Chapter 6

I was in the driver’s seat of our so-called new set of wheels. Not a Karmann Ghia, but a ten-year-old Honda Odyssey. Neither of us likes SUVs, but we bought it for its hauling capacity. The runner up was a used F-150 pickup, but we thought the Odyssey was more versatile. Andrea teased me about it being a soccer mom’s car and I did need to scrape a soccer ball decal off the rear window once we got it home.

With the rear seats down, in back I had several sheets of plywood and I was heading toward my mom’s place so I could use my step-dad Walter’s table saw.

Mom had remarried rather promptly after Dad’s passing. Walter had lost his wife to cancer about the same time and they met in a support group. I had grown to love Walter and he regarded me as the son he never had.

Nonetheless, I wasn’t particularly looking forward to seeing them, as it would be the first time we had spoken since Sarah and I initiated the divorce. Being an only child I was close to Mom growing up, but the Andrea Hagen incident in high school had embedded a thorn in our relationship that remains lodged there to this day.

My mom is a retired registered nurse who works part-time at the local Target; and Walter is retired, too, but with his own interests. It would be fine if neither were home. I could use his saw and be out of there in twenty minutes.

I pulled into the driveway of a mid-century modern one-story with a large detached garage. The garage door was rolled up and both cars were parked therein: Double whammy.

I parked the van near the garage and walked through the unlocked front door. “Mom! Walter!” I yelled.

They approached from different parts of the house. “Casey,” my step-dad said, “what are you doing here?”

“I need to use the table saw for a little project.”

“Tell us what happened between you and Sarah,” my mom said. “We were stunned to hear the news.”

“We’ve had our preliminary hearing and now are in our four-month waiting period before the divorce is finalized.”

“That’s too bad,” Mom replied. “I always liked Sarah. I wish she liked us better.”

“Where are you living now?” Walter asked.

“We’re in one half of a duplex in Lincolnville -- close to my job.”

“We?” Walter replied.

“You have someone with you already?” Mom asked.

“Yeah -- Andrea.”

“Do you mean Andrea Hagen?” my mom replied.

“Andrea Drummond, soon to revert to Hagen, yes.”

“How could you leave Sarah for her? After all the trouble she nearly caused our family?”

“First off, I didn’t leave Sarah, she left me. She was having an affair with Paul Van Derbeck for over a year. He owns the dry-goods place where she gets her shit for her upholstery business.”

“I had no idea,” Mom replied.

“Well, neither did I,” I retorted.

“But -- why take up with Andrea?”

“Because we love each other. All the gossip about me fathering her child was not her doing. It was her parents’. Dodd Hudson was the guilty one. Besides, she had no intention of carrying the child to term.”

Mom put her hand over her mouth. “Are you saying she aborted the pregnancy? I knew her folks -- they would never have consented to that.”

“Maybe she got lucky and spontaneously aborted. Maybe it wasn’t luck. Her family trying to foist the blame on me wouldn’t fly -- a paternity test would clear that up toot sweet. I KNOW it wasn’t me. Sarah and I were both virgins until our wedding night.”

“Why didn’t you tell us this before?” Mom asked.

“I HAVE. No one seemed to want to listen. Dad certainly didn’t.”

“Well, I never doubted you,” she replied.

Bullshit! I thought but decided not to articulate. “Andrea has not had an easy time of it. I was unnecessarily cruel to her in high school -- for which I have apologized and she has forgiven me. She apologized for the way she treated me and I have forgiven her. She was miserable with Ben Drummond, and now he’s bankrupt. I got her out of there in a nick of time. She’s not the bitch everyone thought she was and I love her very much. The two of us are starting over together.”

My mother shook her head. “People are apt to talk once word gets out.”

“Then let them talk. It’s ancient history, anyway. It happened fifteen years ago.”

“People around here have long memories,” she replied.

“People around here need better things to do. Would it be too much to wish us luck?”

“Good luck, Casey,” Mom said.

“You’ll need it,” Walter added. “What’s your project?”

“I want to build a platform bed. The duplex is only partially furnished. There’s a full-sized bed that’s too gross for either of us to sleep in. We bought a queen-size mattress that we have on the floor, but Andie doesn’t like sleeping so close to the ground. Rather than spend money on a bed frame, I figured I could build a couple boxes for a fraction of the cost, we could put a bed skirt under the mattress and she’d be up off the floor.”

“I’ll give you a hand,” Walter offered.

His workshop was in one side of the detached garage and unheated. It was a fairly mild mid- March day so it wouldn’t be too uncomfortable. He rolled up another overhead door and we carried the plywood sheets into his shop. I took out a piece of paper with the dimensions and together we figured out how to best lay out the cuts.

