The House Pt. 01

A couple of notes.

This story takes place over approximately six months. The short timeline is important to the story. It might not align with the timeline for a divorce in the real world. (sorry).

A part of this story involves a state's mythical lottery. The lottery is complex, in order to confound the character - it is not important to the reader to understand the lottery to appreciate this story. I am sure there is no lottery as I describe it. I am by no means a statistician, but I offer the odds of winning - if you are a statistician and know me to be wrong (sorry).

The story is in two parts. This part is from the point of view of Don Wilson. Part 2 is completed and will be submitted a day after part 1.

The cause of the events in the story is ambiguous. Does this house have some special property, or overseer? You decide. (not sorry)

April 19

Sally opened the door and let us in. I had not been in the house in years. I own a residential real estate company. As part of that, I buy the occasional home to generate rental income. I do the business side of the rentals and I have a staging company who does the clean-up and maintenance. After the purchase, I rarely, if ever, see my properties.

The house had a nice feel. A small foyer led to a great room straight ahead. To the right, an office area, behind that, is the kitchen and dining room. To the left is a hallway, presumably to bedrooms.

The previous tenant, Walter Bicknell, is one who defies description. He is as weird a man as I ever met. Whenever I talked to him, he was only half-present, always looking off into space - maybe literally. Maybe you'd've believed him, I never did.

Walt called me out of the blue. This house was for rent, and I was asking a bit more than "the book" suggested. I had prospective renters but didn't like them - sketchy credit rating. Walt wanted to rent this house, no other, and offered to pay $200 more than my proposed, already-too-high-rent. The offer intrigued me. I asked why.

I wished I hadn't.

He told me the previous tenant had won some lottery prize of about $500,000. Then, Walt said an alien told him he too would hit the lottery, (quoting the alien) "not through his sagacity but his transmogrification would come as an antecedent from his residing in this property".

I don't believe in aliens. If there were aliens, they would not use words like sagacity, transmogrification, and antecedent. I carefully ran through all my experiences, trying to form an intelligent response. Finding none, "Were anal probes involved?"

"I don't talk about that. Will you accept my offer? I need to be in the house as soon as possible."

Being honest, I had no idea what he (or his alien) was talking about. I told Walt I had to talk to the other prospect first. I hung up and looked up: sagacity - discerning wisdom; transmogrify - transform in a surprising or magical manner; and antecedent - preceding event, or cause. In other words, the move to the house, rather than his talent, would magically transform him through winning the lottery.

I found that notion totally preposterous. The guy is hearing voices, is it even ethical to take his money?

Being practical, I decided ethics had nothing to do with it, I am not his doctor. I am a prospective landlord. As such, it doesn't matter if Puff the Magic Dragon is whispering in his ear - if he pays his rent, well his voluntarily higher rent, on time.

I decided to keep his information to myself. It was not in my interest to let people know I was taking extra money from a guy who spoke to ET. Getting the neighborhood focused on some house with magical properties might turn on me, as well. Besides I only had evidence of a sesquipedalian, not an actual alien.

Continuing my look at the house I was saddened; it was supposed to be making extra income for the wife and me. Worse yet, the phrase "wife and me" no longer applied. But I am getting ahead of myself.

I need to back up two weeks.

April 5

My name is Don Wilson, I am 38 years old. I found out my wife, of 14 years, is running around on me.

A neighbor gave me a heads up. I confronted her, and she basically gave me the slut-wife-handbook answer - so what, it's just sex, if you do anything I'll get the house, the kids, maintenance, child support... (she added a non-standard clause) and I will need to look for one more partner - since presumably, I'll lose you.

I didn't respond. Hit, well blindsided, really, with indifference like that - what do you say? My wife, around whom I had built my life, told me she was going to do what she wanted and presumably, she'd lose me. Pre-fucking-sumably!?! Having nothing to say, I turned, packed my travel suitcase for two days, and left. Confirming her feelings for me, she said nothing, either.

