by Bria Marche
“Of course she can, she already is. She needs love and attention, that’s all.”
“You called the Victorian a she. How come?”
“Anything beautiful is a she. An airplane, a ship, or the Victorian. They’re all she’s.”
“I love that! She is going to have the exact colors as the Gingerbread Inn. She’s almost the same style with the beautiful turret and spindles everywhere. There, it’s settled. The Victorian, I mean she, will be painted light mustard and coral, with dark blue window trim. The roof will have charcoal gray shingles, just like in the picture. Now, I need to hire a painter and a roofer. Mia, will you help me pick someone out?”
“Of course, Sasha. Why don’t we go ahead and order lunch? We’ll work on that later.”
Mia worried about Vic. Sensing Mia was staring at her, was enough to make Vic glance up and look her way. The concern was written across Mia’s face. She raised her eyebrows at Vic as if to say, “We’ll talk later, okay?”
Vic gave an affirmative nod and calmed down enough to apologize to Tina and Sasha for her earlier behavior. “I’m sorry guys. I’m going through an emotional stage. I’ll be fine sooner or later.”
Mia texted Vic under the table saying she couldn’t meet with her tonight, but she could tomorrow. She would connect with Vic at Bottoms Up after work. Vic felt her phone vibrate in her pocket, and read Mia’s text. She nodded her head up and down. Tina and Sasha were too busy to notice. They were head to head, elbows on the table, talking full speed about interior house colors.
***
Aaron joined Mia and Sasha at the Victorian right after he closed the camera shop for the day. It was six-thirty, and they already made pretty good progress with the cleaning. Earlier, they brought over a few items from Tina’s house in the Tundra, of course with Mia behind the wheel. Tina loaned Sasha a card table and chairs for the time being. The card table worked fine as a planning area and a place to relax and have lunch.
“This house is going to be a masterpiece when it’s done, Sasha,” Aaron said, envisioning what the completion would look like. He could tell already that Sasha was “all in” and no matter what, the Victorian would be one of the most beautiful homes in Tarrytown. He gave Mia a passionate kiss on the lips and Sasha a peck on the cheek. “Yuck… you guys are all salty and sweaty.” He grimaced and groaned, as he wiped off his mouth.
“Thanks a lot. You know a woman’s work is never done, or so they say,” Mia responded, with a raised eyebrow.
“Yeah, and I bet it was a man that made up that stupid phrase,” Sasha added. “Do you want to check out my cool ride, Aaron?”
“Sure. From the street it looks pretty clean. Let’s take a look.” They walked single file out the front door and to the driveway. The girls inhaled the cooler temperature and welcome breeze. The old windows that were long painted closed, didn’t afford them much circulation indoors.
Aaron crawled under the truck, poked and prodded, and then checked under the hood. No leaks anywhere. No rust, or anything that rattled when he took it out for a test drive either. “So are you ready?”
“Ready for what?” Sasha asked, when he returned.
“Well… are you going to hire a driver, or are you going to learn how to drive this beast yourself?” Aaron asked.
“Yay! I’m going to learn how to drive. Right here, right now?”
“Yep, let’s go.”
The three piled into the truck with Aaron behind the wheel and Sasha in the passenger seat, watching closely. Mia sat in the jump seat behind Sasha. Aaron drove to an abandoned factory on the edge of town that had an enormous parking lot.
“This will do just fine,” he said, as he climbed out of the truck. “Sasha, front and center.”
Sasha remained seated and looked back at Mia with questioning eyes.
“That means get out and go around to the driver’s side,” Mia instructed her.
“Oh… okay.” She walked around the truck, grabbed the handle on the upper part of the door, stepped on the running board and pulled herself into the driver’s seat. She giggled as she sat proudly behind the steering wheel. Aaron got in on the passenger’s side.
“Now adjust the mirrors so you can see everything behind you. Adjust the seat too so it’s comfortable for you. You need to be able to reach the gas and the brake pedals without any effort. It has to seem natural.”
“Okay, I’m ready.”