“Your mother filled me in on the family’s history with Andrea Hagen,” Walter said. “I do remember hearing about it through the grapevine at the time.”

“You can’t believe everything you hear.”

“True fact, son. I don’t know if you caught the look your mother flashed me when it sank in that she was who you’re with. It was priceless.”

Walter’s table saw made short work of the cutting and I started carrying the pieces to the van. “Casey,” Walter said, “what are you doing for a headboard?

“Headboard? I hadn’t thought about it.”

“Wait here...” He headed up a set of stairs to the storage room in the garage’s second story -- I swear the garage is bigger than the house -- and returned with a carved headboard made of walnut and with a padded leather cushion. “If you can use this, you can have it.”

“It’s very nice, Walter, but it looks too narrow -- we have a queen.”

“What’s your overall width?” I showed him the paper and he measured the headboard with a tape. “Wait here.”

Walter returned with a couple pieces of rough-cut walnut. He trimmed them on the table saw, ran them through his planer and then put a decorative edge on them on his router table. With a pocket screw jig he fastened them to either side of the headboard. Then he gave the whole thing a couple coats of fast-drying shellac. “Put a little furniture wax on it and you’re good to go.”

“Thanks, Walter.”

“You really are serious about going forward with Andrea.”

“Dead serious.”

“Let us know what we can do to help. Starting over isn’t easy.”

“It’s a lot easier with the right woman,” I replied. “Once we’re settled, we’ll have you and Mom over for dinner. It’ll give you a chance to view her in a new light.”

“Looking forward to it, son.”

I drove back to the duplex. Andrea helped me prop the mattress against a wall. I busied myself with assembling two coffin-sized frames, cutting cleats out of a length of 2 x 2 with a sabre saw and using my cordless drill with a screwdriver bit to fasten the pieces together. Setting the frames side-by-side I screwed them together.

“We can put the tops on, now,” she remarked.

“I have a surprise.” I went down to the van and returned with the headboard.

“Where did you get that?”

“Walter gave it to us.”

“Walter?”

“My step-dad. I used his saw to cut the pieces for the boxes.”

“You told your folks about me, about us?” she asked.

“Of course I told them.”

“How did they take it?”

I shrugged. “Okay. It’ll take some time to sink in. Walter gave us the headboard -- I think that’s a good indicator. He even altered it so it would fit a queen. Hold it up against the wall.”

As Andrea held it I pushed the conjoined boxes up against it and screwed them to it. Then I popped the lids on, screwing them down. “Where’s that bed skirt?” I asked.

Andrea provided it and we spread it over the boxes. “It’s a little short,” she remarked.

“We can paint the boxes black so it won’t be so obvious.”

“I don’t mind if you don’t,” she replied.

“I didn’t mind the mattress on the floor. Help me set it on the platform.”

We set the mattress in place and Andrea sat on it. “This is a good height,” she said. “And it’s nice and firm.”

“You like things nice and firm,” I remarked.

“Mmm ... The firmer the better. Help me with the sheets.” We put the bedclothes on the mattress. She embraced me, gave me a squeeze and kissed my lips. “It looks beautiful, Casey.”

“It ought to be rock-solid stable, too,” I replied. “I can’t wait to try it out tonight.”

“You know, this back bedroom gets good light. On a sunny day like today it warms up nicely.”

I heard a horn honk outside and stepped into the front bedroom to look. “Well, I’m on to my next errand.”

She looked out the window with me. “That looks like your old delivery truck.”

“It is.” I headed down the stairs.

“Now where are you going?”

“Be surprised.”

I grabbed a light jacket, headed outside and climbed into the cab. My cousin Dustin was behind the wheel. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey...” I handed him a slip of paper. “This is the address.”

Dustin took out his phone and punched in the address. “That’s on the southeast side of the city. You couldn’t find someone closer?”

“We have to go where the getting is good,” I replied.

Dustin put the truck in gear and headed for the interstate loop around the city. “So, how’s the new place working out?” he asked me.

“Good. I really like the place. But -- we got boxes. Lots of boxes full of stuff we have nowhere to put. Right now it’s all in the spare bedroom -- my stuff from Sarah’s and Andie’s stuff. I think one of these days we’ll need to take a drive to that new Ikea and look for some chests of drawers.”

“Or, maybe have a yard sale,” he replied.

“Maybe once the weather gets nicer. It’s not bad today.”

Dustin regarded his phone. He turned off the interstate and onto a main boulevard. “Keep an eye out for Lancet Street,” he said.

“I think we just went past it.”

“Shit! And no place to turn around ... I’ll use that roundabout ahead.”

He made a 360 degree turn in the roundabout and we headed back in the opposite direction. “There,” I pointed. He signaled and turned. Shortly we were parked in the driveway of a nice- looking brick home in a nice subdivision.