I was overwhelmed. Fourteen years, two children, big plans, no apparent problems and "presumably she'd lose me". I drove, following rather than directing my car. A motel appeared and I turned in. It was not much but had an attached restaurant. There was a strip mall with a liquor store next door. I was set. I wasn't hungry, so I passed on dinner and chose the liquor store. I looked at scotch and decided on a half pint - which would get me drunk enough to sleep and not too drunk to be worth a shit in the morning.

A heartless whore for a wife, no dinner, and scotch make for a poor evening. Not even a phone call. I'm a successful guy, in shape, making good bank and "presumably". I've not spent much time in my life unhappy, let alone depressed - I don't recommend it.

Two drinks later (full disclosure each drink was half of my bottle) and I was out. I slept poorly.

The next day, while "presumably" was at work and my sons at school, I returned to my ex-home and packed up most of my clothes. I called work and told them I was taking today and Friday off. I was back at my motel, for a late breakfast. A trip to the strip mall got me today's half pint. I decided the scotch would be for a pre and post dinner drink.

Where did I fail? I tried to think through our lives, but I could not hold a thought in my head. Instead, my mind seemed to wander to - do I start drinking early? If I do there will be plenty of time to buy another half pint. How did all we had been come down to "presumably"? I wallowed in self-pity, the day passed, and it was time to go to dinner - after my first drink; I did remember that. I couldn't tell you what I ate before I went back to the room for my second drink and a check of my phone.

I was keeping my phone, my lifeline to the world, off. There were no calls from work - that was good. There was nothing at all, which made me more depressed. I turned it back off and went to bed.

Friday, Saturday, and Sunday were like Groundhog Day, a repeat of despair, fighting the urge to bury it in drink, inability to think (let alone think usefully), eat, buy my half pint, drink, eat, drink, and sleep.

Monday came and I moved my first meal earlier, went to work and stared at my computer. Quitting time came, I went back to the motel, bought my half pint, etc.

It was Wednesday, I was celebrating my sixth Groundhog Day when Walter Bicknell reappeared in my life. He came into the office and told me he would be vacating my rental property - more disappointment. Walt had been a great tenant. No noise and no complaints - from him or about him, and he always paid his "too-high" rent on time. He was smiling, gleeful, and asking me, didn't I want to know why?

The why was the most bizarre, impactful, and confusing moment of my life. It seems Walt won the big lottery drawing Saturday night - a little over $26,000,000. He handed me a check for 6 months' rent, told me he would be out by the twenty-first, a week from Friday, and would let me know when he left.

Maybe the house did have some benevolent alien watching over the people who lived there. I remembered that odd conversation and the nearly enigmatic way Walt was informed of his pending win. I still didn't believe it - but now, how could I disbelieve it? I could never think of intelligent conversation with Walt, "So, Walt, is an alien watching over you, or is it over the house?"

He looked at me as though I were an alien. "What an odd thing to say. I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You offered to pay me more rent because an alien was going to assure a lottery win for you if you resided in my house."

"Most ridiculous thing I ever heard. I said no such thing. I will call when I vacate, good day!"

"Curiouser and curiouser" (Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland) came to mind. An alien spoke to him, he must rent my house, he pays more, wins, and now he claims to know nothing. Maybe he fears public scorn if he won with the help of extraterrestrials. Worse yet, he might fear an outcry of alien interference would nullify his win.

Equally curious was the timing . I am in a shit-hole motel and need a place to live, he shows up, pays me advance rent, and is moving out of my house.

Walt's visit was like an alarm clock. I was not living I was - just waiting. Waiting for fucking what? It was a week since I threw some things together and left and I'd done nothing. Well, nothing is putting it kindly. I was endlessly reexamining the life of a failure (myself), ignoring my sons, and having my daily scotch infusion.

The next day, I went to my former home and sat with my boys, John, 12 and Tim, 10. I explained to them that I would not be living with them for a while. John wanted to know why; Tim just cried. I told them it happens, and we all would need to learn to deal with it. I got them settled and left.

I returned to my ex-home on Friday and decided I should no longer let myself in. I rang the bell. The wife answered, "Oh, it's going to be like this?"

