Photo courtesy of David Meredith, photographer
“I know we can do it!”
Richard infused his voice with all the pep he could muster.
The house was a dump. He wanted to put a match to it. A tent would be better to live in. The very prospect of what fixing this wreck-of-a-building would entail had him exhausted in advance. He’d fixed homes before: this project would be measured in years, not months or weeks. He could almost see the creepy crawlies inside walls, the rot above the ceiling, the mold under the floors, the who knows what in the rafters.
He hated it already.
Who buys a house sight unseen? What on earth did she expect?
“It’ll be great!” He enthused, his arm protectively around her shoulders.
She’d been so proud to find a house that could fit them all and within their minuscule budget, further shrunken since he’d lost his job. She wanted to surprise him.
He hated seeing her devastation when they arrived at their new home, belongings and kids crammed into one truck.
“The children will learn so many skills,” he stressed. “You’ll see. We’ll go room by room and prioritize.”
“It’s a disaster,” she sniffled. Looked up. Smiled. “And I love you.”