The town of Sutherland was unlike any we had lived in before. A quaint place with a historic downtown and a few thousand people, better suited for a Hallmark movie than a real place in the rural Midwest. Property values were affordable, our house even more so with the Realtor using terms like “motivated seller” and “no contingencies”. We bought it sight unseen with the help of the local Realtor and the Internet. It was recently remodeled after the previous owners abandoned it, though we never got a good answer as to why they would let such a beautiful home fall into disrepair.
Jake turned into the subdivision of ranch style homes, all the same except for different color brick and roofs. Some were tin roofed and a few were painted entirely white or gray, including ours. Jake eased the SUV against the curb of a brick house, painted gray with black shutters and a black door. An aggregate front porch jutted from the front of the house with an awning supported by black pillars. He looked at me and smiled.
“Home sweet home!”
In truth, he had been much more excited about this endeavor. I was too much of a planner, risk-averse. Jake, on the other hand, was outgoing, endearing, and spontaneous. Leaving behind our past life in such an unpredictable manner was his modus operandi, but the whole situation induced an unrelenting anxiety in me. He practically jumped from the car and was at my door before I could reach for the handle. He threw it open and offered his hand, practically dragging me from the car and halfway up the yard. We stood there together as he held me tight under his arm.
“This is just what we need. A new start. For all of us,” he said, rubbing my stomach that had grown larger in the eight weeks since he was fired. He pulled my hand toward the house, like a child excited by a wrapped gift on Christmas morning. He punched a key code into the electronic lock, prompting the door to buzz with anticipation as the deadbolt slid. He peeked into the house, then snuck in like it didn’t belong to us, probably wanting to make sure the home delivered on the first impression. He dropped my hand as we crossed the threshold, backing up into the living room with his arms spread wide as if to say “look what I did!”
“This is beautiful! Hardwood floors throughout. New paint. Open floor plan. Modern kitchen with quartz counters. Just like all those shows you watch!”
Jake should have been a salesman instead of a high school biology teacher. He lived for moments like this, where he gambled big and won bigger, where he converted the skeptics. I had been hearing this tone for months at our old house in one of the fastest growing towns, in one of the most well-funded school districts. He had gone from educator of the year to insubordinate. Complaining every day about the kids, their lack of respect. His peers refusing to take their jobs seriously, claiming most were nearly college dropouts saved by a degree in education as a last resort. And the administration. Good God, how many times I had to listen to him complain about administration, until one day he came home with his work life in a box. Something bad happened, something he called a disagreement, but I knew well enough that he either quit or was escorted from the building, as no school would ever fire a teacher mid-semester.
I cried. I questioned him. I went silent and hid in our bedroom when his sales pitches failed to alleviate my fears and frustrations. Our family was growing into something unpredictable and the thought made me second guess our decision to get pregnant, to go on an unpaid maternity leave, to stay with him. He lied to me, saying he was fired for “arguing” with the principal in the weekly staff meeting, but anyone who spends enough time in the classroom is guilty of that. He would then change the subject, assure me that it was illegal for the school district to give him a negative reference. The house stayed quiet long after until he got the call from a district in need of a teacher.
I wandered through the rooms, allowing myself to imagine furniture in the living room, new appliances in the kitchen. I ran my fingers across the quartz counters, the chill creeping up my arm. The house felt like the November outside. No heat except for what little sun made it through the front windows. I walked the hallway, entering each room, immersing myself in their potential. An office for us. A room for our baby, decorated with fantasy, castles on the walls, dragons soaring above. The master bedroom, complete with walk-in closet and en suite, was larger than our previous and already populating with a new bedroom set. The master bath was all bright tile and marble with brass fixtures, a walk-in shower that could fit six. As I looked in the mirror, I saw tired eyes from nights of restless sleep, from accommodating another person who felt more like a stranger than a partner. My blond hair had grown longer and darkened at the roots from fear of spending needed money. My face was puffy and plain, my body stretched, like the mirror belonged in a fun house and not my new master bathroom.
I began to reconcile with the fact Jake was right. He said everything would work out, that leaving was for the better. Like with most things, my pessimism got the better of me. I should have trusted him, supported him. Instead, I only saw the worst in our situation and in him. The house was beautiful, like a dream home we’d imagine if our lottery numbers hit. I did one more pass through the master bedroom. Something on the north wall caught my eye, illuminated by the large windows. The first, and hopefully only, imperfection I would find in our home. It was as though the painter missed a spot and the previous color bled through. I stood on my toes and leaned into the wall, brushing my stomach against its surface. It looked like dirt or mud, but as I licked my thumb and scrubbed, it refused to disappear. Just in this one area, a rust colored spatter marked the wall. The room grew colder, though I could feel sunlight on my back. I made a note to clean the spots once the moving van arrived with our things. As I exited, I glanced back at all the imagined furniture and decor, but only saw rust colored dots sprayed on a small section of wall.