Chapter 12

Andrea sat in the passenger seat as I drove my car toward the duplex. Walter’s SUV was parked behind our Odyssey and I parked alongside it. Holding hands we went inside our unit. My mom was sitting on the sofa with Annette and feeding her from a nursing bottle.

“How did she do?” Andrea asked.

“Oh, she’s such a good baby,” Mom replied. “I take it she doesn’t feed from a bottle very often -- she prefers the real thing.” Andrea gave me the side-eye and I refrained from making a smart remark.

“How did it go?” Walter asked.

“We closed,” I replied. “Now we’re proud owners of the dump.”

“I brought my tools,” he replied. “Let’s tackle that cage around the thermostat.”

“That is my first task as the new owner -- remove the cage. The screws have one-way heads.”

“Yeah,” Walter replied. “They’re designed so you can turn them righty-tighty but when you try to turn them lefty-loosey the screwdriver blade slips out. I’ve seen these used in public restrooms to prevent fixtures from being stolen.”

“Fixtures need to be removed for various reasons,” I remarked. “How do the proprietors of public restrooms deal with that?”

“Probably the same way we will.”

Walter spread a canvas dropcloth on the floor beneath the thermostat. He removed a Dremel tool from his toolbox and fitted it with a small grinding wheel. Using it he ground the screwheads flat and then used a cordless drill to remove the heads. With the screwheads gone the cage popped off easily. He then used a vise-grips to remove the screw shanks.

I turned the knob on the thermostat from sixty-two to seventy. “Let there be more heat,” I announced and the pipes leading to the radiators creaked as hot water from the boiler flowed through them.

Walter folded up the dropcloth and put away his tools. “Let’s take a look at the other unit,” he said.

“Yes, let’s” my mom said. “I want to see it.”

“I’ll go next door and open the door to the basement stairs,” I suggested. “That way we won’t need to go out in the cold.”

From inside the A unit I released the deadbolt, stepped across the basement landing and knocked on the door to our unit. Andrea opened the door and walked in, followed by Walter and my mom, still holding and feeding Annette.

I switched on the lights and examined the thermostat. “The cheap bastards had their unit set at seventy-two while they kept their tenant’s place ten degrees colder,” I remarked as I turned the knob down to sixty. “No need keeping this side any warmer than necessary.”

“Watch out for cold snaps,” Walter advised. “You don’t want pipes freezing.”

“We certainly don’t want that.”

“The place is a mirror image of yours,” Mom remarked.

“The two units share the same wet walls,” Walter said.

“I’m thinking the carpeting goes,” I said. “We’re hoping there’s hardwood underneath.”

Walter stepped back to our unit and returned with a screwdriver and vise grips. He worked up a corner of carpeting and peeled it back. “We have hardwood,” he announced.

“That will save you quite a bit,” Mom added.

“For the kitchen,” I continued, “I think it needs refreshing. I thought Walter and I could make new cabinet doors in a more modern style. We can paint them and the cabinets a light neutral color and replace the laminate countertops with solid material.”

“And, a new range and fridge of decent but not top-of-the-line quality,” I added.

“Casey,” Andrea said, “the range and fridge in our unit are nicer than the ones here and certainly satisfactory for a rental unit. We could move them in here and put decent new ones in our unit.”

“That’s a good suggestion,” I replied. “The kitchen floor is vinyl and in good enough shape for a rental unit.”

I headed up the stairs. “Same layout as ours but flipped,” I noted.

“Hardwood under the carpeting up here, too,” Walter said.

“Does that mean we have hardwood under the carpeting in our unit?” Andrea asked. “I would love to get rid of that gross carpeting in our room and in Annette’s.”

“That is something we definitely can do, now that we own the place.”

“And, you have the garage in back,” my mom observed.

“That’s right -- we haven’t even looked in there. Maybe that’s a project for a warmer day.”

“Well,” Walter said, “you have a bit of a project ahead. When do you go back to work?”

