The Rebuilding Year

by Kaje Harper

  “Nope,” Ryan said flatly. “But that’s my place. I guess he decided to have a party.”

  “Great.”

  “Well.” He opened the door and turned to slide out. “At least I have the right to be a party-pooper. We have a written agreement about no noise after ten on weeknights. It’s in the lease.”

  “Good luck with that.” John reached out impulsively and grabbed Ryan’s sleeve. “Wait a second.”

  Ryan half turned. “Yeah?”

  How to say this right? “You said your lease is monthly. Have you ever thought about moving out?”

  “Only a hundred times. But then I’d have to apartment-hunt again. I don’t have the time. And the next roommate might be worse than Jason.”

  John glanced up. “Hard to imagine. But no, what I meant was, I’ve been thinking about renting out one of the rooms in my house.”

  Ryan raised an eyebrow, but swung his legs back in and shut the door. “First you’ve said about it.”

  “Well, I hadn’t decided. You see, I could use the cash, but…what if I ended up with someone like Jason? I mean, my kids come and stay with me sometimes. I’d have to find someone I trusted around them. And someone I wouldn’t mind having in my space.”

  “And?”

  “And you need a place to live that won’t make you flunk out of med school. I need the money. We get along okay. You don’t laugh at my hobby.”

  “John, believe me, no one would laugh at your artwork.”

  “You see?” This sounded better the more he thought about it. “You’re older than most students. You find a twenty-two-year-old immature. You don’t go cruising for sex. I don’t have to worry about you looking at my twelve-year-old and seeing jail bait.”

  “Oh, now that’s flattering.”

  “It came out wrong,” he said, before he realized Ryan was laughing at him. “What do you think?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. What are you paying for your share of that dump?”

  “Five hundred.”

  “So, there’s a quarter of my child support, right there.”

  “A quarter?” Ryan stared at him. “You pay two thousand a month?”

  “Yeah.” He couldn’t stifle a sigh. “At least there’s no more alimony since she remarried.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “No, it’s not. When we got divorced, Cynthia was a housewife, and I was a landscape architect with a big firm. She didn’t want me buying the kids fancy presents, like that daddy-as-Santa-Claus thing, but I wanted them to have nice stuff.”

  “So you gave her the money and she bought fancy presents for them herself?”

  “It was a mutual decision. It was…” He choked on the word fair. It had never been really fair, but… “It was good for the kids.”

  “And now? You can’t be making that much. That’s twenty-four thousand a year!”

  I know that. “It’s a stretch. But teenagers are expensive. I can do it. Rent money would help.”

  Ryan was staring at him. “It sounds too good,” he said slowly. “I like your company. I don’t have many friends right now. But sometimes living with someone is a good way to ruin a friendship.”

  “I’m easy.” John coughed. “I mean, I’m pretty easy to live with.”

  Ryan glanced up at the light show in his windows. “I can’t say no,” he admitted. “In fact, when can I move in?”

  “Whenever you like.” John felt like he’d won a lottery, warm and happy. It would be great to have someone else around the house, someone who would fill those empty spaces where he should have had family. “How about this weekend? You pack your stuff, and I can help haul it in the truck. Except…what about giving notice? You don’t want to end up paying rent on two places at once.”

  Behind Ryan, a fluttering motion caught their eyes. Something pink floated earthward from the open balcony and landed on the grass. It was a bra. The woman who owned it was undoubtedly a… healthy young woman. Ryan sighed. “Oh yes, I do. Saturday. 8 a.m. Be here.” He slid out and shut the door.

  “Right.” John knew he was grinning. “Good luck with the biochemistry exam.”

  Ryan tapped his forehead. “No sweat. It’s in here. Even that circus upstairs won’t shake it loose. Saturday.”

  “See you then.”

