One day while I was sipping coffee, I saw a woman standing outside our house trying to attach a grey plastic box to the handle of the door. I gathered my things and placed them in my bag. I hastily treaded across the street and only to stand still watching the woman. With every beat of my heart I wanted to move my legs to approach her but my legs just stood there. My voice seemed to be lost as well. The woman swore and threw her bag to the floor. Her perfectly placed hair frizzed out of her chemical paste that no doubt had been sprayed on that morning. She swore again shaking her finger of the right hand and kicking the door with her periwinkle pumps.
“Can I help you?” A voice sounded. I looked around, only to find I was the only one standing there. No wait. I wasn’t standing I was walking forward.
The woman looked at me and straightened her navy blue pencil skirt. “Unless you want to buy this house.” She snapped. “Sorry.” She took a deep breath. “Here.” She handed me a business card. She rolled her eyes and mumbled something about everyone being a potential client.
“Actually could I see the house?” Once again I spoke not knowing I was releasing words.
The woman glared then shrugged her shoulders. “Hold on I need to call my boss and SEE IF HE CAN ACTUALLY GET ME THE RIGHT LOCK BOX!” She leaned out from underneath the overhanging porch and yelled the last part into the heavens.
While she waited for her “cocky, arrogant boss” to answer her cell she let me in. Upon first entering the double doors I was hit with the same musty smell you get when you open an old library book. The smell was thick and hampered my sight. Behind me the agent, slid open the drapes on the front window then lifted the window pane. With a light breeze the room began to unveil itself. It was a large entrance. Window were all round but for on the back wall. Where there only stood one swinging door. Two pillars stood at attention on either side of me and a fireplace was boarded up between two of the windows. Beneath my feet was red rug that told a story of days where it once was plush and filled with color.
The woman was now yelling into her cell phone at some she called Jack. She waved at me to follow. She went through the swinging butler door. It took us into a small kitchen that had been revamped with new cabinets and counter tops. Mixed and matched appliances where scattered throughout. There was bar that shot out and divided the kitchen from a somewhat larger room that I supposed was meant to hold a dining table. A rather large stair case jutted out into the room. I made my way to its wooden steps and ambled upward. I could still hear the agent arguing into her phone and realized who she was yelling the man so called Jack or any other of the names she was throwing his way.
At the top of the stairs I found three bedrooms. They were of a descent size. One was twice the size of the others. Some of the walls had new sheet rocking and new bare wood poking out in every which way. New carpet had been laid down. The smell from the floor below was so vastly different. Up here it held the scent of a home improvement store. I wandered in and out the rooms day dreaming. I poked into the one bathroom. I stood still. Unlike the rest of the bedrooms it had been completely refinished. Two sinks, one big mirror, large bathtub with jets, all new. I sat my bag on the counter and riffled through my papers and things. I clutched the envelope that my dad handed me before I left and whispered a little prayer.
“Excuse me! Sweet heart! Can you wrap it up? The lock box is on it’s way and I have to head out of here.” The realtor found me in the bathroom and pointed her manicured finger down the stairs. “ If you are interested in buying a house we can make an appointment and we can see what you can afford.”
“I want this house? Isn’t for sell?”I replied. I held the envelopes contents out for her to see. The woman took a deep breath.
“Well… make an appointment and we…” Her eyes finally adjusted to the small piece of paper I held in front of her. “Who is Timmarie Kay Coaling?”
“Me.”
She blinked her painted eyelids. I was waiting for a sassy retort or a snide comment instead She gestured for the slip of paper asking to hold it in her hands. She asked if I was serious. When I confirmed that I was she placed her hand on a wall as if she was hit with sudden vertigo then slowly allowed herself to slide to the floor. She sat in a crumpled heap. Her pristinely iron suit deflated as she gave a large exhale then allowed a river of salty tears escape her almost violet eyes. “Explain”, the word was released like a bubble to be popped.
I lowered myself in front of her. Raising my shoulders and the corners of my lips, I began to tell my story
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