“Right after New Year’s. That’s the deal I had with Carla. I think the reno project needs to wait until after the holidays.” I escorted my family back to the B unit.

“Your little one has finished her bottle,” my mom said as she handed Annette to Andrea. “I noticed several nursing bottles in the fridge.”

“These are producing more than she can use,” Andrea replied, her hands cupped under her breasts. “I pump them because if I don’t they get uncomfortable, but that just seems to stimulate them to make more. It’s a vicious cycle.”

“You are keeping yourself hydrated, aren’t you dear?”

“Yes, Annette, I am keeping hydrated.”

“I understand that Lincolnville Memorial has started a milk bank to offer mothers’ milk to moms who can’t nurse,” my mom said. “You might want to give them a call and see if they could use your surplus.”

“That’s a good suggestion,” I said.

“It’s a very good suggestion,” Andrea replied. “I’ll do just that.”

“Well -- Walter and I will be on our way.”

“Thanks for looking after Li’l Annette, Mom,” I said.

“Oh, any time. I’ll happily make time to watch her.” My mother hugged Andrea.

“See you later, son,” Walter said and they headed out the door.

“Can you see if Annette needs to be changed?” Andrea asked. “I have a chicken stir-fry recipe I want to try. It should go together pretty quickly. I have some rice started.”

“Sure.” I looked into the cradle. Annette was reaching for some colorful wooden beads strung across the top. I picked her up and carried her upstairs.

“She sure needed changing,” I said. “We should ask Santa for a baby carrier so she can join us at the table when we have dinner.”

“Can you put in a word? Mrs Claus has been pestering me with Christmas gift ideas.”

“Mrs Claus being my mom.”

“Who else?” Andrea set plates on the kitchen table. I put Annette in the cradle and she resumed her fascination with the colorful beads.

I opened a couple bottles of Molson, set one at each of our places and sat at my usual spot.

“Mrs Claus thanks us for the suggestion,” I said regarding my phone. “She wants to know if you saw her note about Christmas Eve.”

“Tell her my phone has been on the charger and I’ll look at it after dinner.”

“She says, okay.” I sampled her stir-fry. “This is really good, Andie.”

“It goes together fast -- cooking the rice takes the longest.”

“You could serve it over some Asian style noodles,” I suggested. “Those would cook faster.”

“That’s a good suggestion.”

After dinner we sat in the front room with the television on. Andrea rocked the cradle with her toe while manipulating her phone. “Mrs Claus wants to have another family gathering on Christmas Eve at her place -- a pot luck buffet.” She rolled her eyes. “We just saw your whole family for Thanksgiving.”

“I think Mrs Claus wants to show off her new grandchild,” I replied.

“Most likely. Do we have to?”

“I think she would be deeply disappointed if we didn’t. Besides, you’ve met my family and they all like you.”

“I don’t know about all. I feel some distance from Justine ... and your Uncle Floyd is a little ... coarse for me.”

“You can choose your friends but not your family,” I replied. “I’ll agree -- I’m not very fond of Justine. I love Corinne and wish we could see more of her. Uncle Floyd is my dad’s older brother and the one who inherited the farm. He and Aunt Martha are good folks, Andie, even if they’re a little rough around the edges.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Dustin and I are almost exactly the same age. We were close buddies in school. He’s a sales manager for a farm implements dealership.”

“I thought you said he’s an engineer,” she replied.

“He has a degree in engineering but is making more as a salse manager.”

“He did make a point of welcoming me into the family,” she said. “I suppose it won’t kill us to attend. Maybe this will get it out of Mrs Claus’s system.” Andrea manipulated her phone. “I told her we’d come.” Andrea picked Annette out of the cradle. I’ll give her a bath and get her settled.”

“Okey-dokey,” I replied and switched off the television and headed upstairs. Andrea stepped into the bedroom holding a pair of nursing bottles. “Casey, would you mind...”