  ****

  Ryan hated moving, but it was definitely easier with help, and getting away from Jason’s never-ending party was a major relief. Worth any amount of effort. He’d kind of enjoyed getting up at six a.m. despite it being Saturday, thumping around and ostentatiously packing up the last of his stuff. He left Jason bleary-eyed, grumbling about losing the stereo. Tough shit. The girl who’d been with Jason this time— who was not Mona— pointed out that there was now room for her to move in. Ryan had savored the look of panic on Jason’s face.

  Ryan reached the top of the stairs in John’s house, hiding the need to take a few fast breaths. This was the last box of his stuff. He should’ve let John help with more of it, except he’d caught the guy trying to be secretive, lifting all the boxes to see which was the heaviest. So of course, Ryan’s pride made him want to lug those ones himself. Which was stupid. He was fucking lucky he hadn’t taken another header down a flight of steps. He turned in at his room and sat down hard on the bed, letting the box slide to the floor.

  John turned around from where he had been casually looking out the window. “That the last?”

  “Yep. Ready to give me the tour?”

  “In a minute.” John slid down to sit on the floor, his long legs stuck out in front of him. “You don’t have much stuff for a thirty-year-old guy.”

  “I’ve got a bunch in storage at my brother Drew’s place,” Ryan told him. “I didn’t want to pay to haul it all out here. This was kind of a new start. I figured I’d go slow.”

  “I’m just as glad,” John said. “I’m old and decrepit, and I can’t take this much work.”

  “Bullshit.” Ryan dropped back on the bed. Nice, soft bed. “You’re not even forty and in better shape than I am, and that’s saying something, because I’ve worked at it.”

  “Well, maybe. Outdoor work is good for keeping fit. When I was a suit in an office, I was pretty flabby.”

  “Hard to imagine.”

  “Me as a suit, or me flabby?”

  “Either. Both.” Ryan closed his eyes. John was built like a tree, tall and limber and not an ounce of extra fat. He had long lean muscles, nothing flashy except for his arms, which were nicely rounded from all the digging. Well, and his chest had some width to it. “Maybe you’ll take me on as extra crew, save me lifting weights.”

  “When you can tell a maple tree from an oak, maybe.”

  “One little slip.” Ryan smiled in the dark behind his closed lids. The room was quiet, with only a distant swish of traffic going by on the road out front. No rap. No duets of passionate moaning. “Man, this is nice.”

  “You sure you don’t mind having the smallest bedroom?”

  Ryan cracked one eye open and rolled his head to look at John. “What, you think I’m going to kick one of your kids out of their room, to have more space for my nonexistent things? Who do you think I am?”

  John’s smile was slow and warm. “I know who you are. You’re welcome to use the rest of the house, you know. That parlor thingy downstairs has a desk in it that never gets used. I have the study and the workshop.”

  Ryan bit his lip. “The workshop might make a great place to study in, if it was cleaned up a bit.”

  John swallowed. “Um…”

  Ryan laughed. “Just kidding. Come on. You’re already giving me this great room and plenty of space, for the same rent as my half of Jason’s Fantasy Playhouse. I’m good.”

  “Okay. Good. I’m glad.” John got up and gave him a slap on the leg. His good leg. The man paid attention. “Come on, let me give you the ten-cent tour.”

  It was a great house. Lots of nooks and crannies, gabled windows, odd-shaped closets. It was a lit
tle dusty, but relatively empty of clutter. It was clear that kids visited, but they didn’t live there. There was a small space on the end gable, accessible only by bending over, with a round window out onto the back lawn. It begged for a heap of cushions and a grownups-keep-out sign, but held only dust bunnies. The kids’ rooms were personalized, filled with books and toys, but a little too tidy. And a little young, Ryan thought, handling an airplane lamp on Mark’s dresser. Most fifteen-year-olds would have passed that along years ago.

  Eventually, they ended up in the kitchen, sitting at the little table. “You made this, right?” Ryan ran a hand over the glossy surface.

  “Yes,” John said. “It’s too small for when the kids are here. I have a regular one that seats four. But this one is okay for just me.”

  “Or for the two of us. Two plates and a large pizza—what more could we need?”

  “I guess.”

