WATCHING BRAD
Part 183
Lindsay sat with beside Mom on the sofa, watching Mom's favourite soap opera on ‘the telly' and sipping a glass of chocolate milk. Brad and I spent the better part of an hour and a half with Justin and Jeremy, camping with them in the livingroom campground before instantly teleporting ourselves to Algonquin Park where we set up Brad's blanket and clothes peg tent on the banks of a gently-flowing river there, then off to the rocky shores of Newfoundland and on to the vast, flat prairies of Saskatchewan, then high up in the mountain tops in the western Rockies. Finally, after tobogganing down each of the Three Sisters, we headed off-continent where we set up camp on the wild savannahs of deepest, darkest Africa where we watched the elephants and hippos and zebras and lions and gazelles whilst sharing a slice of Ouma's homemade banana cream pie with the chimpanzees who chittered at us from the trees where we'd pitched our tent.
We left the boys to themselves as they visited Nana in England and set up camp in Sherwood Forest and spent some time playing with Robin Hood and his band of Merry Men before they hiked and skied and paddled cardboard box kayaks all the way up to the North Pole where they paid a surprise visit with Santa Claus, his toy-making elves, and Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer.
Brad joined me in the kitchen where we once again set about the task of trying to find a new home for the family. Imagine our surprise when we were alerted to an Email from none other than ‘the other Clive Barker'. He was still in Canada, but would be heading back to London on Wednesday and didn't want to leave without knowing the full extent of the fire and how we were dealing with it. Almost a week earlier, Clive had graciously switched seats on the plane so Brad could sit with me on our emergency trip home. We had said our goodbyes at the airport with promises to keep in touch but, the moment we climbed into the cab, Clive Barker had been completely erased from my mind. Still, I was pleasantly surprised that we hadn't slipped
his mind and he was genuinely concerned.
I sent off a quick Email to him, offering our apologies for being negligent in our correspondence and thanking him for his concern before assuring him that, despite losing virtually everything, including our home, everyone had come through the ordeal totally unscathed except for a few frazzled nerves. We were all adapting as well as could be expected considering the circumstances.
Currently, I wrote to him,
we are living with my parents but we're trying to find temporary accommodation back in the city until we can rebuild. I'm sure my parents enjoy having us here, but it can't be easy for them. It's one thing to babysit their grandchildren for a few days, but it's another thing to have the entire family move in with them. LOL. I doubt that they would ever complain about it, though. Parents are like that, aren't they? As my Dad would say, "It's my job."
We wished him all the best, and a safe trip back to London, and added our promises to keep in touch. Brad attached a few photos of the house (both before and after the fire) and family, including one which Terry had taken of our entire family plus both sets of parents. Just before Brad clicked on the ‘Send' button, I halted him and we searched for a photo of our wedding to send along as well. We decided on two photos where Brad and I were exchanging our rings. They showed the entire wedding party and we were only too happy to name everyone involved.
With that done, we sent off the Email and then set about looking for some floor plans for the new house. At Brad's suggestion, I did an online search for floor plans suitable for Canada and found several sites with plans designed to suit the National Building Code of Canada. I called up several different sites and we quickly glanced through them before deciding on one website which seemed to offer the best prices and design options.
I began the task of inputting the search parameters.
"How many bedrooms are you going to look for?" Brad asked.
"At least four, I think," I told him. "That will leave one room for a guestroom. I don't think we have to worry about the twins having separate rooms for a few years yet. Unless something serious happens, I can't imagine them not sharing a room even after Lindsay leaves home. Still, it would be nice to have a room big enough to put in two beds, though. Even if they don't want their own room, at least we could give them their own beds if they want them."
Brad's voice lowered to a hush. "Things might change, but, right now, I can't see Jeremy sleeping in a different room than Justin, let alone in a separate bed. No matter how old they are."
"That was my thinking, too." I turned my attention back to the laptop computer in front of us. "Okay. Let's get this thing set up. Minimum four bedrooms, then, and at least three full bathrooms." I went through the list of options, setting up each of the parameters. When we were satisfied with our selections, I clicked the ‘search' button and we were offered several hundred plans from which to choose. There were ten plans listed on the first page in a vertical row, each plan offering a small ‘thumbnail' photo or a sketch drawing plus a brief description of each home. Links would take us to more complete descriptions and pop-up windows with sample floor plans. Links at the bottom of the page would take us to other pages and more plans.
"Wow," commented Brad as he slid his chair closer to mine and put his arm over the back of my chair. "Lots more than I expected."
"Yeah," I sighed. "Best get started, then, eh?"
I've shopped for several homes in my time, but, for the most part, it was my real estate agent who did most of the shopping. I would just meet him at the check-out line so I could see what he'd found for me. It was a lot different looking for a new home which didn't even exist yet except for pictures and a few words on the computer screen. It was an illuminating experience, to be sure.
We had looked through almost one hundred and fifty samples and had found only two homes which we liked and thought were suitable enough for us when Justin and Jeremy came running in from their world safaris and climbed into our respective laps. By this time, Brad had taken control of the laptop and was scrolling through the images on the screen.
"Whatcha doin', Daddy?" Justin asked when he was settled into place.
I gave him a gentle hug from behind as I kissed the back of his head and replied, "We're trying to find a new house to build so we can live there."
"Oh. Ouma said we can have some more chocolate milk."
"And another Rice Krispie Square!" Jeremy added, his little voice sounding enormously unconvincing..
"No, I did not, you little scamp!" Mom's voice bellowed from the livingroom.