"I want to see my boys and pack the rest of my belongings."

"Without ever talking to me? You have no more feelings for me than that?"

"Elaine, you told me you were going to fuck around and that presumably you'd lose me. I can confirm you lost me. My feelings were neither sought nor involved."

She winced, "Okay, I'll admit my words weren't the best..."

"With that, dear Elaine, I disagree. You framed the issue; your words reflected your feelings. When I heard the words, I discovered your feelings and moved out."

My comment stopped her. I could see her gathering herself, but whatever went through her mind did not stop there. She walked away channeling Scarlett O'Hara - "I'll think about that tomorrow. Tomorrow's another day". The words divorce process elicited no response - I wondered if the divorce petition would.

The weekend was different than Groundhog Day, but not much. I knew I was moving from the hotel, so, I purchased a fifth of good scotch. I thought a blue label and a plan would chase depression - it didn't. Of course, I had no plan - scotch, depression, and a lack of good sleep were in the way of that.

People change. The changes are sometimes slow and add up over time. But change does not happen like this. There had to be something fundamentally wrong with me. Those thoughts kept pounding away at me. Logic tries to overcome. Logic dictates nothing is wrong with me, there is something wrong with her. But the emotional argument always overcame the logic (anyone who thinks logic can overcome emotion has never been married).

Depression is a terrible thing. I was in a dark place. I questioned everything. Something was wrong with me and since I had no idea what it was - I suspected everything. I did not want to approach customers; I did not want to help my staff. I was miserable and wanted to wallow in that misery. If anything, this was worse than Groundhog Day, where I was basically numb and unaware. Now I hurt and was overwhelmed by the hurt.

Wednesday was surprising. I got a call on my cell, before leaving for work, Walt was vacating by Noon.

I called the staging company and spoke to Sally Wilson; she would meet me at the house at 1:00 pm and let me in.

<<<<>>>>

April 19

So, here I am touring my rental property turned new residence.

"Isn't this just charming?" Sally said, starting into her rental agent mode.

"Sally, excuse me, this is rude. I am here because I am divorcing my wife, charm has nothing to do with it."

"Sorry, do you want my help?"

"I will, let me look around first, sorry to be an ass."

"I knew there were good reasons to be single." She said with a smile. I smiled back, no harm, no foul.

The family room had a leather (well leather-like) sofa, chair, and recliner, a 60-inch flat screen on a stand, a couple of tables and lamps. It looked like Walt subscribed to Nerdy Man-Cave, the primitive edition, not the deluxe upgrade where actual leather, etc. was used. For my purposes, not bad.

The dining room was functional, not much else you could say about it. The kitchen had been upgraded before Walt moved in, it looked good. The master bedroom had been cleared; the other two bedrooms were awful.

I had two of the three basics: a flat-screen, and a microwave, I needed a bed. Sally was shaking her head. "Don, most of this stuff is pretty basic."

"It is okay for right now. What I need is a new bedroom set for me and the two smaller bedrooms cleared. How long will that take?"

"Late tomorrow afternoon. You want a nice bedroom?"

"Sure, typical, like we'd use when we are showing a nice home. Modern, I don't want anything fancy."

She paused to think, then said, "In by Friday."

Thinking about my conversation with Sally, "because I am divorcing my wife". To divorce her, I had to see a lawyer and do whatever it is one does. I could do that when I left the house. I had a law firm I used for most of our home sales. They must have a personal attorney on staff or know who to recommend.

I called the law office once I was back in my car. They had an attorney who did divorces. I booked an appointment for Friday morning.

I went back to the hotel and told them I was checking out Friday morning. My new life was going to require money. I went to bed early and hoped for a good day tomorrow.

<<<<>>>>

I arrived early. I took three calls which all became listings for the company. Normally, I let these calls be handled by the salespeople, but all of them were out this morning. No money today, but when these homes sold, the lister's commission would go to me - things were starting well.

