9. Kendra
Kendra
SOLD
The bold red announcement cannot be missed on top of the For Sale sign in the Savellis’ front lawn. Sold! How is that even possible? They just put it on the market. I haven’t even seen any people come for a showing, not that I am here all the time, but still . . . Sold?
I’m standing there, frozen in my driveway, staring at the sign when Dom comes out of his house.
“Hello, Kendra,” he says, his kind, southern drawl pulling me from my stupor.
“Hey, wow. Sold, huh? That was so fast.” I try my best to sound cheerful.
“Yes! We were surprised too, but it’s all working out perfectly.
The man buying the place we actually know quite well, so you will be in good hands.
We don’t officially close for thirty days.
Since we are moving across the country, a lot of the larger pieces of furniture we planned to donate or try to sell, but we’re just going to leave right here for him. ” Dom smiles at his good fortune.
“That works out well for both of you, how lucky.” I nod in agreement.
“Yes, and it allows me and Nicola to leave sooner. We are packing everything up and hitting the road early next week! Then he’s just going to move right in.”
“Before you sign the papers?” I ask, suspiciously.
“I know it’s not conventional as far as sales go, but we have known him and his family his whole life. We trust him implicitly and know that this was all meant to be.” He reaches out and rubs my arm reassuringly.
“Okay, I just don’t want you to get screwed over and have some squatter camped out in your house. And me stuck with a loser, scary neighbor.” I lean into his side as Dom pulls me into a fatherly hug.
“Kendra, we’d never leave here knowing you were not staying next to good people. We love you like family, and family looks out for one another. Trust me, this is a good thing.” He plants a kiss on the top of my head.
“Okay, Dom. I trust you.”
A few days later I am in my pottery studio, losing myself to the hypnotic therapy of throwing clay on my wheel.
Letting my hands slide through the cool, slippery mass that waits to become whatever I want, whatever inspiration has wedged its way into my artist soul.
Sometimes I have little control over what pours out, hands and heart taking over and working in tandem to create what I need.
I have been out here since before the sun yawned over the hazy summer clouds, trying to beat the heat.
Also, sleep has been elusive ever since the hospital.
I toss and turn, unable to find any real comfort or rest. I have been avoiding everyone, including Lainey, which makes me feel guilty and like a shit best friend.
Not only do we have wedding things to work on, I know that she is actually worried about me, as evidenced by her endless text messages and threats to no longer give me the space I asked for in a clipped text, acknowledgment that I was in fact alive.
A car door slams nearby making my practiced hands slip, squishing the oversized mug I was forming out of my favorite stoneware clay.
“Damn it!” I sigh with a mix of deep frustration and exhaustion.
Looking at the table of ten other mugs I threw successfully this morning, I decide to call it quits.
After putting the clay away and cleaning up, I lock my garage and set out into the bright morning light.
Having been hunched over my wheel, my back aches and I long for a good stretch and a scorching hot bath.
Then coffee. So much coffee.
As I’m about to go through my kitchen door, someone steps out into the Savellis’ backyard, deck boards creaking under heavy feet. If I could take back my words that I said to Dom standing in my driveway last week and shove them down his old throat, I would.
This cannot be happening.
“Good morning, neighbor!” Eli greets me cheerily, bouncing his baby girl in his arms.