Her All Along

No, it was time for me to start new elsewhere.

Even though I was only a teacher, I worked at a private academy and made more than chump change. Getting a mortgage wouldn’t be too difficult, although I wouldn’t be able to live in this specific neighborhood. But I wouldn’t have to leave the Downtown district entirely.

I flipped through the pages I’d printed and saw several places not too far from here.

Did I really want a house, though? Maybe I should venture south to the Valley and find an apartment. But then I’d have an extra twenty minutes to and from work every day.

I was a bit spoiled in that area. Many around here commuted between our town and Seattle, approximately two hours south of Camassia. Even Vancouver was closer than Seattle. And here I was, reluctant to commute between two neighborhoods in the same town.

I sipped my coffee and stopped at a familiar house that needed some work. Or a lot of it. It was nearby, on the other side of the playground behind my street.

I had over two months off starting tomorrow…

I’d seen this listing months ago, and I was sure it’d been set at a higher price back then. Hmm. Two bedrooms upstairs. Everything had to be repainted; new floors needed to be installed. The kitchen was severely outdated, as were both bathrooms. But so what? I could fix it up, couldn’t I? It was within my budget, and I’d get to stay close to the marina.

Most people wanted something that was perfectly restored. Free of cracks and dents.

I chose to see the potential in things that were broken.

They just needed some care.

This one might actually result in a profit in the end too. The house was on a good street, in a good school district, and it had the same theme as the rest of this part of town. Victorian, older, idyllic. When all was said and done, it could look much like my current house—only smaller. We had four bedrooms here, which weren’t necessary. Four bedrooms belonged to couples with dreams of future children, and I hadn’t been one of those people in a long time.

If ever. Not with her.

In retrospect, I knew I’d set up goals within my marriage that would make me look normal. I’d wanted things that allowed me to blend in and be one of the many. I’d aimed to have what I’d grown up wishing for.

I decided to check out the run-down house tomorrow.

Taking another swig of my coffee, I replaced the listings with the paper—only to remember I didn’t have to go through the headlines today. I had a graduation ceremony to attend, no classes. I wouldn’t be peering into the dead eyes of new seniors until August.

The only students I enjoyed teaching were the AP students and the underprivileged kids the academy recruited from Camas High. Which was the first school I’d taught at, however briefly. Camas was a low-income neighborhood adjacent to Downtown, just ten minutes south of here, and it was where I’d grown up. A place I didn’t like returning to. Too many memories.

“Oh hi, Mister!”

Jesus. I almost spilled my coffee, and my heart jumped.

As I refolded the paper and set down my coffee, I cast a glance toward the fence just as Pipsqueak left her front yard and headed to mine. She offered a sleepy grin while she opened the gate to my yard.

“You’re up early,” she noted.

I couldn’t say I was pleased with the interruption, but I wasn’t going to be an ass to Darius’s little sister. She wasn’t more than twelve.

“So are you.”

She scratched her messy bed head and plopped down next to me. She was wearing My Little Pony PJs.

“It’s too hot to sleep in my room.” She shrugged. “Dad’s gonna fix my ceiling fan this weekend.”

“Nice.” I side-eyed her, wondering if she was here to stay. I actually didn’t mind her—or her sister, who was a year older. They were both autistic, and I could always count on them for honesty. Sometimes, it was wrapped up in a brick and delivered straight into my face, but hey.

“You look old today,” she said, scrunching her nose.

Kind of like that.

“Thanks.” I frowned to myself and lifted my mug again.

She just sat there and looked out over my yard, drumming her fingers along her knees.

She visited sometimes, randomly like this, so I wasn’t unfamiliar with her quirks. There were also the times her folks invited me over for dinner. The Quinns had half adopted me over the years, starting when I’d met Jake in college. He was quite a few years older than me and had been in the middle of switching career paths. He’d wanted to teach too, but then 9/11 changed everything, and he enlisted in the Army. Then I’d happened to move in next door to their folks, and I’d met the rest of the loud, crazy family.