I had a showing in the afternoon (I had planned on handing it off, fortunately, I had not). Every so often you get a break with clients. Too often people looking for a home don't know what they want and can't afford what they find. The process is slow and leads to many dead ends.

My afternoon client turned out to be just the opposite. She was about 50, her husband was an executive with a big manufacturing firm with offices in a dozen or so cities. He had just transferred here and did not have time to look. He asked her to try to stay under a million-five.

The first house I showed her was one I, personally, had listed for $1,750,000. She loved it, said it was perfect for them, and said offer a million-five. The $1,700,000 counteroffer came back ten minutes later. She called hubby and he said tell them $1,650,000 or no deal. Tell them we will pay cash. The deal was done.

My listing, my sale, seven percent - $115,500 in my pocket. Not bad for about four hours' work. I may have had better days in my life of real estate sales, but I don't recall one.

I texted Elaine, "How about I take the boys this weekend. I'll pick them up at school and drop them off about 6:00 pm on Sunday." Not five minutes later, I got a text, "Sure, I'll pack a suitcase for them, pick it up here any time Friday."

That was a surprise. No bargaining, no "we need to talk". She didn't even know I now had a house. What happened to her - where is her head at?"

I knew at the house, the cupboards were bare, so after work I went to the store and got provisions - women go grocery shopping, guys get provisions - frozen breakfasts, frozen dinners, hot dogs, buns, white bread, peanut butter, grape jelly, popcorn, lemonade, potato chips, mixed nuts, scotch, and beer (don't look at me like that, I didn't invite you to dinner.)

I was ready for Friday.

<<<<>>>>

While I was at work, self-doubt started eating at me. I tried to keep busy so the doubt could not get hold of me, but it was a losing battle. What could be wrong with me which caused her so casually to cast me aside? When I got back to the house my thoughts changed. There was no though of loss; only what needed to be done, next - building a relationship with my boys and learning how to pick the winning lottery number.

The two bedrooms would be cleared and ready. The three of us would "camp out" in my bedroom. I would offer them a choice of separate bedrooms or one combined bedroom and a deluxe playroom. My new home was much less than their home with their mother - I wanted to do everything I could to make it as special as I could for them.

The lottery was a different story. In fact, there were three lotteries. The blue lottery, the gold lottery, and the combined lottery. The big payout was the combined.

People could buy a blue lottery ticket. The ticket had numbers from 1 to 30. Six numbers were drawn on Friday evening. The gold lottery was the same, the drawing for that was on Saturday. The combined lottery drawing followed immediately. It was unique.

The combined lottery ticket had two sets of 1-30 numbers, one gold, the other blue. The drawing was from the winning twelve numbers from Friday and Saturday. Twelve numbers, six blue and six gold were the pool from which six numbers were drawn. Who would think of such a bizarre system?

<<<<>>>>

Friday came. I stopped by "presumably's" house and found the boys' suitcase. I met my divorce attorney, liked her. She would have papers ready next week. I waited outside the boys' school with about a hundred other cars. They came out together and as if they had a homing beacon in my car, they made their way through the maze of cars to me in no time at all.

"Hi Dad! The coolest thing happened today, in..." Simultaneously, from number-two son, "Dad, guess what? Betty took my..."

"Whoa, there. One at a time. I have a surprise for you two, too." Saying surprise to preteens is like throwing a spotlight on stage. Suddenly, we went from three talkers to one. "We are having a camp-out, in my bedroom tonight. We are going to make plans and decide how to divide two rooms in my new house. You can have one each, or you both can share two rooms."

John, the older one, immediately wanted his own room. Tim, the younger, is clever, for his age. Typically, he wanted whatever it was his brother didn't and he was developing methods to get his way, since force wasn't a legitimate option. "That sounds good, why would you think we want to share two rooms, Dad?"

"We could set up one for sleeping and maybe homework. The other one could be for gaming and fun things."

"Could we have our own flat screen?" John asked, warming to this new thought.

"Sure, we'd need some sharing arrangements, or maybe we could get two smaller ones." I didn't need to be smart to see where this was going.