I went to the front door and rang the bell. A woman in late middle-age answered the door. “I’m Casey -- I’m here for the washer and dryer.”

“I’ll get my husband. Wait by the garage.”

Dustin lowered the lift gate and rolled up the tambour door. The garage door opened and a gray and balding man stepped out. “I’m here for the washer and dryer,” I said.

“What did she agree on?” he asked.

“Two hundred for the pair.” I took two fifties and five twenties from my wallet.

He counted the bills and stuffed them in his pocket. “They’re in pretty good shape,” he said. “We’re remodeling the laundry room and she got seduced by commercials for one that does two loads at once. I guess it’s a good time to upgrade.”

“How long did you have them?” I asked.

“Just under ten years. The ones we had before that lasted twenty-five before they conked out.”

I extended my hand and he shook it. “Thanks for letting us buy them,” I said.

“Thank you for taking them off our hands.”

Dustin and I jockeyed the two units onto the lift gate, brought it up and then walked them into the truck. I used some straps made of fabric webbing to secure them to tie points in the wall. We closed the overhead door, secured the lift gate and hopped back into the cab. Dustin piloted our way back to the duplex in Lincolnville.

He parked the truck in the driveway. “Come in,” I said, “I’ll show you where they’re going.”

Dustin followed me to the basement. “The hookups are over here.”

“The basement isn’t finished or partitioned,” he remarked. “You have use of this space?”

“Yeah,” I replied, “it’s so stated in the lease. I thought we could use it for storage, but stuff would get musty down here.”

“We’ll never get those units down these stairs,” Dustin said.

“There’s a bulkhead door over there on the landlord’s side. We can bring them in through that.”

I released the deadbolt on the interior door and released the catch on the exterior doors. We headed upstairs and encountered Andrea. “So, what are you two dudes up to?” she asked.

“Andie -- this is my cousin Dustin. Dustin -- this is Andrea, my new squeeze.”

“Pleased to meet you,” my cousin replied.

“We stayed in Dustin’s camper,” I added.

“Yeah -- how did that go?”

“Well, without running water it was a challenge,” Andrea replied. “It’s a really pretty location. Very private, very quiet. I liked that.”

“We thought we’d want to spend a weekend there during the summer -- if that’s all right.”

“Sure -- give me a call. If we’re not using it, it’s yours.”

“Dustin and I have work to do,” I said and we headed outside.

My cousin opened the back of the truck and we maneuvered the washer and dryer onto the lift gate and lowered it to the ground. “Grab a couple of those straps,” he said to me and we used them to manhandle the units to the back of the duplex.

“Was that Andrea Hagen?” he asked me as we hauled the first heavy beast to the bulkhead door.

“Andrea Drummond. She married Ben Drummond but is divorcing him.”

“I thought recognized her. I also thought her status was persona non gratis within the Rollins clan.”

We set the washer on the grass and went back for the dryer. “A status can change,” I replied.

“I’m sure I’m not the only one who’ll be surprised to see you two back together after all these years.”

“No more surprised than we were,” I replied.

We set the dryer down. I opened the bulkhead doors, went down the steps and opened the interior door. Using the straps we jockeyed both units down the stairs and into position.

Andrea came down the stairs from our unit. “Where did you get those?” she asked.

“Craigslist,” I replied.

“You actually bought them off Craigslist?”

“Yeah -- the previous owners were upgrading. They’re used but not abused.”

“What did you pay for them?”

“A hundred each.”

“Well -- I hope they work out.” She headed back upstairs.

“You’ll need feed and drain hoses,” Dustin said.

“Yeah -- and dryer duct work. At least the dryer’s pigtail matches the socket.” I plugged it in and pressed the start button. The drum rolled and air came out of the discharge port. “I can handle the details.”

“Then, I’ll be on my way.”

“Come in for a beer,” I said. “I’ll lock up the bulkhead doors.”

“Sure. I’ll close up from the outside.”

I secured the latches and headed upstairs. I heard Andrea’s footfalls in the spare bedroom upstairs. From the kitchen fridge I removed a six-pack of Molson’s. “Andie!” I called.

“What?”

“Dustin and I are having a beer. Care to join us?”

“Oh, no thanks,” she replied sweetly. “I wouldn’t want to intrude on a Rollins clan reunion.”

Dustin looked at me slack-jawed. “Maybe I’ll pass on the beer,” he said. “It is getting kinda late and Justine has plans for the evening. I need to drop the truck off at Dad’s...”

“Understood. I need to get some hoses and those units hooked up. Thanks for the help.”

“Hey -- any time.”

I watched him back the truck out of the driveway and then headed upstairs. Andrea was sorting through cartons of her clothing and belongings from Ben’s house.

