WATCHING BRAD
Part 173
Brad followed us in his truck as I drove into the city to take the kids to their soccer camp. Mom rode with him in the passenger seat. His truck would come in handy if another trip to the build-it centre was necessary. Jeremy had wanted to ride with him, but we quickly nixed that idea. Still, he was happy that he could twist around enough to see his Daddy Brad out the back window of the van. It was one of those things he'd simply have to get used to.
When we finally reached the intersection where we would part ways, Brad beeped the horn lightly and waved ‘goodbye' to Jeremy, who waved back at him and said, "Bye, Daddy Brad." I drove straight through when the light turned green, but Brad turned left.
Most of the cleanup had been finished by then but the sounds of wood chippers could still be heard occasionally as once-majestic trees were being reduced to mulch and destined to the compost pile at the city dump. Nothing can alter the look of a neighbourhood like the loss of many of its trees.
My tasks were simple that morning. I was to drop the kids off at camp and then go buy a suit of coveralls, gloves, and boots for David. I decided that I would buy a suit for myself as well. I was also asked to pick up more dust masks. John had thought he had a supply of them in his shed out back of his house but he could find only five masks and he felt more would be necessary by the time they were finished building the supporting wall. He had enough safety goggles to go around.
I dropped the kids off at camp, did the shopping, and was back at the house shortly after ten o'clock. David was already there, anxiously waiting for me to arrive so he could get dressed and ‘get in there and start mucking about' as he put it. I was just anxious to get in there and to see if I could get the little safe out of my office.
Brad and his father were already dressed in their coveralls and were sorting materials. A Skilsaw lay on the ground connected to an outdoor outlet on John's house by a long, yellow extension cord. David was helping them until I arrived at which time he joined me in order to get dressed before heading into the basement.
"Brook's coming in on the GO this afternoon," he said cheerfully as he pulled the coverall jacket over his T-shirt. He'd already pulled the pants over his shorts and pulled the drawstring tight around his waist. The jacket had a convenient hood which we could pull over our heads and tie tightly around our faces. The waist of the jacket could also be tied tightly around our waists. They were well-designed to keep the nasty stuff out. I watched David as he dressed and followed his lead. At least that way I could look like I knew what I was doing. "I thought maybe you could go pick him up and talk to him."
"Sure," I said.
"Do you think your parents could watch the kids later on?" he asked hopefully. "I told Brook that it would be a good idea for us to take you and Brad out for dinner tonight seeing as how your honeymoon got cut short and all. Our treat, of course."
"I think that can be arranged," I told him.
"I brought extra clothes so I could change after I grab a shower at Lori's place."
"Does she know you're thinking of staying in Canada?"
"I've hardly talked to her since the wedding, but I haven't mentioned anything to her yet. I don't think she'd be surprised if I told her, though."
"I don't think she would, either," I said. "When I first met her, she was quite keen on getting you up here so you could see what it's like for yourself."
David was tying up his jacket waistband when he leaned into me and asked out of the side of his mouth as if he were asking me some deep, dark secret. "Did Lori tell you that I would like someone like Brook? You know, him being black and gorgeous and sexy as hell and all."
"No, she didn't," I told him honestly, "but you dropped enough hints that I could figure it out myself. I was kind of wondering what would happen when you two got together. I'm glad it's working out."
David playfully jabbed me in the side with his elbow and winked at me. "I'm just glad he likes ‘short little white guys'."
I could tell that David was really falling for Brook. I could only hope that I would have good news for him after I had my chat with Brook.
* * * * *
I had tried to prepare myself for what I would see in the basement, but, apparently, I hadn't prepared myself enough. You can never imagine anything like that. It's like trying to imagine London after the Blitz or a city after an earthquake or a provincial park which has been ravaged by a forest fire. You can't imagine the devastation unless you've ‘been there'.
Well, I've been there now and I never, ever want to go back again.
John insisted on going down into the basement first, carefully climbing down the ladder which was set just inside the front door where there was no floor. He wanted to make certain that it was safe enough for the rest of us to join him. David scrambled down the ladder next when given the ‘okay', followed by Brad who stopped part way and looked around him. He finally looked up at me though the safety goggles which covered his eyes and spoke to me through the white, round mask which covered his face from the top of his nose to his chin.
"I don't think you should come down here, Ted," he said softly. His voice was softened even more by the air mask which covered his mouth.
"I don't think I should either, Brad," I replied just as softly, "but I have to see it for myself."
