The Renovator

"You're right, Sweetheart, those would be ideal accessories to the dress. And, so alluring, too," Bryce said as she embraced his choices.

All this time, Zane had maintained a quiet, composed visage. Inside, however, his gut was twisting into knots and burning with anger, bordering on rage.

By now, Bryce had slipped into her cocktail dress and was smoothing the lines around her wasp waist and hips. She approached Zane, turned her back to him and asked him to zip up her dress which he did. She stepped forward to expose her leg up to the top of the hoes and admired herself. Next, she picked up her clutch purse and gathered up the felt bag with her dancing shoes. She was essentially ready to leave but she hesitated for a moment and turned to Zane.

"While I'm getting my coat, would you mind bringing me a half a shot of your spiced rum. I feel a little anxious and I could use it to settle my nerves."

This request was out of character for the manner in which things were proceeding. It would have been more natural for her to come down stairs and have a parting drink with her husband. The always-intuitive Zane felt as though she wanted him out of the room for a few minutes.

He said, "Of course you're nervous. This is going to be an eventful evening for you. I hope you intend to take advantage of the night's possibilities."

With that said, Zane stepped out of the bedroom, leaving the door half open. He stopped before proceeding done the stairs and looked back into the bedroom between the wall and the hinged side of the door. He saw his wife move quickly to his side of the bed and take something out of the nightstand drawer and put it in her purse. He didn't see what it was but he knew what it was. He then descended the stairs, approached the bar and poured Bryce a shot of spiced rum and a third double-shot for himself.

When he returned to the bedroom, Bryce was sitting on her make-up table stool. "Thank you, Sweetheart," she said. "This is just what I needed."

"I've never seen you looking so beautiful and sexy," Zane commented.

"Thank you, Sweetheart," Bryce replied. I'm so happy that you understand what this means to me. You're being so tolerant with me and I promise to make this up to you. Maybe I can dress like this again soon and you could dress up in your tux and we could do dinner and the theater, and then we could come home and you could make mad, passionate love to me."

"We'll see how things go," Zane answered flatly.

Bryce stood up and announced, "I should be going now. I don't want to be late."

Zane accompanied her down the stairs to the foyer by the front door.

"Before you go, Babe, I want to take some pictures of you."

"Oh, I'd like that. After all, I don't get dressed up like this very often."

Zane had Bryce stand by the potted plants near the glass-paneled front door which made an appropriate background for pictures. Zane said, "Turn sideways to me and then rotate your upper body toward the camera like models do."

Bryce complied as Zane took several pictures of his luscious wife.

"Now, "he said, "face me, lean forward being careful not to fall out of your dress and lift your hem up so I can easily see lots of leg and the top of your stocking."

Almost giddy with self-satisfaction, Bryce complied again and Zane took half-a-dozen more pictures.

Bryce looked at her watch and said, "I really should be going." She added, "I don't know what time I'll be home so please don't wait up for me."

Zane responded prophetically, "Don't worry, I won't be waiting for you."

Finally, Bryce said, "Give me a kiss and wish me an enjoyable night." Bryce leaned forward and added, "Kiss me on the cheek so you don't smear my lipstick." She turned her face slightly to the left and closed her eyes.

WHACK! Zane slapped his wife almost as hard as he could across her right cheek. He knew it hurt her because his hand was stinging from the blow.

Bryce fell back against the front door, completely shocked at the attack. Her expression of one of great surprise and disbelief. She was holding her hand over her stringing cheek. The pain was considerable.

"Zane... What... I don't understand... Why...?

Zane leaned into his wife and said, "On what planet did you ever believe I would approve of my wife stepping out on me with another man dressed like a trollop?"

Bryce tried to answer, "But I thought you were good with it. You didn't seem to mind. You even helped me...

WHACK! Zane slapped her left cheek just as hard as he had slapped her right. Bryce was now frightened. Her expression showed it. She didn't know how much more she was going to get hit.

He leaned even closer to her face. "In what alternate dimension did you assume that I would put up with this level of disrespect, arrogance and contempt from a wayward wife? Did you actually believe that I would allow myself to be turned into a cuckold by a wife that dressed like she was ready to get fucked all night by her boyfriend?"

