A Short Story

Judy straightened her white ironed shirt and pulled a pale blue sweater out of her bureau. She tied the arms around her neck in an attempt to look casual. She wiped the kitchen counter with her hand on her way through to the front door. Threw the empty wine bottle in the recycling bin. I think I was supposed to bake cookies to make it smell like someone might actually want to live in this hell hole. She tried to look like she wouldn’t give away the house to the next vagrant who passed by if they had a ball point pen so that she could sign it away. 

Lillian’s sporty white coupe sat in the drive. She had tried to sound aloof on the phone. But this was it. This was the house. Window boxes. White marble countertops. Space for entertaining. An extra room for an office for Derek. The photos had sealed the deal. He’ll have to love it. She could make him love it. But she was desperate to conceal her excitement. Her panic. She knocked.

Judy put on her game face and opened the door. “Please come in,” said Judy. “Make yourself at home. It was Lillian, right?” Dear God, you’re so young. Please be an heiress somehow. Please want it. Please. She forced an open smile.

They shook hands and Lillian’s eyes began to scan the house in poorly hidden wonder. It was everything she wanted. 

“This is nice. How long have you lived here?” said Lillian. “You mentioned on the phone that there was foundation trouble a few years back?” It’s perfect. He’ll love it too. The fireplace. Oh, God. How many others have looked at it? “Have you had much interest? I hear the market is softening. I do worry about the cost. It’s such an investment.” I’ll pay anything to get him a few miles more away from Alice. Whore. 

“I’m exhausted, really,” said Judy. “Now I know why people have realtors. Although, why shouldn’t enterprising ladies like us keep the commissions? Having to keep the house spotless all the time has been a chore.” What else do I have to do now other than drink and cry? “But this house has great storage. It practically cleans itself. It’s harrowing the sorts of people who answer these ads, but there have been several serious offers.” I am exhausted. I should have burned it to the ground. I need the money. But I just want this to be over. “What did you say you did? Any kids? The backyard is wonderful. I just really want the house to go to someone who will love it as much as we have. Let me show you the patio.” I loathe this house. I can’t unsee his face. His horror at me. Gnats. Mosquitos. His shit, gone. How can I miss his stupid grill? He cooked. I actually threw away a life with a man who cooked. When he was here.

“No, no kids yet. But soon.” So much sooner than he thinks. “Derek says he wants to get through graduate school and get established first.” I know he’s not ready. I’m ready. I’ll make him see. This is best for us.

“No hurry. Truly, married life without kids is lovely,” said Judy. “So much time for each other. Evenings by the fire. Wine.” Fat chance sister. He doesn’t want kids. When they tell you things you should listen. I wish I had listened. He said he’d be gone for work, but that he loved me, and guess what? I got lonely and screwed a bartender. Right there. Right there in front of that fireplace that you love. That’s what wine by the fireplace causes. I ruined everything. I want to vomit. I need to get out. “You two will love this neighborhood.”

“Yes, Derek is picky about neighborhoods. A real negotiator. But he told me to find what made me happy.” I’m such a liar.  “But are you flexible on the price?” We need this. This will give us roots. It’s my money too. He’ll come around. The best schools. All the shops and restaurants within walking distance. He’ll be happy here. He says he doesn’t care but I know he does. He just wants me to be happy. Right?  “Could you close rather quickly?” 

“John was picky about neighborhoods, and he loved it here. I get it.” He loved us here. And now he’s just picky about not ever seeing me again.

“Men, they act like they aren’t interested…” said Lillian. He acts like he isn’t interested in me anyway. He doesn’t want this. 

“…but they are! I know,” said Judy. Interested in not finding their wife fucking a bartender on the floor in front of the fireplace.

“So funny. Can I just walk around for a few minutes to see how much work I’d have to put in here to, you know, make it right for us? This paint is atrocious. The yellow undertones would make me look like I have jaundice. It needs to be seafoam. And we can knock out this wall and open up the kitchen. Open concept. That office will be the nursery. How am I going to tell him? He’ll never believe a type-A like me forgot a pill. Accidents happen though. What have I done?

“Take your time. Of course. But I do have another person coming by in twenty minutes. I want you to have enough time though. I could call them if you need more time.” Hurry. Please Jesus hurry. Make this end. No one has called. No emails. No offers. Nobody is coming. I swear I’ll just run. Let the damn bank have it. “But I really think this house suits you. So many good memories here.” Bullshit.

“Yes, memories,” said Lillian.  “That’s what I want. To create memories. Look, I know we’ll need inspections and such, but I’m fairly sure if you could see your way to coming down about ten-thousand. I mean, we’ll have to paint, and Derek will need a whole grill set-up for the patio. I see where you used to have one.” As though he’d cook.

“Gosh, I feel like the price is already fairly aggressive, Lillian.” Thank you, Jesus. How about twenty-thousand if you will just sign a contract right now? “But, I think we can get there. I really like you. I can see your happy life starting here already.” Screwing your husband’s best friend in front of the fireplace.” 

“This is exciting, Judy.” I’m terrified.

“It really is Lillian. It’s simply perfect.” I’m terrified, too.