  Ryan tilted his head and took a better look. John had seemed low-key all day. Ryan wondered if the reality of sharing the house was sinking in. Maybe John was regretting his invitation. “You know,” he said tentatively. “I still have a month on my lease on the apartment, if this isn’t working for you.”

  “Huh?” John straightened. “No! What would give you that idea?”

  “You just seem a little down.”

  “I just…I think I’m finally realizing that I’m never going to have it all. You know, a normal life with a wife and kids in this house. I know it’s been four years since the divorce, but I think all along I was hoping something would change, that I could get my life back. Not hoping in my head, but in my gut. And now I know I won’t. Which is… liberating, in a way, but a little sad.”

  “It’s hard to let go.”

  “Yeah.”

  Ryan knew he shouldn’t ask, but he wanted to know. It wasn’t the impression he got from all their conversations. “Do you still love her?”

  “Cynthia?” John shook his head. “No. Not for a long time. I did once though, and I loved the life, loved the kids. I liked being the breadwinner and the dad, having it all. Cynthia was the most beautiful girl in school. I couldn’t believe it when she agreed to go out with me. She was way out of my league, but she made it happen. We got married at eighteen, and I thought I had the world in my hand. Even when it wasn’t still true love, it was good.”

  “What happened?”

  John sighed. “Life? I’m not sure. I wasn’t enough for her somehow. She was always needing more, looking for more.”

  “More?”

  “She was ambitious and I wasn’t. Like my job. She picked out which offer I took out of school. She wanted to play the upwardly mobile wife, give parties, help my career. I wanted to grub in the dirt. When the firm got bought out, I had a chance at a bigger salary in a management position. I turned it down. I guess that was the last straw.”

  “What work does she do?”

  “Work? Well, the kids, she’s always been busy with the kids. She’s a great mom. Her new husband’s a lawyer and she talks about all the stuff she does to help his career.”

  And how old are the kids now? Sounds more like a great parasite. His own mother had held down a job, even with mothering four kids. She hadn’t needed to define herself by his dad’s career. But it wasn’t his place to comment.

  “So,” he said. “Do you want to make up a formal roster of household chores, and divide things up? Or play it by ear?”

  John gave him that warm wide smile. “If you do dishes, you can live here forever.”

  Ryan was surprised at how good that sounded.

  Chapter Five

  They’d fallen into a routine easily, Ryan reflected three weeks later, as he dried the spaghetti pot from dinner. Okay, sometimes he wasn’t as neat as John might’ve liked. He had become very familiar with the long-suffering sigh the man came out with, as he returned some straying utensil to its proper place. And John took the longest showers known to man, so there was never hot water in the evenings. Ryan had had to put his foot down, to make sure he got first dibs on Fridays after Anatomy lab. He needed to get the lab smell off his skin before letting John have his turn.

  But in general, it was working even better than he’d expected. They liked the same music in the background in the evenings. They both got up early, but neither one was irritatingly chipper before the sun rose. They bought groceries for themselves, but didn’t make a big deal out of whose carton of milk was open now. And as a side benefit, he got a ride in to campus in John’s truck most mornings, instead of standing waiting for a bus. After just three weeks, Ryan decided he could handle living like this for the next three years.

  Upstairs the water shut off at last. John appeared as Ryan was putting away the last of the silverware. John’s T-shirt clung to his damp skin, and his hair was flat and wet, its auburn muted to brown. He moved easily past Ryan, and grabbed a clean mug out of the cupboard. “You want some too?” he asked, automatically getting down a second cup.

  “Nope.” Ryan grabbed a Sprite out of the fridge and opened his textbook on the cleared table. “I don’t have much studying to do. I’m planning an early night and some real sleep. Without caffeine.”

  John filled his mug from the ever-ready thermos and waved it under Ryan’s nose. “But it’s sooo good.”

  Ryan laughed and flapped a hand at him. “Get away from me with that.”

  “Your loss.” John took a big swallow. “I’m going on the computer for a while, planning the plant orders for spring. So don’t shut off the network.”

