Chapter 5 Koby
Koby
The fifth contractor I’ve had through the house is being annoyingly meticulous. Not that I don’t appreciate their attention to detail. But after the last four taking their sweet-ass time, I’m good to pay whatever as long as I can get this over with.
The young bloke pops out of the last bedroom, phone in his hand, taking his notes.
“Thanks for your patience, mate. Just want to make sure I covered everything so there are no nasty surprises. There have been a few houses lately that have had significant water damage, and some things that are dated and impacted by the salt water.”
“Oh?” I question. None of the others mentioned this.
“Yeah. I’ve noticed it quite a bit with these older houses along the coast. I’ve recently completed an extensive refurb on a beauty over at Tamarama.
They had let it get along quite a bit. And until we started getting further into their repairs is when we noticed the derogation.
So now it’s something standard I look into.
Yours is nothing like that, and while they are more cosmetic at the moment, it will eventually deteriorate and need doing.
Happy to show you, if you want?” He motions around.
We walk the house, and he points out areas that are bowing, or concave or a slightly different colour to the rest of the wall, floor or ceiling.
“Surprised you haven’t noticed these?” He remarks.
“Honestly, I’m not really home for more than a few months. So I don’t look that extensively at the house.”
“Understandable. Well, let me get this report together and send it over to you. Take some time to have a think about it, get some more quotes done for this water damage, and you can make a decision with all the information.”
“You’re the last quote I was getting, and you’re the first person who’s mentioned any of this.”
He grimaces, but corrects himself quickly. “Righto. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news here, mate.”
“Nah, I appreciate it. Means the other guys weren’t as thorough as you and probably haven’t done many jobs around here, hey?”
“Absolutely. Let me get this quote sorted, and I can also provide you with some other guys who can come around and quote you on short notice. They are guys I would book to do my own house. Honest and legit.”
“Sure, sounds good. Thanks...” I pause, forgetting his name.
“Liam. I’ll email you everything when I get home this afternoon. Liam Deerubbin is who you’ll get an email from.” He sticks out his hand, and I shake it. I’ll probably be going with Liam. Good vibes only.
He heads out of the house, and I’m left looking around the space and the decision I need to make.
I head back to Rayna’s in her car, which she kindly offered for me to take. Kindly offered, meaning aggressively shoved the key into my hands, and pushed me towards her garage and into the car.
“What’s the point of having a car if it’s not getting driven when needed?” She reasoned, not allowing me to take a cab.
Entering the house, it’s the opposite of entering my deafeningly silent abode. The TV is going, Rayna’s in the kitchen rattling pots and plates around making dinner. Something to come home to. No, I need to keep my walls up. Play this all safe. Go aloof, and just be friends.
“Heya,” I call out, so as not to startle her.
“Hello! How did everything go?” She asks as I walk into the kitchen. Leaning against a counter edge facing her.
“Interesting. Had four blokes come through, taking their time looking at everything, and then the last one came through, and mentioned a whole lot of damage from living close to the ocean and the saltwater impact.”
“That does make sense, but frustrating if the first four made no mention.”
“Agreed. And this kid seems to have worked locally, and so is aware of the issues and how to address them. But he mentioned completely gutting and redoing it as we did the walk through.”
“Wow, that’ll be a huge job. Worth it, but huge.”
“For sure.”
“Are there any issues in refurbing the house?”
“Nah, it’s not like it's the house Aria grew up in, and I’m holding on to that memory.
I bought it because it was where I wanted to live in the off-season.
Doing it up will help keep it modern, and eliminate these issues before they get too bad.
Will also help resale value if I go down that route.
But also need to think of where to stay while this work goes on. ”
“One, don’t make me argue with you about staying here again.
That song has been sung. Don’t be a pain in the ass requesting it from the DJ again.
And two; you could always ask the guy who did this refurb.
” Rayna simultaneously waves a finger in the air, gesturing to the house, and reaches in her pocket for her phone.
“He was really knowledgeable of the area and would always provide me with a few options, varying in prices. But he pretty much nailed everything. I couldn’t fault him.
Could send him through to have a look for a second opinion.
” She scrolls the screen. “Liam Deerubbin was his name. I can send you his contact details.”
I pull Liam’s business card from my pocket and hold it up for her to see. “One Liam Deerubbin.”
Rayna raises her arms and shrugs. “Well, you have my rave review of him, and you can look around here, and check out his work in finer detail.”
Scanning the vast eggshell and grey accented room; everything is flawless. Finishings are immaculate and clean. The attention to detail in everything from the ceiling’s embossed pattern to the floors meticulously laid reclaimed wood is quality.
“Yeah. To be fair, I’m sold on him. He sounded genuine.”
“He is lovely and a local boy too. Grew up off Parsley Bay, a few streets away from Courtney's house. I asked if he might've known Aria as it sounded like he lived close to Courtney’s house and around the same age as Aria, but he didn’t know her name.”
I let his full name roll around my head and continue to draw a blank.
“Not sure I have heard the name myself. I might ask Aria when I speak with her next.”
A pot boils over, demanding her attention back to the stove, and I enjoy watching her movements.
How she delicately places the fresh pasta inside, that was waiting patiently on the side of the stove. Keeping her attentive eye while they cook, stirring here and there, needing mere moments. I could watch her do nothing and be enthralled by every second.
To distract myself, I ask. “Did your chef mate make the pasta?”
She turns to me in mock horror. “I have been toiling away in the kitchen all day making this!” Ending with a grin. “And by toiling, I mean letting all this pretty much do its thing in the kitchen while I watched TV and tending to it minimally.”
Breathing in the smell of the deep and robust pasta sauce simmering on the stove is hard to miss and also takes me back to a familiar time.
“Your dad’s sauce.”
“Good olfactory memory.”
I extend my hands out. “Why have a great skill when you can have a completely useless one?”
She laughs, and I love hearing her laugh loud and uncontrolled before she turns back to the stove, and takes the pot off the stove, tipping the pasta into the colander in the sink to drain before throwing the pasta back into the pot to place on the stove in front of the simmering sauce and scooping it onto the pasta. Mesmerising.
“Need me to do anything?” I ask, glancing at the table already set for us and feeling a little helpless.
“Nope. Almost ready.” She now moves to plating up the pasta. “Take a seat, and I’ll bring these over.”
Moving to the dining table, everything set so picturesque, so…perfect. It’s too much. “Actually, just excuse me for a moment. Please start without me. I just have to run upstairs quickly.” As I dart up the stairs to give myself some space.
This is too much. It’s too easy, too comfortable.
I can feel my heart dip and ache with each moment I can’t reach out and touch her.
I thought I had buried these feelings deep enough, but she has eroded any sense of my suppression with her warmth and radiance.
How can I remain here and maintain my distance and stay within my walls?
I enter my bedroom’s ensuite and rinse my face.
The cold water icy on my scolding face. I take several moments to stare myself down in the mirror, not bothering with the water that trickles through my short beard down to my shirt.
Get it together, man. Fuck.
Taking my shirt off, I dry my face with it. Discarding it into the laundry basket, and head toward my suitcase in the bedroom to get a new one.
I can do this. I repeat a few times, heading back down the stairs.