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Authors: Kathryn R. Biel
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living room. Or wherever. He just never gave me the chance to."
"Too bad we can't ask him."
"Oh, I bet he's glad he got out of this one." I stop and think for a minute. I'm getting pretty sleepy. "You know, when I said I didn't think we'd ever talk again, I didn't mean it like this."
"Of course you didn't, Sadie. There's no way you could have caused this."
I'm drifting off and I feel the weight of a blanket on me. Mumbling, I speak, probably just to myself, "But somehow I did and I don't know what to do about it."
CHAPTER TWELVE
The closing is at nine a.m. I can't believe I'm doing this. Rob's death and the chaotic aftermath over the past three months certainly gave me some perspective. No matter my age, no matter my dating status, no matter my ability to kill innocent (or not-so-innocent) people, I need to get on with my life. I need to live for the now. And that, for me, includes buying my own house. And the day's finally here.
After hibernating for a few more days after the wake debacle, I pulled myself up by my bootstraps and got on with my life. Years of watching HGTV has left me with a hankering to own my own place, where I can knock down walls and re-tile something. I started looking for a house—three towns over from where I currently live. I could stand the longer commute in exchange for a change of scenery. I'd still be close enough to go to the nursing home every day after school but I wouldn't have to see the same people all day every day. I probably wouldn't run into students after school.
And I'd be able to focus on my house. My HOUSE! I'm going to own a house. It's an adorable little Craftsman bungalow. Best part—it's blue. Worst part—it needs a whole lot of work. My dream is to restore it to its former glory, with all the modern conveniences, of course. It's gonna take a lot of cash and even more elbow grease. I'm going to do as much work as I can by myself. Yes, I know I'm a girl, but it's no longer the dark ages. And I'm a girl who spent almost every Sunday in my dad's shed, assisting him on one project after another. He was always working on the funeral home, trying to restore and keep up the old house.
Sure, I will need help with the big things, and I'll hire out for those. While waiting for the house to be mine, I've been watching YouTube video after YouTube video on how to do a lot of the projects I have on my to-do list. Here's the secret—I've been in love with this house since I first laid eyes on it. It's just down the street from a bookstore and coffee shop. Far enough off the beaten path but close enough to keep me in the swing of things. It's in a neighborhood that has restaurants and shops as well. I love everything about it. And with the long Memorial Day weekend coming up, I'm ready to start ripping out carpeting and renovating.
Once the closing is done, I head to the nursing home to share my news with Dad. Just like everything in my life, I want to share it with him. "Dad! I'm finally a homeowner! Everything's signed, sealed and delivered. I own 6258 Grove Street. You would totally love it. It needs tons of T.L.C., but you taught me well, and I think I'll be okay. I hope I'll be okay."
I flop down in the chair and wait for a minute. I know there will be no response, but I like to pretend. "It was a steal too. Not a steal, but undervalued to say the least. It was a bank foreclosure. Good thing too, because I need that extra cash for renovations. I guess all these years of tutoring during the week and waitressing all summer have paid off. I have a home because of it."
Stroking Dad's hand, I try not to notice how old it seems. He's only been here a few years. Four now. Some days, it feels like he just got here. Others, it feels like he's been here for decades.
"Hi, Sadie. How are things today?"
Helga's grown on me in the last few months. "Great. I closed on the house today. As soon as I leave here, I'm going over there to get started. There's a bit of work that needs to be
"Too bad we can't ask him."
"Oh, I bet he's glad he got out of this one." I stop and think for a minute. I'm getting pretty sleepy. "You know, when I said I didn't think we'd ever talk again, I didn't mean it like this."
"Of course you didn't, Sadie. There's no way you could have caused this."
I'm drifting off and I feel the weight of a blanket on me. Mumbling, I speak, probably just to myself, "But somehow I did and I don't know what to do about it."
CHAPTER TWELVE
The closing is at nine a.m. I can't believe I'm doing this. Rob's death and the chaotic aftermath over the past three months certainly gave me some perspective. No matter my age, no matter my dating status, no matter my ability to kill innocent (or not-so-innocent) people, I need to get on with my life. I need to live for the now. And that, for me, includes buying my own house. And the day's finally here.
After hibernating for a few more days after the wake debacle, I pulled myself up by my bootstraps and got on with my life. Years of watching HGTV has left me with a hankering to own my own place, where I can knock down walls and re-tile something. I started looking for a house—three towns over from where I currently live. I could stand the longer commute in exchange for a change of scenery. I'd still be close enough to go to the nursing home every day after school but I wouldn't have to see the same people all day every day. I probably wouldn't run into students after school.
And I'd be able to focus on my house. My HOUSE! I'm going to own a house. It's an adorable little Craftsman bungalow. Best part—it's blue. Worst part—it needs a whole lot of work. My dream is to restore it to its former glory, with all the modern conveniences, of course. It's gonna take a lot of cash and even more elbow grease. I'm going to do as much work as I can by myself. Yes, I know I'm a girl, but it's no longer the dark ages. And I'm a girl who spent almost every Sunday in my dad's shed, assisting him on one project after another. He was always working on the funeral home, trying to restore and keep up the old house.
Sure, I will need help with the big things, and I'll hire out for those. While waiting for the house to be mine, I've been watching YouTube video after YouTube video on how to do a lot of the projects I have on my to-do list. Here's the secret—I've been in love with this house since I first laid eyes on it. It's just down the street from a bookstore and coffee shop. Far enough off the beaten path but close enough to keep me in the swing of things. It's in a neighborhood that has restaurants and shops as well. I love everything about it. And with the long Memorial Day weekend coming up, I'm ready to start ripping out carpeting and renovating.
Once the closing is done, I head to the nursing home to share my news with Dad. Just like everything in my life, I want to share it with him. "Dad! I'm finally a homeowner! Everything's signed, sealed and delivered. I own 6258 Grove Street. You would totally love it. It needs tons of T.L.C., but you taught me well, and I think I'll be okay. I hope I'll be okay."
I flop down in the chair and wait for a minute. I know there will be no response, but I like to pretend. "It was a steal too. Not a steal, but undervalued to say the least. It was a bank foreclosure. Good thing too, because I need that extra cash for renovations. I guess all these years of tutoring during the week and waitressing all summer have paid off. I have a home because of it."
Stroking Dad's hand, I try not to notice how old it seems. He's only been here a few years. Four now. Some days, it feels like he just got here. Others, it feels like he's been here for decades.
"Hi, Sadie. How are things today?"
Helga's grown on me in the last few months. "Great. I closed on the house today. As soon as I leave here, I'm going over there to get started. There's a bit of work that needs to be
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