real handyman.
Chapter Two
“SO, HAVE YOU seen Jake recently?” my twin sister Bree asked. She was still far too tuned into my moods even though she’d recently moved to Florida with her husband, Alex.
“No. I mean, he came over to get some of his stuff from the basement,” I said.
“And to fix some things in that house of yours,” Bree said with a laugh. “Ever think that maybe you bought such a fixer-upper because it would force you to find a man to help you out?”
I laughed, too, but I didn’t find it very funny. The man I’d loved had found it all too easy to walk away from me and my house.
“I still don’t get why you guys broke up,” she said, with an irritating ability to follow my train of thought.
“We were having some problems and it led to an argument. A big one. And then he just left.”
“Because you told him to.” We’d been over this before.
“Yeah, but I didn’t mean I wanted to break up with him. We were both so angry. He refused to admit there was anything wrong. He wanted to pretend that everything was fine. So I told him that if he hated talking about our relationship so much, he should leave.”
It still confused the hell out of me. Nothing else I’d said had gotten through to him in the year we’d lived together. But somehow, that did. And he’d left. Just walked away. Couldn’t he have stayed and tried to work things out? The next day when I came home from work, his stuff was gone from the bedroom. I found the bulk of his belongings boxed up in a corner of the basement. And I heard from Mike and Lisa that he’d rented an apartment. It’d been clear that he was done.
“But what exactly was the fight about?” Bree’s voice tugged me back to the present.
“You know … regular stuff,” I said. And I wasn’t trying to be evasive. I honestly didn’t know exactly what that one had been about. We’d fought often over household chores, paying bills, spending money. The normal things that couples fight about. In romance movies, there was always a clear reason for a breakup. The guy stayed out all night drinking with his buddies. The girl lied about her past. One of them cheated. There was always a reason. But in real life it wasn’t that simple. Or at least it hadn’t been for us.
“Well, hang in there,” Bree said. “It’ll get easier as time passes. Don’t make it harder on yourself. Do whatever it takes to avoid him. When a guy looks like that—probably out of sight, out of mind is the best way to go.”
* * *
A week later, the situation was dire at my house. “Come on, come on, you can do it.” But the garbage disposal was having none of that. It clearly couldn’t do it, judging by the three inches of water in the sink. Spinach, cheese, and grape tomatoes floated in it. Yuck. I’d dredged up lots of gross stuff when I stuck a wooden spoon down there, and all I’d gotten for my trouble was a sick groaning sound from the disposal. And now I needed a new wooden spoon.
To top it all off, it was Friday evening. Even if I could afford a plumber, there was no way I could swing for the weekend or evening rates. And I couldn’t go all weekend with no kitchen sink. I had to eat—assuming my appetite ever returned after seeing that unappealing mess. In order to eat, I needed to cook. And that required a lot of things, including the kitchen sink.
With a sigh, I called Jake, only realizing after the phone was ringing that he might be out tonight. On a date. With Stacie.
But he answered on the fourth ring, and it was quiet in the background. He sounded like he was probably in his new apartment.
I explained the problem and even did a pretty spot-on impersonation of the grinding noise the garbage disposal was making.
Jake was somewhat less than sympathetic. “Red, it’s Friday night. I worked over fifty hours this week. Yesterday I hauled hundred-pound bags of cement. Every muscle in my body aches. I’m
Chapter Two
“SO, HAVE YOU seen Jake recently?” my twin sister Bree asked. She was still far too tuned into my moods even though she’d recently moved to Florida with her husband, Alex.
“No. I mean, he came over to get some of his stuff from the basement,” I said.
“And to fix some things in that house of yours,” Bree said with a laugh. “Ever think that maybe you bought such a fixer-upper because it would force you to find a man to help you out?”
I laughed, too, but I didn’t find it very funny. The man I’d loved had found it all too easy to walk away from me and my house.
“I still don’t get why you guys broke up,” she said, with an irritating ability to follow my train of thought.
“We were having some problems and it led to an argument. A big one. And then he just left.”
“Because you told him to.” We’d been over this before.
“Yeah, but I didn’t mean I wanted to break up with him. We were both so angry. He refused to admit there was anything wrong. He wanted to pretend that everything was fine. So I told him that if he hated talking about our relationship so much, he should leave.”
It still confused the hell out of me. Nothing else I’d said had gotten through to him in the year we’d lived together. But somehow, that did. And he’d left. Just walked away. Couldn’t he have stayed and tried to work things out? The next day when I came home from work, his stuff was gone from the bedroom. I found the bulk of his belongings boxed up in a corner of the basement. And I heard from Mike and Lisa that he’d rented an apartment. It’d been clear that he was done.
“But what exactly was the fight about?” Bree’s voice tugged me back to the present.
“You know … regular stuff,” I said. And I wasn’t trying to be evasive. I honestly didn’t know exactly what that one had been about. We’d fought often over household chores, paying bills, spending money. The normal things that couples fight about. In romance movies, there was always a clear reason for a breakup. The guy stayed out all night drinking with his buddies. The girl lied about her past. One of them cheated. There was always a reason. But in real life it wasn’t that simple. Or at least it hadn’t been for us.
“Well, hang in there,” Bree said. “It’ll get easier as time passes. Don’t make it harder on yourself. Do whatever it takes to avoid him. When a guy looks like that—probably out of sight, out of mind is the best way to go.”
* * *
A week later, the situation was dire at my house. “Come on, come on, you can do it.” But the garbage disposal was having none of that. It clearly couldn’t do it, judging by the three inches of water in the sink. Spinach, cheese, and grape tomatoes floated in it. Yuck. I’d dredged up lots of gross stuff when I stuck a wooden spoon down there, and all I’d gotten for my trouble was a sick groaning sound from the disposal. And now I needed a new wooden spoon.
To top it all off, it was Friday evening. Even if I could afford a plumber, there was no way I could swing for the weekend or evening rates. And I couldn’t go all weekend with no kitchen sink. I had to eat—assuming my appetite ever returned after seeing that unappealing mess. In order to eat, I needed to cook. And that required a lot of things, including the kitchen sink.
With a sigh, I called Jake, only realizing after the phone was ringing that he might be out tonight. On a date. With Stacie.
But he answered on the fourth ring, and it was quiet in the background. He sounded like he was probably in his new apartment.
I explained the problem and even did a pretty spot-on impersonation of the grinding noise the garbage disposal was making.
Jake was somewhat less than sympathetic. “Red, it’s Friday night. I worked over fifty hours this week. Yesterday I hauled hundred-pound bags of cement. Every muscle in my body aches. I’m
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