Bryce had tears in her eyes by this time. "But it was only going to be dinner," she cried.

"That's a load of crap," Zane snarled.

He grabbed her purse and was about to open it when Bryce wailed, "Don't, please don't!"

Zane opened the purse and pulled out a chain of gold-wrapped Trojan condoms, and held them up to her face.

"You removed these out of my nightstand when you sent me downstairs for your rum, didn't you?"

Bryce tried to make an excuse. "They were only just in case... I didn't intend to use them."

"Like hell you didn't," Zane responded angrily.

Bryce was beginning to see how badly she had misjudged her husband. She could see that he was suppressing tears that formed in his eyes because of the pain he was feeling.

"Please, Zane...," she pleaded, "It was all a big mistake. I didn't mean to hurt you. I really thought... I don't know what I thought. I have been so infatuated with this man. He has shown me so much attention... I should never have let myself get involved...

"I'll cancel the date... we'll stay home together. We can snuggle in front of the fireplace... just you and me."

"Not likely," Zane stated. "If you stay around here, I'm going to slap you black and blue until I'm too tired to raise my hand."

Zane picked up his wife's coat and purse, and shoved them into her hands. "I want you out of here now. Don't even think of coming back until tomorrow afternoon because I won't let you in."

With that, Zane opened the front door and grabbed his wife by her upper arm and led her forcefully down the porch steps toward her car. He opened her car door and pushed her inside.

"You won't be needing these," he said as he grabbed her purse and found her keys. He took the key to the house off of the keyring. He also removed the automatic garage door opener from her sun visor.

"But where will I go?" Bryce cried.

"I don't care," Zane replied. "Go stay with Andrea for a few days."

"That's over a two-hour drive," Bryce complained.

"Then find a Hampton Inn or a Holiday Express and stay there. I don't give a shit! Just get out of my sight!"

Bryce could see that her husband was dead serious as well as being angry to the point of hurting her some more. She started her car, backed into the street and sped away.

Zane watched her go until she was out of sight. He returned to the house. As he entered, he saw Bryce's dancing shoes bag on the floor. He thought to himself, "I guess she won't need these tonight."

Zane was weary all of a sudden. He went to his bar and pored himself another, his fourth, double shot of spiced rum and slumped down in his leather easy chair. He suddenly felt great loss and he wept. He felt other things, too: Anger, humiliation and pain.

As things became more orderly in his mind, he realized he had to do something. He had to show his extreme displeasure with his wife's actions that was so unequivocal that it would not be misunderstood. He needed something to show that he was not about to forgive an indiscretion of such magnitude.

His first thought was to throw her out of the house. He thought he would gather all of her things and put them into large, black trash bags, and leave them outside for her to pick up when she returned. He went upstairs to look around. His wife had an immense wardrobe in her closet and dozens of shoes. She also had clothes in most of the other closets in the house. She had twelve dresser drawers full of blouses, sweaters, undergarments, etc.

Zane realized that it would take him a week to get all of her things moved out of the house.

He returned to the solace of his easy chair and rocked back and forth while trying to think of some way to extricate himself from all of his unhappiness.

In the middle of a taste of his rum, it came to him. The solution was so easy. He smiled to himself.

Zane remembered that less than five hours earlier, he had bought a completely furnished house. It still had the utilities; gas, water and electricity, hooked up. And, the Wi-Fi was still active. It was ready to move into—and he had the keys in his briefcase.

He would need only a minimum amount of clothing and accessories to take with him: A few suits and sport coats, trousers, dress and casual shirts... It would all fit into two big suitcases. He could pack his laptop, printer/scanner/fax and other computer equipment in the back seat.

By 11PM, Zane was ready to travel. He left the house unlocked with the house key sitting on the kitchen table along with the garage door opener. His new home was only about a forty-five-minute drive from his present home. He drove in silence, not even the radio was on. He still couldn't believe that his two-decade marriage was so damaged—maybe irreparably—and damaged by the one person he loved and trusted the most. He fought back tears occasionally during his drive.