We stood there staring into each other's eyes for a few long moments before Brad nodded and continued down the ladder. I slowly followed him down, stepping off the bottommost rung onto the carpeted floor which was still covered with a thin layer of dank, scummy water which sloshed beneath my feet. I turned around, my back facing the front wall of the house, and took my first close-up view of the devastation. I should have been standing in my office and surrounded by four walls. There was only one wall behind me and one more to my left, jogging in an ‘L' shape around the powder room in the guest bedroom. Most of the wall in front of me was gone, as was the entire door. There was no wall to my right anymore. There was only the charred and destroyed remains of the storage rooms along with the diningroom and the twins' bedroom which had fallen into them. Far off to my right and ahead of me, above the laundry room, was the remains of the twins' bathroom which appeared to be held intact only by the floor and wall tiles. The walls heaved in toward me and what was left of the floor sagged dangerously. I knew immediately that no-one would be going into that bathroom again.
I think I would have gasped had I even been able to breathe.
The thing that surprised me most was the way so many things looked so very utterly familiar to me but were so terribly unfamiliar and alien at the same time. Ahead of me, just beyond the spot where David and John were standing, I could see the remains of the den and the bloated, blackened, and water- sodden carcasses of the two sofas. I recognized them but I didn't. I mean, they
looked like my sofas - I had bought them - but it was like I was looking at them in a dream. They were distorted beyond familiarity. I knew they were mine, but, at the same time, they weren't.
To the left, covered in a disgusting skin of scummy blackness, were the remains of the toys. They lay there as if awaiting burial. Off to my right I could see the metal springs of the twins' mattresses and the scorched and shattered remains of one of the dressers. It had smashed, apparently, when it fell through the floor. There was no sign of the other dresser. There was no sign of much else, really. As I had suspected, my sons had lost virtually everything. At my feet lay the disgusting lump which was the Teddy Bear which Brad and I had seen floating into our view that day.
I was lost to everyone as I stood there, looking around and trying desperately to find something which I could save - some little fragment of our lives that I might be able to take back and keep.
"There's nothing left, Pops," Brad said. He was suddenly standing beside me. "It's all gone."
I couldn't respond. All I could do was to turn toward him, take him into my arms, and hold on for dear life.
* * * * *
There was little I could do. Until the supports and the pony wall were in place, John refused to let anyone get anywhere near what was left of my desk to retrieve my firebox. I did what I could to help but, for the most part, the thing I did best was to stay out of everyone's way. DIY isn't something you'll find on my résumé.
The support jacks were the most important part of making the livingroom floor above more stable and to keep Brad's piano from falling on our heads. It was also the most difficult part. John was intentionally slow, cautious, and extremely thorough in getting them into place and he was even more careful when he supervised Brad and David as they worked the jack and slowly raised the floor. It was a very long, very slow process which taxed the muscles of both younger men.
As they worked, John felt that the damage was worse than expected and that the plywood and the jacks weren't quite enough support. He opted to make a simple two-by-four frame to place atop the jacks in order to support the plywood and set about lowering the jacks again and building the frame before proceeding.
They were still working when I went topside to take off my coveralls and get cleaned up so I could go pick up the boys from their camp. I was just taking off the pants when the insurance adjuster showed up on scene. When I had called my insurance company on Wednesday, I was told that the adjusters were extremely busy with all the claims following the storm and that I shouldn't expect anyone until at least Friday. It was now just before noon on Thursday.
"I was in the neighbourhood," the adjuster said with a comforting smile and an extended hand. "I'm Aaron." He looked like an Aaron - slightly taller than me, but built more like Brad which was evident even under his shirt. His handshake was firm, but his smile was gentle and concerned.
"Ted de Villiers," I said urgently as I pumped his hand in greeting. "Look, I've got to go get my sons from summer camp. Can you wait here until I get back?"
"How long will you be gone?"
"Twenty minutes," I replied. "A half hour at most."
He glanced at the house. "I'll probably still be here be here. You don't happen to have your policy here, do you? I've got a copy of it here, but they didn't include any amendments."
"It's all in there," I told him. "We're trying to support the upstairs floor now so we can get to it."
He looked at the folder in his hands. "You're insured with us for both house and contents?"
"Yes."
He nodded. "You'll have to make a separate claim for the contents once you figure out what's lost. I'm just here today to assess the house."
"Of course," I said. As I pulled the coveralls off my feet, I called out for Brad. His head appeared in the open doorway, rising from the basement. "The insurance adjuster is here. Can you show him around?"
