Chapter 9
The kitchen looked verydifferent from the last time I saw it. The counter top was completely gone, along with the sink and faucet, the upper cabinets were nowhere in sight, and the bottom cabinets remained but without the doors. The ancient appliances had been removed, and a section of linoleum near the back door had been ripped up.
“Jo, you can go back to pulling up the floor,” Calvin said, reaching for the sledgehammer that had been my nemesis less than a week ago. To me he said, “You can help me with the wall.” He pulled a regular hammer off a loop on his tool belt. “Break through the drywall like this.” With short, quick movements, he punched a series of small holes into the wall. “Got it?”
Not that I wasn’t happy to use a more manageable tool, but I still had to give him a hard time. “So you get the big one, and I get this dinky thing?”
“This dinky thing is less likely to break your foot. Though I see you wore the right boots this time.”
“I wasn’t told to dress for demolition at our last meeting. That was on you.”
“Yeah, it was.” Calvin turned serious. “How’s your foot? Are you sure you’re okay to be on it like this?”
His concern made me less inclined to harass him.
“It’s still tender to the touch, and has turned an ugly shade of yellow, but I can put weight on it.” I wiggled the foot in question. “The boot isn’t tied super tight, but tight enough to keep it on.”
With a sigh, he said, “I’m really sorry.”
There was no need for apologies. “We’ve been over this, Calvin. Neither of us had any idea I’d drop the hammer. Forget about it.”
“I’m still going to watch you like a hawk today.” He handed over the small hammer along with a pair of safety glasses. “You work on this side, and I’ll get started over here.”
Stepping to the other side of the doorway, he used the flat part at the top of the hammer to put a series of sizable holes down the drywall. His movements were efficient, steady, and caused the muscles in his arm to bulge beneath the sleeve of his dark gray tee. Instead of attacking my own wall, I got lost watching him work. Until he stopped and looked over, one brow arched high.
Heat rolled up my cheeks as I realized I’d been busted. Clearing my throat, I got to work adding to the small holes Calvin had already created. Within minutes, my hands hurt like crazy. I was used to balancing the weight of a camera, but this constant movement was proving more taxing.
Part of me wanted to take a break, but my pride wouldn’t let me. When I couldn’t stand it anymore, I stopped to shake out each hand. As soon as I did, Calvin handed over a pair of dark brown gloves.
“Wear these.”
“I don’t—” He stopped my protest with one knowing look.
Mouth shut, I put them on and went back to work. They really did make a difference, and before long, my little holes turned into one big one.
“Now do this.” Calvin reached past my shoulder to rip out large sections of drywall with his hand. “Pull it all away until the beams are fully exposed, but don’t go beyond that point.” To my left was a spray painted white line from ceiling to floor. “That’s where the opening will start.”
Proud that I’d accomplished so much, I looked over to see that he’d cleared out his entire section and gone to work on the living room side of the wall. I reminded myself that this was not a competition, and, of course, the pro would be faster than I was. I’d be concerned if he wasn’t.
None of that meant I wouldn’t try to keep up.
Within an hour, we’d removed the rest of the drywall, and Calvin then used some really cool looking saw thing to cut away the beams until the doorway was twice the size it’d been when we started. Stepping back, I marveled at how much bigger the space felt already.
JoJo had worked around us until we switched over to the living room side to finish cutting the beams, but by the time the opening was done, she’d ripped up the top layer of linoleum to reveal at least two more layers beneath. I recognized the terra cotta orange flower pattern.
“I remember that from when I was little. Is that the original one?” I asked, pointing to the pattern I’d never seen before. Small white, yellow, and light orange squares of varying sizes created a pattern that screamed the seventies.
“Looks like it.” Calvin tested to see if there was anything beneath that layer. “Yeah, that’s it. Do you want to keep a piece of it?”
Keeping remnants of things hadn’t occurred to me, but this was the design that Bammy had picked. The idea of having even a small piece suddenly felt incredibly important.
“I would, yeah. Can we do that?”
“We can do anything you want,” JoJo said. Using a small metal scraper, she gently peeled up a one foot section, keeping it perfectly intact. “Here you go.”
Tears welled up in my eyes, and I imagined Bammy smiling at her brand new floor. She was so proud of this house. So proud of what she and Pops had built. Now I would add to the foundation they’d established so long ago.
“Thank you.”
“No problem,” she said. “You could always put something like that in the new kitchen. Retro is in.”
That idea dried up the tears. “I do not want this ugly floor in my kitchen.” We all laughed. “But I might frame this piece and put it somewhere.” Staring at the remnant, I said, “We could put something similar in the new powder room. These shades of yellow and orange could be pretty.”
Calvin nodded. “We can do that.”
We locked eyes for several seconds and I knew in that moment. He got it. He understood what this house meant to me when no one else did. The thought made me smile and I knew there was never anyone else who could have done this project with me. Calvin was the only one.
“I’ll start cleaning up the drywall,” JoJo said, hopping up off the floor.
Her quick departure reminded me I was here to work, not to get weepy over ancient linoleum. “What do we do next?”
“You feel up to helping pull out the rest of these cabinets?”
“Sure.” We both stood and I looked around for a safe place to put my new treasure.
“Here.” Calvin took the thin piece and carried it into the foyer. Returning, he said, “It’ll be safe in there.”
Who knew that protecting a piece of old flooring would feel like an act of wooing. The thought freaked me out. That was not what was happening here. No wooing. Absolutely not.