“Alright, you have a shifter here. The only selections you’ll use almost all the time is park, reverse and drive. The other shifter is for the four wheel drive, which you don’t have to worry about right now. The gas is on your right and the brake is on your left. Hold down the brake, shift out of park and put the truck in drive. Don’t touch the gas pedal until I tell you to, and then barely press it with your foot. Put your seat belt on first.”
Sasha was giggling again, this time from nerves more than anything else. She kept her foot on the brake as she shifted into drive. She gradually moved her foot to the gas pedal and pressed it. The truck lurched forward. Sasha screamed. Mia burst out laughing. “This is going to take a while,” she said, as she hiccupped from laughing so hard.
Chapter Twenty Eight
With Mia and Karen joining her, Sasha returned the following day to Tim Murray’s Auto Mall and purchased the truck.
“You drive a hard bargain, Mia,” Tim teased privately. In his opinion, keeping your friends and business associates happy, made good sense, especially when living in a close knit community like Tarrytown.
Over the course of the next week Sasha got the hang of driving. Sasha drove often, but always with Mia as her sidekick. She hadn’t taken the driver’s test yet for her actual license, so she drove on a learner’s permit. Mia let her try driving the Camaro several times, but getting the hang of a stick shift proved too much for Sasha to grasp. At least for now.
The contractors were hired for the roof and the exterior painting. Sasha’s focus was on the outer appearances and weather proofing for now. The electrical and plumbing repairs would begin after the exterior was complete. The interior could be done room by room until everything looked perfect. New York’s long, cold winters were just months away, giving Sasha the perfect reason to stay inside, cozy up with a roaring fire, a cup of cocoa, and start painting walls. She pictured painting parties she would host. They’d have catered lunches and plenty of Merlot. Sasha not only envisioned the Victorian as her beloved home, but as everyone’s home. The Victorian was a home they all took part in finding and nurturing back to health. Her new friends were all on board to lend a helping hand. Soon, the Victorian Sasha fell madly in love with, would come alive as a renewed masterpiece. She would return to her original glory, the way she stood proudly, over a century ago.
***
Vic sat alone like she had a lot lately. The house was quiet and the lights were dim. She wasn’t the bubbly, Puerto Rican, hot mama she portrayed every day at Hair Brained. That was her professional and public persona. Everyone expected it of her. Vic was the crazy, loud, boisterous, funny woman that had over fifty personal clients. They were as loyal and protective of her as a mother would be to her children. Anyone that got between Vic and her clients would have hell to pay. The culprit would go down in a burst of flames. The old blue hairs, as well as the young hipsters, all booked their appointments months in advance so they were guaranteed to be at Vic’s chair. Nobody else would do. Vic wore many hats, and everyone loved her. She was their hairdresser, confidant, mother, daughter and comedian for two hours every single month.
Tonight, she was lonely, like last night, and the nights to come. Her heart broke for Max. She hadn’t spoken to him since the day he got fitted for his leg braces. They parted ways on his doorstep with a hug, and nothing more. There were no expectations, no future dates planned and no promises made.
The wine rack filled with bottles of Merlot mocked her from the kitchen. They beckoned her to come and partake of the grape. She stared at the bottles until they won. “Why
the hell not? Tomorrow is Tuesday. I don’t have to work anyway.” She grabbed a bottle and pulled the corkscrew out of the top left utensil drawer. The metallic seal over the cork was sliced off with the tiny knife and a quick twist of her wrist. The corkscrew sank deep into the cork with each turn. She pulled it out with a pop. The wine glass waited, anticipating the dark, grape nectar of the gods to be poured into it. Vic drank, and enjoyed it, over and over again.
She sat and blankly stared at the TV. The bottles of wine sat side by side on the coffee table, just in case. Her phone rang out from deep within the front pocket of her Lucky jeans. Such irony, she thought. She pulled out the cell. The caller ID showed her sweet brother Mario needed to talk to her.
“Hey, Sis, how’s it hanging?”
“Isn’t that what a girl says to a guy?” she asked, correcting him.
