed. The thought of you having my baby makes me feel…” He wiped at his eyes before he looked up at me and went on. “I didn’t buy you a ring yet, so the timing is all messed up but…will you marry me, Kasia?”
I sank down next to him on my knees, hugged him so tight around his neck that I probably risked cutting off his air supply, and said, “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! I’ll marry you, Jakub!”
Epilogue
Jake
Getting to the corner store used to be so easy, I thought, as I was balancing one on my shoulders, pushing one in the stroller, and nervously watching one ride recklessly alongside me on his scooter.
We were giving Mom time to rest this Sunday morning. That was our routine. It was a joke, actually, because when we got home, not only would Kasia not be resting, but she would already have the house straightened and there would be a giant stack of blueberry pancakes waiting to be devoured by us.
In the five years we had been married, Kasia had blessed me with three beautiful children and a life that was better than any man could ever imagine for himself. Little Jakub was four now, Tomasz was three, and little Rachel was just five months. Our life never really slowed down enough for my taste—there were times when I just wanted to lock us all in, not answer the phone and just be with them and no one else—but life with Kasia would always be a moving train and I was ok with that.
Kasia’s business had taken off so quickly after some of the better-known, specialty retailers started carrying her pieces, that licensing offers had started coming her way. Now, while she maintained some measure of creative control over the brand, the day-to-day operations were no longer her responsibility. Sweet Betty Threads was, essentially, no longer her company. Before cutting the deal, Kasia made sure that the employees that had been with her since the beginning were offered iron-clad contracts with the parent company, ensuring they would be well taken care of.
Kasia now worked out of the home studio I had built for her. She never stopped. She gave mothering our three children her full effort but then, in what little spare time she had, was steadily building a new brand, Betty Bumps, her maternity wear line.
Kasia has never looked sexier to me than when she was pregnant. She swore it was her designs, but it wasn’t. The thought of her with life, part of my life, growing inside of her was the biggest turn-on ever.
The children went happily between our house and Mama and Tata’s, and they were doted on by their uncles and Aunt Karolina. They saw a lot of their aunt who, now twenty-three, was alternately making me very proud and driving me crazy.
Since finishing school last year, Kara had lived with us. In another move that showed me how much she loved me, Kasia suggested we renovate the basement and turn it into an apartment for Kara. This allowed me to have my eye on Kara but it also drove me insane when she stayed out late in the city after work with her friends or her boyfriend, whom I wasn’t sure I liked.
We spent most of our free time with family; little Jakub and Tomasz asked to see Michal and Sophia’s boys practically every single day, as soon as they woke up. It was cute. But we were still close with a small circle of our old friends. We saw Kyle and Madeline a lot, as they were in the Slope also. We saw Caleb and Rene, Tom and Darcy, Jenna and Dan, and Caitlin and Mick regularly also. When we were all together at the big house we rented on Cape May for a week every summer, it was mayhem, with a total of seven boys and five girls between us.
There were times when I couldn’t believe my good fortune—couldn’t believe how happy I was now. I thought of my parents often and missed them when I would see our children with Kasia’s parents. I knew they would be happy looking down, though, seeing how things had turned out for me and for Karolina. But I also thought of my parents as Kasia and I paid off the mortgage on our home early, when we set up college funds for the children, when we purchased life insurance, and when we wrote out a will with every conceivable worst-case scenario planned out.
Kasia teased, calling me Dr. Doomsday sometimes, but I felt such a crushing, overwhelming sense of love for her and for our children that the thought of them ever struggling, ever suffering, could keep me up at night.
Taking care of them was something I’d never take lightly.
They were my life.
Kasia
I laughed to myself as I made the short, thirty minute drive down to Darcy and Tom’s beach house. Dylan and I were still like two divorced parents who shared custody of our good friends. In a roundabout way, I would find out if he was going to be at the smaller gatherings or he would find out beforehand if I was going to be there. One of us would politely decline and Darcy knew better than to push. It was just better this way.
The few times there were larger events, like Brian and Trish’s wedding, running into one other was inevitable but you could lose yourself more easily in a crowd of two hundred.
Today was the Baptism of Tom and Darcy’s fourth child, a girl, Clare Rebecca Donovan. Jake had to tend to an emerge
ncy at a big job he had taken on for a very particular and demanding client, my father. I’d left Rachel with my mother but had the boys with me.
When we pulled up, I could barely cut then engine before they were jumping out of their car seats and running into the house, with me trailing behind. They loved the happy chaos of being with all of the kids and Darcy and Tom’s house was dream for boys. They had a house just a few off the beach with a huge, fenced-in backyard. There was a treehouse, a jungle gym, soccer nets, and a basketball hoop—like I said, a little boy’s dream.
I felt so relaxed when I was here. These women had become my closest friends, through Darcy. Hanging out with her, Rene, Caitlin, Jenna, Maureen, Darcy’s mom, and Tom’s mother was always fun. They were an interesting and supportive group of women.
After Dylan and I split up there were some casualties in my social life. Anna and I, of course, rarely saw one another but we would send occasional texts when she saw something about me in a trade paper or I heard mention of her work as an assistant at Kate’s architecture firm; we both followed one another’s careers. Another hard loss was Brian and Trish. I think Trish felt guilty that she’d become close to Cecilia, which was silly on her part. I’d heard from Bernadette that they often traveled together, the two couples. I’d never disliked Cecilia; I could see how she and Trish became friends.
As for Bernadette, she lived in Portland now so we basically communicated by email and text only. The one person from college I had remained closest to, surprisingly, was Valerie. Val was still doing her own thing, living single in coastal South Carolina community where there were a lot of other creative types like her. Val’s debut novel had done so well that she had the freedom to pursue writing full time. Two or three times a year she came up to New York to meet with her publisher and editors in person and when she did, she always stayed with us. She was still into long distance relationships; her current flame was one of her former graduate professors from Emory.
“Mama, I want to bring Rachel a shell,” Tomasz pleaded at the end of the day as I was zipping their coats, getting ready to leave. It was early December but not too cold so I agreed to walk down to the shore before we left.