House questions
“Have you bought your house yet?” Boomed a voice so loud it nearly shattered the glass tabletop I was sitting at.
I slowly looked up to a fat, ugly, sweaty figure that had just finished a game. It was Paul, who by sure twist of fate had spent years in the insurance business, sold everything, and retired early in the Florida sunshine from New Jersey.
His most glamorous possession was a convertible black Mercedes sport, which was a gorgeous new car, and showed a degree of taste for a man who had none.
I think he loved it more than his wife, as I recalled that she had never been seen sitting in it.
He had asked the multimillion-dollar question, and I felt ten pairs of eyes leave their bagels and cream cheese and look over my way.
Demanding an answer to a question before opening up a conversation, without the usual niceties, was something I was quite used to by now.
He wiped his gorilla-shaped neck with a towel and his overgrown, childlike form was ugly and instructive.
“Which house? There are so many,” I threw the questions straight back.
“Well, I guess you haven’t made up your mind yet. I heard you were looking.” He boomed back at me.
“We certainly are,” I smiled enigmatically to conclude the conversation. I turned away and waved to no one in particular in the distance behind him.
“Bye Paul,” I said. I didn’t see him leave.
The fact was I had no more idea than they did. In private we never talked together about buying a house - it was almost like the topic was taboo, and the odd time I brought it up he got busy or walked away.
We were looking at least three days a week, but never with appointments, just impromptu drop-ins to sales offices dotted around the area. I went along because I loved looking at the houses, and liked that the sales assistants were trying to work out if he was actually a client or not-an question I was also asking myself.
* * *
Christmas was coming up and I had to leave for Europe to see the family. Tim wanted to stay in Florida to play tennis and see his family who were visiting from Manhattan.
We had now settled into the rental house, but never spent any more time there other than to sleep, shower, and change clothes; and certainly never to eat.
The pool lay undisturbed, save for one leaf that had fallen through the screen and floated aimlessly onto the pale blue surface. I promised myself to swim every week, but as time went by, the idea of climbing into a huge pool of freezing water began to horrify me as much as it had done Tim.
The screen doors remained shut, but I did open the bedroom French doors a couple of times when he was in the shower. I always felt I was inviting a huge fight, so I always went back and closed them.
I never had a lot of time to see the galaxy of stars every night through the bathroom skylight as I was becoming exhausted from the daily and nightly pace. For some reason, people seemed to rush from activity to activity so as not to miss anything.
I suppose Paul chose to ask me the question, as he knew he was not going to get any answers from Tim.
None of us were.