“Funny. Anyway, I wanted to give you a head’s up. I’m meeting with Max tomorrow to go over business ideas for the Peekskill area. He’s going to show me around. I guess there’s a few vacant buildings in prime locations downtown that might be perfect. Good exposure and decent storefronts, so he says. We’ve talked a lot since he’s been home. Something seems to be distracting him, like his mind isn’t focused on our conversations. Do you know why?”
“C’mon, Mario, stop torturing me like that.” Vic turned down the TV and filled her glass. “It’s complicated.”
“Well… uncomplicate it. I need him to be on board and focused if I plan to partner up with him. Peekskill isn’t a good location for skiing, but there’s plenty of hiking, camping and mountain biking in the area. Outdoor sports gear is hot. It would be a super business to own. We’ll have skiing in Hunter, and everything else in Peekskill. So tell me what’s going on with the two of you.”
“I’m insecure. Max is way too handsome for the likes of me. There’s tons of women better suited for him.”
“Really? That’s why he’s single, right? He wants to be with you, and you’re pushing him away because you’re insecure? You need a head check, Sis. Believe it or not, Max is in love with you. I want you to fix things with him so we can get our new business venture off the ground. I’ll tell him you miss him. Talk to you.”
“Mario, don’t you dare!”
“Can’t hear you, Vic, bad connection. Out.”
Damn you, Mario. Now I’m going to seem desperate in Max’s eyes. Vic groaned and grabbed the remote. She channel surfed, up and down the list, finally stopping on Nat Geo’s episode about Human Behavior. This sounds interesting. Apparently, our basic behaviors are the same as a pack of dogs. Awesome, that sounds about as pathetic as me. She reached for the second bottle of Merlot and cozied up in the recliner, pouring another glass.
Vic woke with the sun trying to laser cut a beam through her eyelids. “Son of a bitch, that’s bright,” she growled. It was more than clear Vic got up on the wrong side of the recliner, and had a raging hangover. Her feet weighed a ton as she shuffled toward the kitchen. Alka Seltzer was calling her name. “Plop plop fizz fizz… and whatever,” she grumbled, as she held a glass under the tap and filled it half full of water. Two white tablets were dropped in, and the distinct fizzing sound bubbled in the glass. Vic chugged it and gagged, but kept it down. That’ll teach me… Ms. Pathetic.
***
The insurance adjuster thanked Max for his time and drove away. They met at the local garage where Max’s Harley was towed. Shock spread across his face when he saw the tangled pile of metal that used to be his prized, customized bike. Both tires were blown out, and the rims were destroyed. Strange how the chrome still glistened in the sun, even with scrapes, mud and grass lodged in every cavity. The beautiful painted mural of a forest scene on the gas tank was reduced to crushed metal, scored with dents the size of softballs. The twisted handlebars resembled a giant Bavarian pretzel, and the handmade saddlebags were nothing but shreds of leather. He hung his head, thanking God for his life, but sad, none the less. The bike could be replaced, but what about Vic? Did she lose interest because of his injuries? Max was about seventy-five percent back to normal. It was a little over six weeks since the accident. His progress was right on target. Why did she pull away? Are my scars too repulsive? Did she think I couldn’t make love to her, or be a complete man again? Am I pathetic in her eyes?
Max became good at driving his truck with the leg braces, but they were coming off in a few weeks anyway. Other than the healing scars, he didn’t have lingering signs of his injury except for a slight limp. It could take months of physical therapy before that would go away. Max poured a beer and waited for Mario to show up. Nerves set in as he guzzled that beer and cracked open another. Mario was Vic’s brother. Have they talked in depth about us? Does Vic confide in him?
Mario spent the first week of Max’s recovery at Vic’s house. Max was preoccupied with therapists, and Mario ran his business over the phone. Max didn’t have the opportunity to see how close Mario and Vic were with each other.
The kitchen window faced the street. Max sat at the table staring at the almost empty bird feeder in the yard. I’ve got to fill that up. His house was a small Cape Cod, perfect for one person, but void of the woman’s touch that made a house a home. He wanted to be loved, and have a family, with Vic. The sound of a car door jarred Max back into the present. Mario, wearing a blue bandanna tied at the nape of his neck and pulled down to his eyebrows, walked up the sidewalk. The long braid swayed from side to side as he walked. He wore Keen Newport H2 sandals, and Ray-Ban Aviators. Mario was the hipster and hippie all in one. He wore the look of an over the top, Telluride, Colorado ski bum, mixed with cool, and an MBA. The crazy part being, he lived in New York most of his life.