“Andie,” I said, “I think that remark about the Rollins clan reunion was uncalled for.”

“Are you suggesting that being called persona non gratis was called for? That’s what I heard your cousin say. I think we can safely forget about a weekend at the lake.”

“Did you hear me say that status can change? That was before -- this is now. We need to invite my folks for dinner so they can get to know you. Once they know you the way I know you, they’ll accept you. They’ll do better than that -- they’ll love you.”

“Casey -- I don’t want anyone to know me the way you do. I’ve confided in you things in my past that I don’t want anyone else to know. If the price of keeping those secrets is not being accepted by your family ... Well, that’s a price I’m willing to pay.”

“I know my family better than you do,” I replied. “They don’t know you from direct experience -- only from malicious rumors spread fifteen years ago. Once my mom gets to know you, she’ll accept you and love you. I know she will because that’s how she is. If she accepts you and loves you, the rest of the family will fall into line.”

“All right -- let’s put a dinner invitation on our calendar and see how it goes.”

“Andie -- you are more important to me than my family. If the price of keeping you in my life is severing ties with them -- that’s a price I’m willing to pay. I just hope it won’t come to that.”

“I hope not, too.” Tears began welling in her eyes. “Casey -- being accepted by your family would mean so much to me.”

I embraced her and caressed her. “They will accept you. They will love you. I guarantee it. I GUARANTEE it.” I kissed her lips. “I love you.”

We kissed again. “I love you, too.”

“I’m going to take some measurements and then go to the home center for what we need to hook up that washer and dryer. Then, we’ll be able to do laundry.”

“I don’t love doing laundry,” she replied. “I love it when laundry is done. There’s nothing I like better than sleeping in clean sheets.”

“I think the sound of a washing machine sloshing merrily away is the sound of home. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“What should we make for dinner?” she asked.

“Reservations,” I replied. “How about that Chinese place on the corner two blocks away?”

“I doubt we’ll need reservations there,” she said.

I found Andrea in the spare bedroom. “That place makes good Kung Pao chicken,” I said.

“I liked their Schezuan shrimp.”

“I don’t really care for Schezuan. Their other stuff is good.” I regarded her as she sorted through cartons. “What are you doing?”

“I’m doing triage on the boxes of my belongings from Ben’s place. This pile is stuff I’m keeping ... once we have storage for it. This pile is for Goodwill and this pile goes back to Ben.”

“How much longer are you going to be?” I asked

“Not long -- just as soon as I get to the bottom of this carton.”

“I got a text from my mom. She and Walter can come for dinner this Friday. Will you be ready to host them by then?”

“No,” she replied, “but we might as well get it over with.”

“So I can tell them it’s a date?”

“Yes -- go ahead.”

“Will you make your meatloaf? I think it would be a hit.”

“If that’s what you want,” she replied.

I went into the back bedroom we were using as the master, stripped to my briefs and lay in the bed. Andrea was right -- it was nicer to have the mattress elevated above floor level. While resting against the headboard I began scrolling through news sites on my phone. I could hear Andrea doing her nightly routine in the jack-and-jill bathroom between the two bedrooms.

Andrea came from the bathroom in her lightweight robe. She untied the belt and stripped it off. Underneath she wore a black satin short nightgown, its hem cutting across the upper thirds of her thighs. “Where did you get that number?” I asked.

“From Ben’s place. When our relationship started to sour I tried to sweeten it up with some lingerie instead of the cotton sleep tees I usually wore to bed. Nothing helped. Don’t worry -- I wouldn’t wear something in front of you that I wore in front of him. I know this one wasn’t worn because the price tags were still on it. Do you like?”

“I do. I like how the black contrasts with your porcelain skin. And, I like seeing those sleek legs.”

Andrea turned down the covers. I patted the mattress between my legs and she sat between them and leaned back so she rested against my chest. I put my arms around her waist and began kissing and nuzzling her neck.

“Mmm ... I like starting out like this,” she said. “I like how you hold me and kiss me. I feel like you want all of me instead of certain body parts.”

“I want all your body parts,” I replied, “and I want the girl that lives inside them.”

“That was kinda romantic,” she replied. “You really are putting me into the mood.”

“You weren’t in the mood before? Then why wear that nightgown?”

“I wore it for you.” I made loose fists and ran the backs of my fingers, washboard-style, down her nipples and could feel them firming under the black satin. I stroked her again the same way, but this time ending with a gentle pinch on each one. “That feels good,” she said and squeezed my thighs. “That feels really good.”

She rested like this for a while, purring softly as I continued stroking her breasts. Then she turned around and faced me, leaning in to kiss me. We kissed passionately and covered each other’s faces with more kisses.