“Not at all.” I carried them to the refrigerator and then headed back upstairs. Andrea was in her robe, folding the clothes she had worn during the day.

“Mom’s suggestion about the milk bank was a good one,” I remarked.

“Oh, I agree. If you’ll excuse me...” She headed into the bathroom.

I stripped to my briefs, turned back the covers and switched on the nightstand lamp after turning off the overhead light. I lay with the covers across my hips until Andrea returned from her nightly routine.

She slipped out of her robe and wearing only her briefs slid in beside me. She cuddled under my arm and ran her fingers through my chest hair. “I am glad you turned up the thermostat,” she said. “Sixty-two is uncomfortably chilly.”

“Yeah, this feels a lot better.”

“I’m not in the mood for any foreplay tonight,” she said. “What we did last night could hold me for a week.”

“A whole week!” I feigned a pout.

“I said it could hold me that long. I’m sure I’ll want more Casey before then.”

“I’m counting the days before your checkup with Dr Lang,” I replied.

“Me, too. I know I’m still too tender.”

Andrea rolled onto her right side. This was my cue to nurse. I slid down so I could draw her right nipple into my mouth and begin nursing.

I was recalling what Andrea had said about context. My nursing tonight was in the context of bonding and, believe it or not, I was not feeling aroused. I was feeling trust and closeness as if this ritual, which had become almost a nightly one, was a reaffirmation of our love.

My technique was different in the bonding context -- slower and using my tongue to massage the milk sacs beneath the skin of her areola and force their contents into my mouth.

I could feel the tension drain from her muscles as I nursed. I wasn’t getting much milk from her breast, but enough that I knew she could feel it and I could taste it. She held my head against her breast, ran her fingers through my hair and made soft murmurs in the back of her throat.

Her right breast dry, I gave her nipple a good-night kiss and then switched to her left. After an initial surge of milk from her, the volume tapered off. I could feel her heart, gently and leisurely beating in a resting rhythm, through her flesh. This was what connected me most strongly to her -- it drove home that she was a living, breathing, precious individual who had given me an almost incomprehensible level of trust. Andrea continued holding my face against her chest. By now I was not feeling any milk from her nipple, but I continued nursing because I sensed she wanted it.

She released her grip on my head. I kissed her left nipple and then lay on my back so she could cuddle with me. From start to finish was only about ten minutes.

“I feel so relaxed and so at peace and so close to you,” she said softly. “I can be high-strung...”

“You? High-strung?” I replied.

“Stop it -- you know you’ve told me multiple times that I’m high-strung. This brings me down to earth. Do you feel it, too, Casey?”

“What makes me connected is feeling your heart. When we foreplay, your heart is an important tell for me. I use it to judge how aroused you are. When we nurse in a bonding context, your heart beating at a slow, resting rate brings me close to you.”

“I’m really pleased we discovered this, Casey. That we love each other goes without saying. Bonding like this takes us to another plane. Mmm ... I feel if I close my eyes I’ll be asleep, I’m so relaxed and mellow.”

“You had your oxytocin fix,” I remarked. I switched off the nightstand lamp. Through the baby monitor I could hear the faint rustling of Annette moving in her crib. Andrea cuddled close to me and in only a few minutes I felt her muscle tone and breathing change from wakefulness to slumber. I closed my eyes.

I sat at my workstation on my first day back at my job. Carla stopped by my desk. “Happy New Year,” she said.

“Happy New Year,” I replied.

“You had your baby,”

“We sure did -- little girl, seven pounds three and born on the twenty-seventh of November. We both wanted a daughter and we got one.”

“What did you name her?”

“Annette -- after my mom. Full name is Annette Brigitte Andrea Rollins.”

“Very nice. Are any of the names after her mother?”

“Andie and her mother are estranged -- for about ten years now, and neither appears eager to reconcile.”

“That’s really a shame, Casey.”