Determined to stay on task, I put my gloves back on, but as I looked up, Calvin reached out a hand.
“Hold on,” he whispered. His breath warmed my cheek as he gently removed something from my hair. Meeting what I could only assume was my wide-eyed stare, he offered a crooked grin that curled my toes. Even my sore ones. “You had some drywall stuck there.”
Unable to speak, I nodded. Maybe a little wooing wasn’t so bad.
The day after the demo,every muscle in my body ached. Muscles I didn’t even know I had were angry. The soreness gave me a new respect for people who did that kind of work all the time. There was no way I’d have made it through my wedding shoot on Saturday without slathering on half a tube of muscle cream.
By Sunday dinner, I could at least exit a chair without moaning, though twisting too far the wrong way still elicited an uncontrollable whimper. I’d gotten through helping Mom prepare the meal without wincing, but when I reached too far for the potatoes, the truth was out.
“What did you do?” Mom asked.
“I’ve been helping at the house.”
“Helping?” Dad repeated. “Helping with what?”
I buttered one of Mom’s homemade yeast rolls. “With the demo. Before we can fix it up we have to take out the stuff that’s already there. Counters, floors, some walls.”
Mom stopped with a spoonful of potatoes in mid-air. “You helped knock out a wall?”
“I did.” Proud of my blisters, I held out my hand. “See. These are from the hammer.”
“Donna Loraine,” Dad said, “you hurt yourself in that house just last week. You’re paying people to do this work. Let them earn their money.”
Calvin and his team more than earned their money, as far as I was concerned. My contribution was nothing compared to theirs.
“It’s called sweat equity, Dad. No one made me do it. I wanted to take part in getting things started. Don’t worry. I won’t be helping them put it back together.” I hoped to contribute to the work somehow, but he didn’t need to know that. “We uncovered the original linoleum from when the house was built. Do you remember it?”
Dad loaded his plate. “I spent hours playing on that floor. Of course, I remember it. That was the ugliest floor ever.”
The flowery one was, maybe, but not the original. “No it wasn’t. Those little squares are kind of fun. I plan to find something similar for the new powder room we’re putting in under the stairs.”
“You’re adding a bathroom?” Mom asked.
“I’m adding two, actually. One of the bedrooms will be split into an ensuite and a walk in closet for my bedroom. It’s going to be amazing.”
They set down their forks almost in unison. “Donna, have you thought this through?” Mom said.
“Thought what through?”
“This renovation. Are you sure the money you’re putting into this will be worth it?”
I didn’t understand the question. “What do you mean by worth it? This is going to be my forever home, so I’m making it exactly what I want.”
Dad steepled his fingers in front of his nose. “You might do too much.”
How could I do too much? This was my house. I wasn’t putting in a swimming pool or a bowling alley. I had a budget and everything Calvin and I had planned out fit within that number.
“You guys need to stop worrying. I’m not doing anything crazy.”
“Knocking out walls and adding bathrooms sounds crazy. Think about the resale value.”
The resale value was going to be way higher than what I paid for it, but none of that mattered because I wouldn’t be selling the house. Ever.
“Did you miss the forever house part?” I looked from one to the other and both stared back with concern in their eyes. “What are you two dancing around?”
Mom lifted her fork again. “That isn’t the best neighborhood. Your property value will go up only so far. If you’d bought a house over here by us?—”
“We’ve been over this,” I said through clenched teeth. “I don’t want to live over here. I want to live in Bammy’s house. And Calvin is working hard to improve the neighborhood. It isn’t like it used to be. He’s already flipped several houses and plans to do more.”
“Short of picking up the houses and moving them somewhere else, I doubt there’s much anyone can do to change that area.”
That’s when it hit me. My parents believed they were too good for Bammy’s neighborhood. They’d gotten out and had this big house in a nicer part of town so now they were, what? In a better class of people? Too good for Lofton Street? Better than the people they grew up with?
Bammy belonged in that neighborhood, and she loved living there. She was proud to live there. What did they think of her? That she was beneath them, too?
Putting down my fork, I lifted the napkin off my lap and set it on the table. “I’ve bought the house, and I’m going to live in it. Before I do that, I’m going to make it exactly what I want, while preserving the love and pride Bammy put into it.” Rising to my feet, I added, “I’m not worried what the house will be worth, because I know what it’s worth to me. Considering you grew up there, Dad, I’d think you’d feel the same. When it’s finished you can visit or not visit, but you aren’t going to insult my house or my neighbors.”
“Sit down,” Dad said. “You’re being too sensitive. We’re only trying to make you see the reality of the situation. It’s a bad investment, honey.”
How could he say that? “No, it isn’t, and if you’d get your nose out of the air and go see it, you’d know that.” I pushed in my chair. “I’m tired of defending this decision. Believe what you want, but remember, this is where you came from. Think about that before insulting everyone who’s still there.”
Mom leapt to her feet. “Donna, don’t go. We don’t have to talk about it.”
I brushed her hand off my arm. “I’m not hungry anymore, and I have work to catch up on.”
Before I reached the door, she said, “We’ll see you next Sunday, right?”
Would they? This was the only time I ever saw them. They never came to my apartment. Never asked for a random lunch meet up. I came here every Sunday, for every holiday and celebration, but they never came to me. In fact, I could count on one hand the number of times they’d visited my apartment, and I’d lived there for six years.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “We’ll see.”