Page 1 of Midnight Prince
Hazel
“Sugar, honey, iced–” The pain in my thumb was instant and needed stronger words. “Fuck!” I yelled out. The hammer I had been using slipped and smashed right into it. I held it tight to my chest and danced around in pain on the dusty wooden floorboards. I hoped I wasn’t going to lose the nail.
Why, oh why did I think I could do this? Buy an old run-down house and renovate it by myself. Oh wait, I know why. It was because David wouldn’t take our relationship to the next level, after seven years together. He told me he would never marry me, let alone move in together. I was a young fool in love.
I broke it off with him, downed a bottle of red, and scrolled through my Facebook looking at the happily married couples. People I went to school with all living the dream I wanted.
Most of my friends from college were on their third baby, and here I was, single and living alone in a city I didn’t want to be in. All because I thought I was in love. Well, I was. I was in love with David, but that was – if I think back on it now – very one sided. I couldn’t believe how dumb I was. I hated my apartment; I hated my job. I saved a decent deposit for a down payment for an apartment with David, something I thought we both wanted. He said we would move in when we bought our own place together. I never understood why he wanted to live in separate apartments anyway. It was expensive. But now I see it was just a way to keep stringing me along. He never intended for us to live together. He just didn’t want to lose me. When he would go to business deals and work parties, I was his plus-one.
But while I was scrolling through all the happy, smiling babies, I saw my favorite Facebook pageFor the love of Old Houses.And another bottle of red told me this was it.Just do it. You only live once, get the house. Leave the shitty job where I worked with people I couldn’t stand, in a city I had no real friends in – they were all David’s.
I didn’t know why I got into finance; I hated it. But it did help me save up a nice little nest egg. I could buy a fixer-upper and not have to work for at least half a year if I was careful on how much I spent. And I was very thrifty with my money.
Two bottles of red wine, three shots of vodka, and I was looking at an old place they called a “Queen Anne,” which was in need of a paint job – the white house was grey and weathered. The kitchen was horrible. They took away the old one and replaced it with nasty cupboards and a stove that was already decades old. But it had this amazing staircase that curved so neatly, and the wood was beautiful.
That was what I was looking for.
Built in 1888, it said. So this house had good history, and I hoped good foundations. Because fuck it, Russet, Washington sounded perfect. Small town, a beautiful five-bedroom house that backed onto woodlands. It was perfect.
I was still drunk when I called the real estate agent the next morning and told him it was sold to me. He suggested I visit it, but I didn’t have the time. I needed it now. I needed to leave and start new today.
He told me he would speak to the owners and call me back. I didn’t even negotiate on the price. I wanted it. I told him I had the cash now; I was ready.
It was going to be the start of my new life.
The new me.
* * *
I clutched my thumb to my chest and sat down on the bottom stair of the staircase. The one thing that sold me on this place was this beautiful staircase. I was trying to fix it, because, well, everything needed fixing in here. It groaned under my weight. I hadn’t put on any weight since I had been here, if anything I had lost it from all the physical work. That was how bad these stairs were.
I was sore, my muscles ached from never being used before. But I was happy, even with my throbbing thumb. It was still my first week here, so I was bound to get over this honeymoon period soon, but not today. Because I am a homeowner.
I leaned back and looked around the living space. Red with gold-patterned wallpaper on one wall, wood panelling on another. There were cracks in the drywall around the window frame. I could see this room in my mind, restored back to its glory. All I needed to do was buy some furniture that would suit.
I sold off everything I had before coming here and all I had bought so far was a sofa bed, which I put in the dining room. That was where I was living for the time being. I cleaned that room enough to make it liveable. Sleeping on that thing was not comfortable at all, but I didn’t want to waste any money if I didn’t have to. So it would make do until I was ready.
I glanced down to my iPhone. It was getting late; it was almost nine in the evening. How did the day run away from me so fast? I looked around the room feeling like I had done nothing in here, but I hadn’t stopped all day. I peeled myself off the stair and made my way into the kitchen. I ran my thumb under the cold water, hoping that it would slow the bruising down. I think the nail will keep. I have learned my lesson not to use the hammer while tired.
Outside it was dark. I had neighbors across the street from me – they were an elderly couple – and all their lights were off. They go to bed early every night and weren’t the most talkative people, but they were nice.
There were no streetlights out here, something I was still getting used to. It made the dark street even more eerie without some type of light. But the stars, I could see them every night and it was amazing that most of my life I lived in cities and could never see them. They were beautiful.
There was a banging and groaning sound from inside the walls. I had come to learn on my first day that it was the pipes in the house, but it didn’t stop my heart from picking up speed every time it did it. And yes, on the first day I may have thought the house had ghosts, but wasn’t that a possibility? When you bought a house that was over a hundred years old.
I took a deep breath to slow my racing heart. I needed a drink and to get away from this place for a while. There was a bar on the main street of town, it was next to the grocery store I had been getting food from. The older lady who owned it was very friendly and full of town gossip. Her name was Maeve and she’d told me there weren’t too many single men in town worth chasing after and that most of them went to the bar there, in hopes their dream woman might walk through the door.
Maybe I might find the man of my dreams tonight, or maybe I was in for a huge letdown.
I was going to prepare for the latter.
