A Couple of Years Later
Eli
“Idon’t like her,” Em grumbles quietly to me, and that’s when I know our real estate agent has really fucked up.
My wife likes everybody by default, until they piss her off.
And it takes a lot to piss her off; she’ll give people a few mulligans first. I wonder what it was that pushed her into frowning territory: the way Bianca from Wingham Francis Estate Agents keeps laughing at everything I say and touching my arm, or the way she keeps overtalking us both as she waxes lyrical about the house we’re viewing.
“Easy, Chere,” I whisper back, “take that rage out on me later.” It pulls an amused smile from her, and I kiss the top of her head.
“And this breakfast nook is just darling!” Bianca exclaims with significantly more enthusiasm than it’s worth.
This house is nice, and all, but I wouldn’t go into such raptures over the three legged stools and polished counter at the end of the kitchen.
“Imagine the breakfast fun,” she continues, her eyes flicking to me again.
I scratch my eyebrow, and smother a grin as I feel Em stiffen up next to me.
The innuendo in Bianca’s words is not as subtle as she seems to think, and her covert flirtatiousness is annoying the shit out of me.
I’m here with my beloved wife, idiot. And she’s gonna blow a gasket if it doesn’t stop.
“Let’s move on to the upstairs rooms, shall we?” Em’s not choosing violence yet, but her words are crisp and as brisk as a winter hike.
“Of course. I can’t for you both to see the bedrooms, they’re so well decorated!
” Bianca keeps enthusing about various features as we head up the stairs.
Again, there’s nothing wrong with this house.
It’s just that there’s nothing that amazing about it, and we both agreed before we got here that we wanted the wow factor for our forever home.
Because we wouldn’t spend Leo’s wedding gift on anything less than that.
We have had a wow moment. Yesterday, we went to view a house that’s up for auction in a couple of days, and the look we gave each other the moment we were through the door hasn’t yet been matched anywhere else.
We’re only viewing this place to make sure we’ve checked all our possibilities, but the truth is, I don’t think it compares, and I think Em is inclined to agree.
The auction property on Harris Street may be a wreck inside, but the possibilities are incredible.
Knock through a few walls, gut and redo a few rooms, and we’d have the home of our dreams, and we’re likely to get it for a knock down price given the state it’s in.
I don’t mind getting my hands dirty remodelling, and Em’s a dab hand with a paintbrush.
Better that than taking out a mortgage to buy a place we’re not a hundred percent in love with.
“So,” Bianca says, bringing me back to reality, “here is the master bedroom…” The way she dimples at me when Em’s back is turned is meant to be inviting, I think, but I don’t react, turning my attention back to the pink walls and Live Laugh Love stencil behind the bed.
Em’s nose wrinkles in that cute way she has when she thinks something is a little gross.
What’s her turn of phrase? ‘A bit naff’.
I love when she’s all British about things.
“Spacious,” she says charitably, which is true at least. But the bubblegum walls would have to go if she actually likes this place more than Harris.
“Oh, absolutely,” Bianca replies, glancing briefly at Em before returning her gaze to me.
“Plenty of room. And wait until you see the other bedrooms!” She says it with the same flourish you’d expect someone to use when saying, ‘wait until you see the free gold bullion bars included in the sale’. Is she on uppers?
We file out, letting her guide us to the other rooms. “It’s perfect for a growing family!”
Here we go.
Em and I share an eye roll behind the agent’s back. “It’ll just be us,” Em says, pleasantly but firmly, “but Eli can use one of them for an art studio. And I’ll find use for the others, I’m sure.”
“Oh. Don’t you have kids?”
“Nope, and no plans to, either,” I add. Leave it there. Leave it fucking there…
“But you’d both have such beautiful babies,” she cries incredulously.
Uh-oh. Em’s smile has taken on that rictus quality she has when she’s getting mad. “Thank you for the compliment,” she says, and I can hear how hard she’s gritting her teeth, “but this is not our plan.”
Bianca shrugs, sucking on her teeth. “You’ll regret it if you don’t.
My kids are my life. They’re the whole point of living, after all.
And if you’re not going to use this house for its intended purpose, it might not be right for you.
A family with children would get much better use out of it.
Perhaps we can look at what else we have on our books for you?
Would you be interested in a penthouse flat, for example? ”
I can’t believe she went there. What planet is she on, to think this is in any way an appropriate thing to say, let alone good customer service?
Em turns to me. “Do you want to take this one, or shall I?”
I shrug, filled with pride and anticipation. “Go for it, Chere.”
Em claps her hands and rubs them together, taking a deep breath with a smile I know to be dangerous.
“Bianca, this is your lucky day, because my husband and I are childfree by choice.” My lips twitch at the territorial emphasis on ‘my husband’, and Bianca flinches and starts to go pink, knowing she’s been made.
“But for all you know, I could have had multiple miscarriages, or suffered infant loss, or simply be unable to have desperately wanted kids. And your patronising words could have caused us real upset.” Her eye contact with a rapidly wilting agent is laser sharp.
“And it is quite the assumption that we don’t deserve this place because we are childfree.
Extra bedrooms aren’t just for children, and while I’m very happy for you that your kids are your life, please respect the fact that they are not for us, that we know our lives better than you do, and we will most certainly not regret it if we don’t have them.
” Em’s smile is a thing of evil beauty. I love when she stands up for herself, and for us. It shows how secure she is now. “OK?”
“Um…” Bianca clears her throat. “O-OK.”
“Great. Now, I’m not going to waste your time or ours any further: this property is not for us. Good luck finding a nice family to buy it!” And, grabbing my hand, she pulls us both down the stairs and out the front door, leaving Miss Judgemental Douche gaping.
Dusting her hands comically, my wife grins at me. “Another one bites the dust.” I grin back. This is definitely not our first rodeo with rude parenthood enthusiasts that don’t know when to back off, and it won’t be our last.
“Masterfully done.” I sling an arm around her as we head back home. “Harris Street’s the one, isn’t it?”
“Yep. One hundred percent.”
“Bring on the auction, Chere.”