When he pulled into the cul-de-sac in which his new home was located, it was very dark. There were no streetlights. He slowly drove up to his new place and into the driveway. He parked in the carport that was next to the side entrance to the house. The two-car, detached garage was another fifty feet up the driveway. The porch light was on. He left it on when he finished his final inspection earlier in the day. Zane used his keys to let himself into the back porch through the side door and started turning on lights.

Although the house was picked up, it was still in a state of disrepair. He moved from the back porch to the kitchen. The house did not have a formal dining room. Instead, it had a very large breakfast nook that doubled as a dining area with a five-foot diameter wooden table in the center and six matching chairs. Zane proceeded into the family room, living room and, finally, into the bedrooms. As he progressed through the house, his mind identified those things that had to be upgraded and modified to make the house saleable, even though he was not planning to resell this house for a while. Normally, he would gut a house in this shape. Everything would go: Cabinets, flooring, appliances, bathroom tubs and toilets, light fixtures... everything. However, since he was going to make this house his home for the foreseeable future, he would have to do the renovations one at a time in order to have a place in which to live.

Zane began unpacking his car. Although there was a moderate amount of closet space, half of it was filled with the late husband's clothes. The couple, acting for their mother, had taken only what was valuable to her: Clothes, pictures and family albums, a set of wedding China, some artwork, etc. They even left an outdated, tower-type computer system in a bedroom they used as an office and sewing room. Zane moved his computer and peripherals into the same space.

Zane was tired. It was getting late and his four, double, spiced rums were catching up to him. The queen-sized bed was unmade but there were sheets and blankets in the linen closet. As soon as he finished making the bed, Zane striped down to his shorts and went to sleep.

He was up early the next morning as sunlight flooded the bedroom. He hadn't closed the drapes before he went to sleep. He had a slight hangover. He took a quick shower, dressed casually and then went into the kitchen to make coffee. The old couple had an old-fashioned drip coffee maker and, fortunately, he found a can of coffee in the pantry. Zane approved of the gas stove even though it was very old.

As he drank his coffee, he looked into all the cupboards and drawers in the kitchen. They were crammed with all sorts of pots and pans, cooking utensils, glassware, dry and canned food, serving dishes and cook books. Zane noted that there were two complete sets of China that had not been taken. He learned later that the mother had inherited her mother's China as well as that of her mother-in-law.

Zane made himself an oatmeal breakfast, washed his dishes, put them in the dishwasher and wandered out to the garage. He had seen it before and knew that it was so packed with boxes and crates that not even one car would fit into the two-car garage. He opened some of the boxes to find a great deal of equipment used by caters to provide meals for clients. Apparently, that was the vocation of both the previous owners and they just packed their stuff away when they retired and forgot about it. They kept their only car in the carport.

There was actually a very nice, partially-covered patio directly outside of the sliding glass doors of both the family room and the master bedroom. A number of plants hung in pots from the beams above. It needed to be cleaned up but it was more than useable as it was. There was an old, rusted barbeque in the corner of the patio that Zane intended to junk and replace with a small gas one. Hanging from the beams above were three overhead lamps covered with translucent mosaics tiles.

Zane pictured the old couple using their patio often for coffee in the morning and wine in the evening.

After his reconnaissance of the house, garage and yard, Zane formed a plan for getting the place renovated. First, he would have a yard sale of everything worthwhile to give away. What didn't sell, he would take to the thrift store. Anything that wasn't suitable of the thrift store, he would take to the junk yard. Then, he would start on restoring the house and grounds.

Upon inspecting the yard, Zane found it full of weeds. There was no grass to speak of. The brick planters were cracked and missing bricks. The asphalt driveway needed to be re-accomplished. He noted that the three-foot, cement block walls separating the house on either side of him were damaged. Somebody had run into it with a car at some time in the past.

Zane called his contractor, Caesar Quintero, who had his team of artisans working on a townhouse and a detached home that Zane owned. He asked Caesar to come over to his new place so they could talk about an order of battle for renovating the house.