  “You’ve got it.” John had been pretty half-assed with his computer setup. No security, old software. Ryan had got him better stuff, and taught him to put his computer on a power strip and shut it off when not in use. Lower bills, and no one was hijacking your machine in the middle of the night. He hadn’t sold the man on using a webcam yet, but eventually.

  Ryan was deep in the intricacies of electrolyte controls in the kidney when he heard John curse from the other room. The tone had Ryan on his feet immediately. He stuck his head into the study.

  “Computer problems? Something I can help with?”

  “No.” John cursed again and shoved himself away from the desk.

  “What then?”

  “Cynthia. She sent me a damned e-mail. Not even a phone call.”

  “About?” This was like pulling teeth, but the look on John’s face was more pain than irritation.

  “You remember I told you the kids have the whole Thanksgiving week off?”

  “Yeah. Next month. They’re coming here for the Saturday through Tuesday before the holiday. We’ve gone over that.”

  “Except now they aren’t.”

  “What? Why not?”

  John ran a hand over his head, standing his damp hair on end. “How the hell would I know? She gave a list of reasons, all this stuff they don’t want to miss. She’ll send them at Christmas.”

  The bitch. John made an obvious effort not to speak badly of his ex-wife. Ryan was under no such restriction, especially in his own head. After suppressing his first three reactions, he suggested, “Why don’t you go out there?”

  “What?”

  “To LA. If she won’t send them here, go out to LA yourself. Visit them there.”

  “Cynthia would have a fit if I asked for time with them on her turf.”

  “So don’t ask,” Ryan said. “God, you give in to her every time. Just go out there, show up at the door, and tell her you’re taking the kids to a hotel for the weekend, to make up for all the time you’ve missed. How can she say no?”

  “She could stop them from coming here the next time.”

  “She’s doing that already. Look, I don’t mean to butt into your business, but those kids must be wondering if you really want to see them.”

  “What?” John sounded pissed. “They know she has their tickets for a flight back here, any time she’s willing to let them come.”

  “Do they? How do you know what she’s telling them?”

&nb
sp; John stared at him. “But… going out there… we’re busy at work right now. And I don’t know if I can afford… especially around the holiday. There won’t be any seats.”

  “Now who’s making excuses?” Ryan nudged John aside and got onto the Net. Ten seconds to log onto Expedia, and he was scanning flights. “There. Leave Friday at ten p.m., get into LA at eleven thirty. Love that time change. You can have all day Saturday and Sunday, and most of Monday. The rest of the week is booked full, if you don’t want to spend thousands. But if you take the red-eye back Monday night, it’ll only run you about five hundred dollars for the ticket. And you only miss one day of work.”

  “There’ll be a hotel bill.”

  “So figure three nights, another four hundred, a couple of meals. You can do the whole thing for a thousand. You already have my first month’s rent. How about if I commission a piece from you?”

  “A what?”

  “A work of art disguised as something useful. Stay with me here. A cane, I think.” He smiled at John’s open-mouthed stare. “You’re catching flies. Yeah, I hate the thing. But you could design me something better. Something that would keep me from falling over and still have people going that’s so cool when they look at it. A John Barrett original. Cover the other five hundred.”

  John blinked. “I could do that. I’ve actually had some ideas, but five hundred dollars…”

  Ryan leaned forward and stuck out his hand. “A private room for a month and a John Barrett original artwork cane, one thousand dollars. A weekend with the kids, priceless.”

  For a moment he thought John would still balk, but then the man began to smile, and reached out a hand to seal the deal.

  ****

  John stared out the window at his backyard. He usually loved late October. The color on campus was still close to its peak, the mornings were crisp, but the middle of the day still allowed for short sleeves. His crew had been busy raking, bedding down the perennials, trimming back bushes that might bend under the coming snow. But the annual beds still blazed with the fall colors he had planted. He didn’t even mind the additional raking that piled up in his own yard after a full day on campus. So he wasn’t sure why he felt discontented today.