Chapter 9 Marsh #2
“Yeah,” I say, not mentioning that Julia and my mom pressured me into it a few years ago and that I pretty much live paycheck to paycheck because of it.
“Oh.” She turns her focus ahead and starts walking.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She waves a hand.
“No, tell me.”
“I’m just…” She hesitates. “I’m sorry for saying all of that. If I knew you and Julia bought—”
“Don’t be sorry,” I say. “You’re right.”
She leaves it at that, and we walk up the gravel driveway. “So, what I’m doing is writing about this from a very excited perspective, but once we break up, people will be able to look back and see all the mistakes we made.”
“Have I thanked you for not using my name in this piece?”
“Not today you haven’t.” She looks up at me, a wide grin on her face.
“Thank you for not using my name,” I reiterate.
There are a few people standing outside as we approach the entrance. There’s a family with kids running around and then a younger couple standing with their real estate agent looking incredibly stressed out.
We enter through the front door, and I’m taken aback by how striking the home is.
It feels like a modern country home with white shiplap walls and light wooden floors.
The ceilings feel at least twenty feet high, and in the foyer, French doors lead to a backyard with a tree-filled view of the hills just north of Altadena.
“Shit,” I say under my breath.
“Right?” Lucy looks at me.
We walk through the living room that holds a brick fireplace and gold-framed vintage artwork.
There are about fifteen other people in the home too, and I wonder how many of them are seriously able to afford this place.
We then make our way to the kitchen with a beautiful white marble island and an olive-green backsplash behind the range stove.
“This kitchen makes me want to cook,” Lucy says, her hands tracing over the gold hardware.
“Do you like cooking?”
“No, but I could with this kitchen.” She walks over to the island. “Imagine hosting a dinner and just having friends hang around here? It’s perfect!”
“Yeah, and you could host outside too.” I point to another set of French doors that leads to the backyard. “Easy access.”
“Oh my god, that’s so smart…and add some fairy lights in the trees?” Lucy looks up at me, her eyes beaming. “And look, there’s a breakfast nook. Just picture it: getting some writing done in the morning with a cup of coffee, a dog sitting at your feet.”
“What kind of dog?” I ask, not sure why I’m entertaining the idea of something that will never happen.
“Doesn’t matter,” she says. “As long as it’s a rescue.”
“I love big dogs,” I say.
Lucy smiles. “Great, a big rescue dog it is.”
There’s a pause and it feels like maybe thinking about this alternate reality, the one where I could be happy and have all the things people say are so wonderful, isn’t so crazy.
A couple walks in following their realtor who’s talking about how the island is made from Calacatta marble, “One of the most expensive in the world.”
“I wonder if there’s an office.” I turn away.
“Let’s see.” Lucy makes her way down the hallway and then turns in to one of the rooms that has another fireplace. “Oh my…”
“Safe to say this is the primary bedroom.” I peek into a bathroom with a skylight that looks equal in size to the room we’re in.
“This room is huge.” Lucy stands still in shock. “Imagine lying here at night, with the fireplace on while you can see the backyard from the window.”
“Just put on a movie, light a few candles…”
“I need it,” Lucy begs. “Let’s get it.”
“Great.” I surrender to this little charade. “Why not?”
She starts walking back into the hallway, and I follow her into another room. It’s still big but simply decorated with only a bed and a nightstand.
“Potential office?” She looks at me.
“Or a guest bedroom?” I ask.
“Hmm.” She walks around the room. “My parents would never need to stay over because they live an hour away.”
“My mom sometimes comes down to visit,” I add. “It would be nice for her to have a room to herself instead of getting a hotel.”
“And what about Oliver, Quinn, and Sadie?” Lucy asks, and I pause for a moment, caught off guard. She remembered their names.
“It’s usually me visiting them in the Bay Area, but if we had a house like this, then they’d definitely want to visit.”
“Great, so this will be the guest bedroom for the family.” Lucy walks back out to the hallway. “I’d be surprised if there wasn’t a third bedroom.”
I follow her and we pass a bathroom, a laundry room, and then finally at the end of the hall, a room set up like an office.
“There we go,” I say as we step inside.
“Okay, so you have an office to write in.” Lucy nudges my arm. “There’s a guest bedroom, the kitchen is perfect…I think we have to get it.”
“It can be your office,” I say.
“I can use the breakfast nook.”
“I have an office at my place now,” I say. “You should experience having one.”
Lucy’s lips curl into a sheepish smile. “Really? My own office?”
“Your own office.” I nod.
“Wow.” Her eyes light up. “Well now you have to get this house for us.”
I observe Lucy as she walks through the rest of the house. I catch how excited she gets when she fantasizes about the what-ifs. For the remainder of the afternoon, I decide to suspend my disbelief and think about the what-ifs too.