"Sure," he said as he climbed the ladder the rest of the way and approached us, pulling off his mask, goggles, and the hood of his jacket.
"You can't go very far in there," I told Aaron, "but you can go far enough into the basement to have a pretty good look at what's left of it, though. You can't go anywhere at all upstairs, but you can look through the windows. Brad can remove the plywood. Oh, and you can wear these coveralls if you want. I'll be back as fast as I can."
* * * * *
"Did you guys have fun today?" I asked as I buckled my sons into their car safety seats.
Both heads nodded vigourously.
"It wasn't too hot today," Justin began, smiling broadly.
"And Peter didn't stink," Jeremy finished.
I knew about Peter. He was one of the older boys who attended the camp through the sponsorship of one of the local charitable clubs. I'd heard he was the son of a single mother who struggled working two jobs to try to make a life for her and her child. He husband had abandoned them and didn't appear to even be living in Canada anymore. It was a very difficult situation for her, I'm sure. The camp, I suppose, was a way for her to keep her young son busy throughout the summer so she could continue working. Unlike Justin and Jeremy, though, Peter stayed for the afternoon camp as well. I'm certain that the recent heat wave hadn't helped his personal hygiene problem.
"You don't tease Peter, do you?" I asked.
"No," Justin said.
"Peter doesn't have a daddy to take care of him," Jeremy concluded. It wasn't often that Jeremy got to hold the lion's share of the conversation.
"Well, I'm glad you don't tease him," I told them.
During the drive home, I was regaled in stereo by two identical voices which updated me on the morning's events and the fun they had. Nothing unusual, you understand, but it made me feel happy that they were adapting to the loss of their home so easily. If only I could have been able to say the same thing about me.
* * * * *
Mom and Bernice were setting up a fine picnic lunch in Bernice's front yard when we arrived. Two large blankets were spread out on the grass and one of them already had assorted sandwiches and fresh vegetable pieces and pickles and cheese and such placed on a platter in the centre of it. There was a large bowl of macaroni salad and another of potato salad and yet another filled with steaming baked beans.
As I drew the van to a halt, Brad was coming out of the house carrying several folding chairs in his arms. Mom followed with a tray filled with a teapot, milk, sugar, and mugs and Bernice followed with a pot of coffee. Aaron was still there, probably invited to stay for lunch by Mom and Bernice, and John Hayes and David were washing themselves with the garden hose. Four sets of coveralls lay on the ground.
The twins were quite adept at unbuckling their seatbelts and opening the sliding door of the van, so they were out of the van and heading across the lawns before I could reach them, leaving me to close the door. They had yet to master that talent and didn't seem at all interested in learning how to do it.
But, that's what dads are for, I suppose.
Mom, John, and Bernice sat on the chairs. The rest of us sat on the empty blanket. Of course, I knelt there and Justin sat on my thighs, as usual, and Jeremy sat in the seat made by Brad's tailor-style crossed legs. David sat to my right and Aaron sat to my left.
"I hope you're insured for ‘Acts of God'," Aaron said as he looked over his shoulder at the blue tarp covering the roof of the house. "I'll do my best, but you many not be covered for lightning strikes."
"Oh. Lightning didn't hit the house," I told him. "Well, at least not directly." I turned around to point at the hydro pole behind me. "It hit the transformer on that pole there and fed into the house and blew out the fuse panel."
"Oh, really?"
"It's not official yet," I told him. "It's being investigated by Hydro One to try to figure out why the failsafes failed, but it definitely hit the transformer. That much has already been confirmed."
Aaron nodded as well. "That would definitely make our decision easier. I'll make a few phone calls this afternoon and see if they can give official confirmation."
Justin twisted around then, holding up a salmon sandwich with a single bite taken out of one corner. In his other hand he held that single bite. "Daddy," he said, "I don't like this stuff."
"It's fish," I told him.
"Oh," he said as he examined the bite he held in his hand. Then he popped it back into his mouth, chewed it and swallowed it before turning around to look at me again. He smiled up at me and said, "I like fish." And then he proceeded to eat the rest of his salmon sandwich.
"Do you think you'll be able to salvage anything?" Aaron asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. "I've been told the soft furnishings and clothes and such are pretty-much euchred."
"Pretty-much," Aaron agreed. "Most people salvage only what can't be replaced. You know - like photos. . . mementos. . . precious items and jewelry. Things like that."
I hated it when people kept reaffirming my biggest fears. I didn't want to admit that everything was gone. I wanted it all back the way it was before.