“I think so, but it’s a sore enough subject I’m not going to broach a reconciliation. Once they’re ready, I’d be happy to facilitate it.”

“Congratulations. Your holidays went well?” she asked.

“Very well. Annette made out like a bandit on Christmas.”

“How did you and Andrea like Dr Lang?”

“We both love her.

“I’m really happy for you. Can I have a word with you in private?”

Uh-oh, I thought. “Sure,” I replied.

I followed her into a conference room and she closed the door. “Casey -- I want you to be the first to know. Please don’t let this circulate until it’s official. I’m putting in my notice and the end of the month will be my last day.”

“Carla -- I’ll be sorry to see you go.”

“Well, another opportunity presented itself. Human Resources will be posting this as an open position, once everything is official. I’ve told my boss that you would be my top candidate for filling the post internally. If you would like it, please apply once the posting is up. It’s not a sure thing -- they may decide to fill the job with an outside candidate. As far as our existing staff goes, I can’t think of anyone more qualified, Casey.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. I’ve never been in a supervisory role before.”

“You’re smart and a quick study,” she said.

“I don’t know ... I’m not sure I have what it takes to fire someone. That’s a big downside to being in management, in my opinion.”

“That is the most difficult thing I have to do,” she replied. “Remember, if someone is not a good fit in the organization, it’s likely they’re not happy either. Sometimes terminating someone is a kindness, and it’s healthy for the organization. We don’t lose our poorer performers through attrition, after all.”

“I suppose you’re right,” I said.

“Think about it and keep it under wraps until the posting comes out -- okay?”

“Okay. Now I have to remember how my workstation operates, being away from it for so long.”

“I’m sure it’ll come back to you right away.”

I returned to my desk. Carla was right -- in no time I was back in the swing, working through my queue and taking a short break at lunch time to give Andie a call to see how her day was going.

By quitting time my queue was empty. I clocked out and headed for the duplex. When I got there I saw a dumpster in the yard and my step-dad loading debris into it.

“Come see what we’ve accomplished,” he said.

I looked around the unit -- all the carpeting was up, the doors off the kitchen cabinets and the counter tops and sink removed. “Wow,” I remarked. “All in one day.”

“Your mom helped,” he said. “So did Andie. While Annette was down for her nap she came over and ripped out carpeting.”

I went upstairs and saw the carpeting was ripped out of the rooms up there, too. “Do you think we need to do anything in the bathroom? I asked.

“Just some cleaning,” Walter replied. “Since the dumpster was here, Andie ripped out the carpeting upstairs in your unit, too. There was hardwood underneath -- could benefit from a coat of shellac but otherwise in good condition.”

“What about the nail holes from the carpet tack bar?” I asked.

“I’d leave ‘em -- adds character.”

“This place is just oozing character.”

“I made prototype cabinet doors,” Walter said as we headed back down the stairs. He held two doors up to a cabinet. “What do you think? Shaker style, very much in vogue today.”

“It’s a simple design that shouldn’t go out of style,” I remarked. “Looks great, Walter -- better than what was there.”

“I’ll give you the info on the hinges we’ll need to order.”

“Hinges ... right. Thanks, Walter.

“I’ll be done and out of here in five,” he said.

I passed through the connecting doors and found Andrea playing with Annette on the sectional. I went to her and we kissed. “Walter showed me what you’ve done. He said you pulled up the carpet upstairs.”

“It was so gross. I hate carpet. It collects dirt and even shampooing can’t get rid of it all.”

“It feels better on your feet than hardwood,” I countered.

“Did you ever hear of a thing called, slippers?”

She picked up Annette and followed me up the stairs. I looked around the master bedroom. “Being under carpet for so long has left an imprint on the hardwood finish,” I remarked.

“We could sand them and refinish them,” she suggested.

“Yeah -- that’s a job best left to professionals. We’d need to take out all the furniture and probably sleep in the other unit while it’s being done.”