“Go figure,” Max said, as he laughed out loud and gave Mario a man hug when he entered the house. “Dude, I’ve got to get that look.” Max teased his new friend about his appearance and the bright orange Karmann Ghia convertible parked outside.
“Yeah, but you’re just too old. I think the cutoff is thirty-five. After that, you have to start looking your age,” Mario taunted. “I still have a few years to go.”
“Well, if I’m going to run an outdoor sports gear store, I need to dress casual. I guess jeans and a tee shirt will do. The hair? I’ll pass. That would take years to grow. So are you ready to see Peekskill?”
“For sure. Lead the way, man. I’ll drive.”
Mario and Max spent an hour and a half between the three vacant stores downtown. Each building had great qualities all their own. The first, sat on prime real estate on the corner of two main crossroads. The second, had the most square feet of space, and the last was in the best condition. They toured them all, then took the listing sheets to a restaurant Max frequented often for lunch. The early fall day cooled the air. The time was right to start gearing up for winter sports. The sidewalk seating gave them the perfect opportunity to people watch. From outside Ruben’s Diner, they had a great view of North Division Street and Central Avenue. The table’s umbrella shaded the sun, so the ability to see every street was crystal clear. Max ordered two micro-brews as they assessed the foot traffic walking by. Anywhere on North Division was prime. Central Avenue seemed a little busier than North Division. They were leaning toward the store closest to North Division Street and Central Avenue. Any store would need to be changed to flow with the image of the products they were selling, so they crossed off the one in the best condition. That left the stores with the best location and largest space, but they were on opposite ends of Division Street. Max and Mario decided to take another look at them after lunch.
“So what have you been up to these last few weeks?” Mario asked, with a mouthful of chicken enchilada.
“For now, I’ve been working three days a week lecturing the kids on wilderness safety and group conduct. It’s been fun, but nothing like being out there in the middle of it all.”
“I hear you, man. I love being outside. It was tough leaving Colorado. Don’t get me wrong, I love my home state, but the mountains of Colorado
, that’s just eye candy. I’ll be honest, Max. I had to make a choice, and I think I made the right one. I wanted to open another store anyway, and what better place than going back to your roots.”
Max raised his eyebrows and shook his head in agreement.
“The main reason I left Colorado was because I broke it off with my girlfriend. I caught her cheating with my head ski instructor, my best friend. That really stung, man.”
“Damn… that had to be painful.” Max looked down and paused briefly, caught up in his own thoughts.
“Max?”
“Yeah?”
“Vic misses you. You should have seen how her eyes lit up when I told her we were meeting today.” Mario lied, plain and simple, but he had to say something to get Vic into the conversation.
“You saw Vic? How’s she doing?” Max perked up at the mention of her name.
“She’s hanging in there. Dude… you two have something that can’t be denied, it’s really special, so what’s the problem?”
“To be honest, I have no idea. I want to make a life with Vic, and I thought we were heading in that direction. The week after you left, she just clammed up. Everything went downhill and I don’t have a clue why. She probably sees me as a cripple, like I’ve lost my manhood or something. Maybe these scars turn her off. I’m at a loss.” Max ordered another round of beer.
“Here’s what I know for sure. Women are weird, but we can’t live without them. My sister is nuts with a capital N, but she’s nuts over you. That’s a fact. I wanted her to talk to me about it, but like you said, she clammed up. Somebody has to know what’s going on. I bet Mia does.”
Chapter Twenty Nine
Max knew Mia would be the right person to talk to, being Vic’s best friend and a great listener. The problem would be getting Mia alone without raising suspicion on Aaron’s part. Max didn’t want to get between them, that wasn’t his intention. He had to be careful around Aaron and watch his words, if he decided to go that route at all. Max didn’t want to involve other people in his problems.