* * * * *
As the delegated ‘little boy watcher' that afternoon, there was little I could do except to sit back and let Brad and David and John busy themselves in the basement. I certainly couldn't take the boys there, and they seemed to have no interest whatsoever in going into Grandma's house for a nap. They were growing up now and getting away from the ‘need' for an afternoon nap. We were beginning to leave it up to them to decide whether or not they wanted to have one, and they didn't seem to want to have one that day. And so we sat there and watched and listened and waited and kept ourselves occupied as best we could.
It took longer to set the jacks into place than had originally been expected, and there were a lot of eerie and rather frightening sounds coming from the house as weight loads changed and the building shifted. Time passed and I was beginning to wonder if they would be able to get the pony wall built for the morning's inspection but, finally, the three men emerged from the basement at just after three o'clock.
Brad approached us as we sat on the blanket in front of the burnt-out shell of our house, pulling the goggles and mask from his face. We stood up as he drew near and I had to hold Jeremy back to keep him running toward Brad. He was filthy and covered with black streaks of muck and soot, but his lips were spread and curled up into a wide, chipped-tooth grin.
"Job done, Pops," he said, then looked down at an anxious little boy. "Hey, Jeremy. How would you like to squirt me with water? I need to get washed off."
"Yeah!" Jeremy shouted, bouncing excitedly up and down and clapping his hands in glee.
Our watering hose had been disconnected and reconnected to John's outdoor hose and now reached our front yard. We followed Brad to it.
"Stage one finished, Pops," Brad said. "Just the pony wall left to build. He bent down to pick up the nozzle attached to the end of the hose and turned to Jeremy. "Do you know how to use this?" he asked.
Jeremy nodded, his bright and happy smile lifting some of the heaviness from my heart. He took hold of the nozzle, but his hands were too small to squeeze the handle. "Daddy! Help!" he shouted.
As Brad stepped back, I moved forward with Justin. "You can help your brother," I told him and he reached out and grasped the nozzle as well. "Now, when I squeeze the handle and turn on the water, both of you hold it down with your thumbs, okay?"
They nodded. I carefully squeezed the handle, making certain no tiny fingers were caught in it, and then told them to grab on. They were already screaming in delight and jumping up and down in excitement, but they wrapped their hands around the nozzle and the handle and I let go.
Brad got thoroughly washed that afternoon and had just as much fun as our sons had. To this day, he maintains that he did it only to get washed off, but I'm convinced that he did it just because it was as much fun him as it was for the boys.
"It won't take long now, Ted," John assured me as I stepped back and out of range of the spray. He, like David, had already removed his gloves, safety goggles, and mask. "The pony wall will go up quickly now, and then it's just a matter of lowering the basement ceiling onto it."
"Can you finish it today?"
"Oh, absolutely," John promised. "A few more hours, maybe. Not much more than that. It depends on how many times Bradley has to cut those two-by-fours to size," he added with a knowing little smirk.
"We've already cleared space in the basement to build the wall on the floor," David added. "Then it's just a matter of lifting it into place, dropping the ceiling, and tacking the pony to the joists. Which reminds me. Could you pick up Brook at the station? We won't be finished by the time he gets here."
"What time is he supposed to get here?"
"He said he'd be getting in just after four."
I knew that route. It usually arrived at about ten past the hour. "I have to pick up Lindsay at four," I told him. "I won't be able to get to the station in time. Can you get in touch with him and tell him to wait there for me?"
"Sure," David said as he unzipped his jacket in order to retrieve his cell phone from some pocket inside. "Any particular place you want him to wait?"
"Anywhere outside the station."
"Which station?"
"There's only one," I told him.
"Right," David finished, then stepped aside to make his phone call.
I turned my attention to John Hayes. "Do you think your inspector friend will pass it so we can get in there, John?"
John turned for a brief glance at the house, nodding slightly as he did so. "He should, Ted," he said as he turned back to face me. "It's not meant to be permanent, you understand. It's meant only to hold the floor up so we can get in, clean the place out, and get out again."
I leaned into him slightly, dropping my voice to a whisper. "Be honest with me, John," I said softly. "Can we fix my house back to the way it was before? Brad says he doesn't think so, but I think we can."
John Hayes put his hands on his hips and twisted his torso around to face the house once more. His chest swelled as he breathed in a deep breath and, as he released it, he turned back again. His answer was very clearly shown in his eyes and could have gone unspoken, but he told me anyway.
"Bradley is right this time, Ted," he said.
To Be Continued
](/images/smilies/bang.gif "Brick wall ](*,)")
< (Pony Wall?)
