III
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know, Marie. He called earlier.”
“Did he say he was on his way?”
“He asked about Lindsay’s book club thing with you.”
“That’s it?” Marie stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching Winston stretch duct tape across the bulge in the ceiling. “We need our things, Winston!”
“He’s your brother, Marie. You should’ve talked to him.”
Marie shifted her stance, face a bit scrunched as she observed Winston’s less than professional work, strip by strip. “Is that a good idea? Won’t it still… rot up there?”
“It’s just a temporary fix,” Winston replied, biting another strip of tape from the roll.
“Shouldn’t you call the plumber?”
“I still have to get the number from the neighbor and it’s not really in the budget right now anyway after Colette’s medication.” He wrung his hands, his fingers beginning to feel numb, and grimaced at the damp, peeling strips.
“Maybe the plumber can work off of credit,” Marie suggested with a sharp exhale.
“We already have credit payments to catch up on. As long as it doesn’t flood the house, we’ll be okay until my next paycheck,” Winston said, climbing down from the precariously perched step stool. “We’re out of tape.”
“Is that in the budget?” Marie asked briskly.
“I’ll ask the neighbor if they have a roll we can borrow,” he said, wiping his hands on his pants and descending to the ground floor to fetch his coat.
“Are Macy and John home? I didn’t see a car in their driveway.”
“We have two neighbors, Marie. I’ll visit the other house. I’ve been meaning to introduce myself anyway,” Winston replied, tugging on his coat and giving her a nod before taking his leave.
He trudged up the gravel road towards the house far off to the right of his own where the rusty truck was parked, his heart beating faster in his throat with every step for reasons he couldn’t quite place. It beat as if he was visiting an old friend, it hammered as though he was visiting an old enemy, and it faltered like he was visiting a complete stranger. Regardless of the racing, his strides were sure and steady until he’d reached the rickety wooden porch of the white-sided home with its patchwork of weather worn wounds carving chips into the clapboard and mottle of mud decorating the concrete foundation. The 3 steps creaked in deafening protest as he mounted each and for a moment, Winston was almost worried the loosely bolted overhang would topple onto him any second now.
“Ah- um- Hello?” he called as he knocked on the side of the mesh storm door with a sense of apprehension. “Sorry, I’m not a solicitor or anything! I live next door! I just moved in and just wanted to ask you something!”
“I heard you, I’m coming, give me a second!” came an impatient female voice from within the house followed by what sounded like something being shoved down the stairs.
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The door was hastily thrown open following the clack of the lock, the blonde woman he’d seen before at the diner standing there with heavy breath and pale flyaways in her face. Her plucked brows furrowed as she looked Winston up and down, confusion written into the details of her delicate features. “Kevin?”
“Kev- No, my name is Winston Dudley. Sorry if this is a… bad time,” Winston said, leaning sideways slightly in an attempt to see the cause of the prior ruckus past her and spotting a laundry bin at the bottom of the stairs with its contents strewn across the living room floor.
The woman’s expression was unfaltering for several seconds more before the stillness was broken by a breathless laugh, adjusting her bare footing while her mossy eyes lit with amusement. “Oh, gosh, sorry, you look just like Kevin. That’s too funny.”
“I… saw you coming out of the diner this morning. I didn’t realize you lived next door.”
“Fancy that, huh?” The woman stepped back from the door and picked up her laundry basket, piling the loose articles back into it. “Come in. Take off your shoes. I keep meaning to clean this floor. I haven’t yet but I don’t want more work to do with it so no mud, please.”
Winston hesitated but stepped inside, looking about the cluttered house. The floor was piled with newspapers, most stuffed into the fireplace that looked as though it hadn’t been used in years. Dirty plates were stacked in the kitchen sink and on the kitchen table and on a tv tray beside an armchair that was loaded with rumpled laundry. A tower of framed pictures stood beside the still and silent grandfather clock perhaps with the intent to be hung at one point but now sleeping beneath a fine blanket of dust. Boxes of random belongings were scattered throughout the rooms in inconvenient floor locations. Something in the air smelled musty and the rancid stink of the sink’s occupants was difficult to ignore. While it initially surprised Winston for someone so lovely to have such a befouled home, he considered the state of her truck and decided perhaps it wasn’t so surprising. He neglected to take off his shoes, though remained by the door cautiously.
“Don’t touch anything; I’m getting to it,” the woman warned him, pushing the laundry basket out of the way of the stairs, likely not to be touched again for a long while. “What do you need?”
“I uh… I just came to ask if you had any duct tape I could use. I’m trying to fix something in my ceiling,” he said, snapping to attention.
“I’m sure I’ve got some of that somewhere,” she said, stumbling over the very basket she had just relocated in her hurry to climb the stairs.
As Winston stood awkwardly with his hands in his pockets, he rocked on his heels and tried to ignore the thin wafts of spoiled food that jeered at him from the kitchen. “I don’t think I caught your name, ma’am.”
“Cheryl,” the woman called from upstairs.
“It’s nice to meet you, Cheryl.”
“Oh, for sure.”
He hunched his shoulders, burying his neck into the fleece collar of his coat. “Do you live alone, Cheryl? You don’t… have a husband or brother or anything? A man wearing orange maybe..? Shaved head?”
“Why? Are you planning on robbing me? You’ll have to dig pretty deep to find the valuables so you’re better off hitting the general store,” she said, returning with a cobwebby roll of duct tape in her hands and holding it out to him proudly.
He accepted it with a note of caution, eyeballing the residue before stuffing it into his coat pocket appreciatively. “I wouldn’t rob you. Don’t worry. Your secret treasure is safe.”
“You got a wife or sister?” she asked, wiping her hands on her dress and propping them on her hips with a somewhat lopsided smile.
Winston studied her face, relaxing his shoulders and opening and shutting his mouth like a gulping fish while he considered his answer. “... No. No, I’m here by myself.”
“Ah. Mhm.” Cheryl nodded. “You know, ever since you made that proposal to Annie Shale in 2nd grade, I can’t think about marriage without hearing little Kevin’s voice saying ‘I’ll make you the happiest girl in the world because I love you more than aaaanything’.”
“That wasn’t Annie, that was-” Winston shut his mouth, regarding Cheryl with a calculating stare before exhaling sharply. “... Cheryl.”
Cheryl grinned broadly. “So you do remember me. I gotta say, Kevin, if you looked this handsome back then, I might’ve said yes. What’s going on, you’re going by Winston now? You moved back into town and didn’t think to visit me? Were you busy preparing a better proposal than the one you gave me in 2nd grade?”
“No, no, I was just… settling in. Like I said through the door, I moved here just yesterday and I’m uh…” He waved the roll of duct tape in the air briefly. “Trying to fix things up with the old house. Something’s leaking in the ceiling.”
“That house has been through a lot,” the woman said with a nod followed by a shake of her head. “I’m sure you have, too. If you wanna swing by, you can at any time. I’ll be here. I’d love to catch up.”
Winston nodded back to her. “Yeah. Will do. Uh. Thank you for this.”
Cheryl gave him an awkward finger gun. “You owe me.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Winston offered her something of a lopsided smile before taking his leave from the house, letting out a shaky breath.
He wanted her to know him. He wished he could linger and talk more. There were things that required more attention, however. She was waiting for him in the house and, as much as he loathed the thought of returning to her at the moment, he’d made this choice. She’d know him eventually, wouldn’t she?