Vignette #2: Change

There he stood, the changes in his life happened so fast, alone in the dark, in a strange place. It was beautiful, much more than he ever imagined would be his, but it was—lock, stock and staccato floors.

It was obvious that he and Clair were in the final stages of relationship when the offer came, a new job, a new place and a new life without her—or any one he had come to know. He was confused, angry, ready to chuck it all and start anew. He did.

And now he stood in his own home, something he thought he’d never have. After a full days work at a new job, paying more than he’d ever dreamed, he stood dazed, if not firm in a new city on the other side of the country far, far from the mess that had become what he once was.

His Aunt Hil had once told him that if he stayed true to his own heart that one-day every piece of the puzzle would fall into place and the finished picture would dazzle him beyond even his wildest dreams. As he stood there in the midst of it, he knew she was right.

Faster than lightning bolts and instantaneous Internet connection his life was now something he didn’t recognize. It still hadn’t settled in. It still wasn’t comfortable, but it was all his. He just knew that everything was finally, finally right. It would just take some getting used to that was all.

Like the job, the house seemed to come out of nowhere and at just the right time. The elderly woman appeared at his new office and shuffled right up to his desk, accidentally mistaking him for a realtor. Her husband had passed away and she was moving across country to live with her granddaughter. She and her husband built the house with their own hands, every corner, every crack and crevice their dream come true. Now she was alone, and she wanted it to go to the right person. She stressed that she was in no hurry; it just had to be the right person.

As he escorted her back down to the lobby, hoping they could get her to the correct place, she took an instant shine to him, regaling him with stories of her beloved Herman. They had built this dream together with love; and how leaving broke her heart, but staying hurt even more. She only hoped the right person would come along. She wanted to make sure the house would be a new start to the one destined to carry on their legacy.

As soon as the lobby desk clerk assured them she’d be taken care of, the old lady kissed him gently on the cheek and thanked him. He was so kind, and so lovely. He reminded him of her dear Herman.

He turned a little red and thanked her. He explained that he, too, had just uprooted and was starting over. He told her that he considered it an honor that one of the first people he encountered in his new life was someone with a legacy of love so great that it gave him hope for his own future. He squeezed her chubby arthritic hands and returned to his desk.

He had barely sat back down, when the woman appeared again. She had changed her mind and didn’t need a realtor after all. She handed him a set of keys and asked if he could drive her home. She had chosen him to buy the house.

He laughed kindly at first, saying no, but she was insistent. Finally the acting director of his department came over to him to see what was taking up all his time. It was obvious that the elderly woman cared for his “boss” even less than he did. To his surprise, the usually virulent shrew smiled and told him to take whatever time he needed. As they left, he turned to assure his “boss” that he’d return to his duties as quickly as he could but she had quickly skittered away.

As soon as they pulled into the driveway, he was overwhelmed. The house was beautiful. Before they even got out of the car, the old lady handed him the keys again. “Come inside, my child.” She said looking him deep in the eyes. “This is where your dreams come true.”

Within the hour a deal was made, affordable via his new job, only the paperwork needed to be drawn up and signed. Within days his “angel” was off to her new home and he had moved in that morning. Everything happened so quickly as if it all been pristinely orchestrated. He was still having trouble believing it was true.

A few suitcases, not yet unpacked and a small crate of boxes was all that looked familiar in these surroundings. She had left almost everything, insisting that it was part of the deal, exactly what she wanted. Her eyes misted over as she told him she was taking “only a few baubles, for the best memories were locked inside her heart where neither man nor time could take them away.”

It was now Friday night, his second week at work complete, the coming Monday would bring on another zap of changes. He was shocked yet enervated by how quickly he was adapting, how eager he was for control. Gone was the trepidation and hopeless discouragement of the past. Now, he had an entire weekend ahead of him to no longer be a stranger in his own life.

He had already familiarized himself with the main floor. He had roamed through in giddy awe, touching everything, moving little. He stared at the painting in the front entry by a spiral staircase leading upstairs and allowed himself to get lost in the swoosh of swirling color and splashes of sparkling gold. Like the painting, he would allow touches of himself in the house evolve. He sighed with contentment. Now it was time to explore the second floor.

The front of the house was deceiving. It looked small and quaint, like a cottage in the woods, rather than a stately home at the furthermost point of a cul-de-sac. It wasn’t even until you had climbed that spiral staircase to the second floor that the true magnificence of the house unfurled.

The staircase landing opened to a luminous master bedroom almost the entire length and width of the house. To the left was a large comfortable bathroom, and a huge walk in closet, both larger than the meager shack he had grown up in. To the right was a muted glass partition paneling off a second room, a private getaway for two complete with a wet bar, furniture and, to his surprise, an octagonal hot tub of what appeared to be handmade red oak.

There were curtains that hid the entire south wall of the bedroom and “playroom”. It wasn’t until now he found what he realized was a remote control on the nightstand by the biggest bed he’d ever seen. Half dazed and in awe, he picked up the remote and began pressing buttons.

The first button dimmed the lights. The second operated an overhead fan and third, the third ended up taking his breath away. His knees gave way and he sank to the bed as the third little touch of a button seem to make the draperies disappear unveiling a south wall made entirely of glass. It was if the room and the bed he was now half lying on for support seemed to be free floating in the night sky.

He could see the tops of the trees and shrubs to the east and west of his backyard In front of him he could barely see the top of an old wall of stones dividing his property across from him. The railings of the balcony beyond the glass wall added to the illusion of being about to just step right out into the heavens.

He eased back on the bed propping himself up on his elbows and stared out. As he shifted his body he heard an electronic click and was wafted over by tendrils of fresh air. His weight had touched another button of the remote and the wall turned into glass panels that opened, beckoning him outside. He stood and walked through.

The balcony he now stood on spanned almost the entire back of the house. To his left was another staircase, leading to the deck below. Leaning now on the railings, perfectly matching the red oak hot tub, he could see the small pool below, its still blue waters reflecting the night sky as if it were just another layer of stars and moonlight. He gazed into the water, and reflected upon his past.

How Clair would have loved the pool, but hated everything else. She would have insisted on redecorating everything, removing all its personality until it resembled one of the perfectly lifeless layouts in those cosmopolitan home magazines she so adored. Oh, she would have allowed him to make love to her in the pool and the hot tub, and gloried in the posh neighborhood, but as soon as she got bored the whining preceding the fighting would have begun.

A soft breeze ran across his chest and fingered his hair. He felt warm and comfortable knowing that this time none of that would happen—the good or the bad. He had broken the cycle and was, at last, in control.

His eyes slowly glided across the backyard. That must be the old gate Mrs. Elysian talked about meaning to have torn down. It stood rotting and alone in the middle of the stone wall, the only mar in the perfection of the landscape. She was right; a little work to the yard and the place would be perfect for him. Yes, he would get up tomorrow and see what needed to be done to rid himself of that eyesore, maybe even the whole wall.

He reached in his robe pocket for the remote, turning the lights off entirely as he retreated back inside. He opted to leave the glass wall open and just crawl into bed. It wasn’t long before he drifted off. Worn out by the new job, but relaxed in his new surroundings that were without a doubt truly his.

And he had no dreams, just peace for those few hours. The house was silent. All that could be heard was that of nature playing quietly in the backyard through the open glass. Occasionally, the air would bounce off the moonlit water of the pool, dance for a time with the leaves of the tall tress and then caress his bare chest and he lay sleeping.

All seemed to protect and love him, as he slipped into its arms and rested for the first time in years. A rotting gate at the center, the only imperfection to his new life, would be taken down tomorrow. He was at last finally and totally in control.