Page 18 of Jeremy
Imay not be a master craftsman like Tucker, but I can build some damn steps. Atrip to the hardware store is a necessity though, since I don’t think there’s atool anywhere in my house. I’m glad I at least have a tape measure so I can seewhat size boards I need. I have no intention of knocking on her door again, soI just grab the tape measure and quickly jot down the numbers before the yappymutt gives me away.
It'snice to have a project to work on that isn’t driven by hate and retribution.Since Justus and Tucker came and pulled me back into the world, that has beenmy singular focus, but I can feel how much I need another outlet. I also needto be busy and keep myself from thinking about the horrible mistake I’ve made.Melissa needs help, and I need a distraction. It’s perfect.
Mycredit card gets a workout for the first time since I moved here as I shop fortools and general hardware supplies. I end up finding a pre-cut kit for outdoorstairs that looks easy enough to build, so at least I don’t have to Google howto go about it.
Bythe time I get all the supplies and make it back home, it’s dark out. A faintlight shines from Melissa’s front window, and I can hear music playing inside.For the first time, I wonder about her. Who she really is and how she ended uphere all alone. I suppose tonight is as good a time as any to find out.
Therest of my night is spent on the computer, spying on my neighbor.
#
I’mup early for a change and when I peek outside, Melissa’s car is gone. Thiswoman just becomes a bigger mystery the more I research her. She’s beencompletely off the grid for years, and that’s no easy feat to manage. When Ihacked into her financials, I thought maybe I had the wrong person, but, no,it’s her.
Beforeher disappearing act, she was a successful artist, known to everyone as Melly.A child prodigy who had paintings hanging in galleries across the country byage twelve. There was public speculation about her when she stopped working orbeing seen in public, but nothing was considered suspicious.
Shetold her friends and associates that she was moving out of the country with hersister. Since they had just lost their father—their only parent—to a heartattack, and had no other family, it made sense. But there’s no record of eitherof them until a few months ago, and the sister is still in the wind.
Imay look into her whereabouts a bit more later, but for now, I know what I needto know. Even without my money, my child won’t do without anything. Thatdoesn’t mean I won’t contribute, but it’s a relief all the same. Consideringthe way I’ve treated her, and the fact that’s not going to change much since Idon’t want to be any more a part of this situation than I have to, it’spossible she’ll refuse any money I try to give her anyway.
I’lljust have to keep an eye on her throughout the pregnancy and make sure sheisn’t putting herself and the baby in any danger. Today, that means buildingsteps.
Igrab my phone and find some suitable music to get motivated, then back my truckup her driveway and unload the wood and supplies. She could be back at anytime, so I move my truck back to my driveway where I won’t get blocked in, thenset to work.
Herold steps may be rotting and soft, but they’re a bitch to tear out, and I’ve probablysweated off twenty pounds by the time I have them demolished. The kit makeseverything pretty simple, and by the time I hear Melissa’s car turning into thedriveway, I’m using the long timber screws to attach the framing to the house.
Idon’t get a chance to explain what I’m doing before she flies out of her car.
“Whatthe hell are you doing?”
Icalmly pick up a riser and position it before responding. “Fixing your steps.They were a death trap.”
Theelectric screwdriver whirrs too loudly for her to answer me as I attach theriser, but when I turn, her mouth is hanging open.
“Areyou drunk? This is my house! You can’t just tear up my house!”
“Ihad to tear out the old ones. They couldn’t be repaired. Had to be replaced.”The screwdriver jumps to life again as I affix the next board.
“Iknow they needed to be fixed! It was on my list! What the hell does this haveto do with you? I’m sorry if my house doesn’t live up to your spoiled, richdick expectations, but just because you’re loaded doesn’t mean you can dowhatever the fuck you want to other people’s property!”
Myknee pops as I get to my feet and face her. “What makes you think I’m rich?”Nothing about my income or family came up the night we spent together, as faras I remember anyway.
Hereyes reach for the sky, and she huffs. “Believe it or not, most people don’tjust throw fifteen hundred dollars on the ground like it’s nothing. Only aspoiled, entitled asshole behaves like that.”
Whatis she going on about? Fifteen hundred dollars? It strikes me that’s how much Ifound in my mailbox.
“Areyou the one who put the money in my mailbox?”
Shecrosses her arms and a little line appears between her eyes as she frowns. “Ofcourse I did. How many other people have you thrown money at so they’dstopthe fucking racket?” she says, using air quotes around her last words.
Theconfused expression on my face really frustrates her. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Youdon’t even remember, do you? Let me refresh your memory. I was trying to have ayard sale and you stormed over, drunk off your ass, and demanded I stop. Thenyou told me if I was so hard up for money, to take yours. You proceeded to pulla wad of cash out of your pocket and throw it at my feet.”
Shit.No, I don’t remember that.
“But,that was before you spent the night with me.”
“Yeah,”she scoffs. “Some lessons I have to learn the hard way, but I do learn them. Idon’t know what you’re doing, if you’re bored and screwing with me or what, butyou need to leave me alone.” She glances down to the half-built stairs. “Afteryou fix what you tore up.”
Shespins around and stalks to the side door. The lock clicks and she says, “No.Woody. You’re not coming out yet.” She returns to her car and starts carryingin bags. I get back to my work, but I can’t seem to stop myself from watchingher out of the corner of my eye.
