Page 29 of The Fix-Up

“The one at the end is Ollie’s room. I haven’t been in there since, you know. It didn’t feel right.” Pushing aside a wave of sadness at the thought of Ollie, I patted the door across from mine. “This is a spare bedroom. For guests.”

He pressed his lips together but didn’t say a word. He wanted to though, I could see it in his eyes, the way they fairly glistened with sarcasm.

I opened the next door. “And this is the only bathroom. At least for now. I think there might be one in Ollie’s room, though.”

The bathroom was very…pink. Pink tile, pink bathtub, pink sink, pink flowered wallpaper, pink curtain. It was a lot of pink. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.

“This is very… pink.”

“Oliver and I call it the pink palace. It even has a throne.” I pointed at the toilet and snickered.

Unamused, Gil stood in the middle of the bathroom and turned in a slow circle.

“It used to have pink carpet. That was one of the first things I removed when I could.”

He stared at the tub. “Where’s the handle for the faucet?”

I picked up a pair of pliers I kept on the lip of the bathtub. “It broke off, but this works well enough.”

I hedged around him, brushing his shoulder, and showed him how easy it was. Except it took me four tries and one hardyank before the water sputtered out. Gil’s look said he wasn’t impressed.

“Is there something wrong with the floor?” He pressed the tip of his shoe into the cheap linoleum that had been under the carpet. I was sure there was a lot of water damage under that. Probably mold. Maybe a large family of armadillos.

“That’s nothing. You should see the living room floor.” Whoops.

“What?”

“These old houses. So many quirks. That’s what makes them special.”

His hands went to his hips and his frown deepened. “Right.”

“Lots of potential, don’t you think?” I led him out of the bathroom as Oliver barreled out of his room, waving a plastic figure in his hand. “Mr. Dalton, this is my favorite dinosaur.”

“Velociraptor, right?” Gil said.

“If you want, you could come play with me later. I’m doing Dinosaur Extincting.”

“No,” I said firmly to Oliver. “Mr. Dalton isn’t here to play. He lives outside. We live inside. We can be polite, but we aren’t…friends.”

Oliver’s forehead wrinkled. “But why not?”

How to answer that one? I pulled out the trusted answer parents had used for generations. “Because I said so. Go on back to your room.” I patted him on the head. “I’ll come play with you in a few minutes, okay?”

His shoulders drooped. “Yes, ma’am.” He walked, albeit slowly, down the hall and disappeared into his room.

Gil stopped in front of the only door I hadn’t addressed, his hand going to the doorknob. “What’s in here?”

Without thinking, I threw myself in between him and the door and wrapped my fingers around his wrist. He froze. We stared at each other for a long beat.

He smelled good, like the expensive laundry detergent I only splurged on when the budget allowed, and I had a fleeting thought of leaning in and taking a bigger whiff. The urge was so strong, I pressed my back against the door to put more space between us. No smelling the enemy. I needed to remember he wanted to sell my house.

“This is nothing. Just a little closet. Let’s go see the living room.”

“But I want to see what’s in this closet.”

“No, you don’t. It’s just…stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

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