While Zane was waiting in his front yard for Caesar, he met the first of his new neighbors: A fiftyish Vietnamese widow, who lived in the house to his left as you look from the street, and her aging mother. The widow's name was Leigh which was an English form of her name in Vietnamese. Her mother was Gina which was also a form of her Vietnamese name. Leigh spoke English with a heavy accent. Her mother spoke almost no English. Leigh was on her way to work but said she would be my guide around the neighborhood and introduce me to the others in the cul-de-sac. Zane told her that he would appreciate such a courtesy.

At that time, Caesar showed up in his pickup. Zane and Caesar greeted each other like the friends we had become. And then Caesar looked at the front of the house.

"Yes," he said, "this is easily the worst-looking house on the block. I don't know what else there is to be done here but we definitely need to give this place a little curb appeal."

Zane and Caesar looked through the house and Caesar saw the same things that needed to be done that Zane had seen. Then, they walked the perimeter of the cul-de-sac. Caesar noted that there were repairs needed at many of the homes: Pitted driveways, broken planters, cracked walls, rickety picket fences, missing shutters, uncut lawns full of weeds and so on.

Once they decided on the renovation priorities, Caesar left and Zane was on his own again. He had turned off his cell phone but now he turned it back on and noted the calls. All except one were from his wife starting at about 2PM... probably about the time she returned home from her night away from the house. He listened to them on Voicemail.

"Zane," she pleaded, "I just arrived home to find you had moved out. Please, please talk to me. I'm so sorry that I disappointed you so badly... yada, yada, yada."

The rest of the messages were similar. "Please, Zane," she begged. "Things went so badly for me yesterday... I just have to explain... Don't leave me this way... yada, yada, yada."

Zane skipped to the last message. It was from his daughter, Andrea. "Daddy, what have you done to Mom? She called me this afternoon and was crying when she told me you had moved out of the house and she didn't know where you were. She even said you hit her. How could you do this?"

Zane called his daughter. She answered immediately and started right in on him. "Daddy, I don't know what is going on between you and Mom but you have to go home and make it right."

He answered her. "Did your mom explain why I left the house, why I left her?

"Whatever it is, Dad, it couldn't be that bad.

"Actually, Andrea, it is. In reality, she left me first. Before you call me again, sit down with your mom and demand that she tells you the absolute truth as to why I left her. Then, I will talk to you again."

"Okay, Dad," Andrea acquiesced. "Mom is coming over to stay with us for a few days. She didn't want to be in your big house all by herself."

Zane didn't hear from Andrea for three days. During that time, Caesar had started work to clean up Zane's yard. The first this he did was repair the walls on each side of the house. In addition to the cinderblock, he added a red cap block to make it look much more decorative and less austere. Without asking his neighbors, Zane had Caesar make similar repairs to all the cinderblock walls in the neighborhood.

Word quickly spread and his neighbors went out of their way to visit the new man on the block and thank him for his work. To Zane, it was only an incremental cost to do all the repairs. He justified it by thinking that by improving all the homes he was raising the value of his own property.

As it happened, when Caesar was installing a new asphalt drive way in Zane's detached home, he purposely ordered more asphalt than necessary to completely replaced Zane's driveway. Zane had Caesar's workmen inspect the driveways of each of the other homes in the cul-de-sac, fill in the potholes and cracks, and put sealer on each driveway. The incremental cost to Zane was not negligible but it was worth it.

Meanwhile Zane organized and advertised his yard sale. All of his neighbors on the cul-de-sac attended the sale was well as many people in the adjoining neighborhoods. It was a success and Zane disposed of most of the items that were cluttering up his house and garage. He was cleaning up the unsold items and putting them in Caesar's pick-up for transfer to the thrift store, when he received a call from his daughter.

"Daddy, we have to meet. I have to show you and tell you things that you don't know."

"I know what I know. I know what I saw," Zane answered. "Did your mom tell you how she treated me? Did she tell you everything?"

"Mom told me everything... everything," Andrea answered, "and a lot that you don't know."

Zane responded, "If this is your mom's attempt to talk with me or to get back together, forget it. She has already shown me how little regard he has for me."