The boys' head spun around to look at each other, their eyes wide with surprise and their mouths hanging open in an ‘Uh oh' position.
"She
heard us!" Jeremy whispered to his brother.
Despite my best efforts to keep control of myself, I burst into laughter. I knew exactly what the boys were going through. When I was a kid, I was convinced that Mom could hear me no matter how far away from her I was. Many were the times I'd get home from school and Mom would be standing there in her apron, staring sternly down at me, and saying, "I heard what you said, young man."
She never told me what she heard, nor did she ever punish me for it. She would simply conclude with, "Just mind what you say next time," and then she'd go back to her work of preparing supper for me and Dad.
Brad joined me in laughter as we hugged our boys. I gave Justin an extra squeeze and told him that they could each have a Rice Krispie Square as long as they shared it with us. They were content with that. I stood up, setting Justin on the chair. As I went to get their milk and snack, Justin scrambled onto his knees on the chair, leaning on his arms against the tabletop and staring at the computer screen.
Moments later, with treats and milk close at hand, Justin was sitting in my lap again and I clasped my hands around him. He sat back against my chest, putting his hands over mine as if holding them in place over his belly. His legs dangled on the outside of mine, swinging forward and backward in tempo to some music that only he could hear.
Our sons looked on intently and in silence as Brad scrolled down the next page as we quickly glanced over the photos and nixed them, and then the next page. We paused briefly to look at a few of them more closely, but only for a moment before we dismissed them as well.
Brad clicked to the next page and began scrolling down again. Suddenly, the telepathic bond Justin and Jeremy shared kicked into gear. The exact same instant that Justin bolted upright in my lap, lurching closer to the computer screen, Jeremy slapped Brad's hand in earnest and shouted, "Stop, Daddy Brad!"
Justin responded with his arm outstretched and his index finger jabbing at the air in front of the monitor. "We like that one, Daddy," he shouted just as loudly as his brother.
The photo showed just the sketch of the house and I probably would have simply skipped over it had Jeremy not stopped us.
Brad clicked the mouse cursor on the photo and a larger view of the house appeared on the screen, complete with a more detailed description. Both of us leaned forward to get a better look at the image. I looked at the picture, and then I looked at the description, taking special note of the square footage.
"Look, Justin!" Jeremy exclaimed, pointing at a sketched tree in the front yard with a long rope dangling from one of the branches. Near the ground, the rope spread into a pyramid shape and was attached to a horizontal car tire hanging a short distance off the ground. "A twirly swing!"
Justin clapped his hands in excitement and was quickly joined by his twin brother. I wish I could say that I was as excited as my Sonskyns were about the house, but I wasn't. Granted, it was a beautiful house, but. . .
Brad must have shared my thoughts. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him turning his head toward me and I glanced in his direction. "Gee-sus, Murphy, Pops," he groaned. "It looks expensive."
I silently nodded my agreement.
"Where are the bedrooms, Daddy?" Justin asked, his voice full of energy and excitement and anticipation.
Without being asked, Brad called up the floor plan which popped up in its own window. A quick glance at the sketched diagram gave me the answer and I instructed Brad to go back to the photo.
"Right there," I said, pointing to two windows at the front of the house.
Both Justin and Jeremy pointed to the window on the left at the same time, their mental ‘bond' kicking in once again. "That's our bedroom!" they said in unison, clapping their hands again and giggling with glee. Even without seeing their faces, I could see the excitement in them.
Lindsay appeared beside me, placing her hand on my shoulder. "What is it, Daddy?"
Before I could answer, Mom, who had appeared to stand behind Brad, commented, "Oh, my. Now
that is a beautiful house. It would make a wonderful home for you."
"It's really pretty, Daddy," my daughter said into my ear. "It looks like Nana's house in England. I like it a lot."
I turned my head to smile at her, but it was a challenge to do so. I had quickly made a few calculations in my head, multiplying the square footage with an estimated cost of construction per square foot and coming up with a figure. I looked sadly back at the screen. As much as I would have loved to have given my children that home, I knew that I would not be able to afford to do so.
It broke my heart.
* * * * *
"How much sweat equity are you willing to put into the new house, Theodore?" Dad asked me. The boys were already in bed and Lindsay was sitting in my lap with my arms around her as we sat around the kitchen table.
"I don't know, Dad," I replied. "I mean, what could we do, really?"
"Much," Dad said. "You would not have to concern yourself with the plumbing, for one thing. That house would be mine."
"I don't expect you to pay for it."
"Nor do I, my Sonskyn. It would be you who pays, but, through me, you can purchase the materials wholesale. By doing the work myself. . ." (he glanced briefly toward Brad) ". . .with Bradley's help, of course, I will know that it is done safely and correctly and it will cost you nothing more than dinner for myself and your mother at a restaurant of our choice."
I, better than most people, knew how much it would cost to hire a plumber for even one hour. It cost a fortune just to get them to come to your house. And I knew how much time was involved in plumbing a new house. I also had a pretty good idea how much the supplies would cost. Judging by the bathroom reno we'd done for the twins, the dollars and cents keeping a running total in my mental calculator rolled up faster than the cost of gas during a fill-up. I knew that Dad could ultimately save me many, many thousands of dollars.
"Hear that, Pops?" Brad beamed as he interrupted my thoughts. "Dad wants my help!"
"Only because he doesn't trust me with a propane torch." From Brad's expression, I could tell that he wanted to know more, so I told him. "I almost burnt our house down in Crystal Beach when I tried to solder a pipe under the kitchen sink once. Dad was at work and the tap started leaking. I thought I could fix it."
"I remember that, Daddy," Lindsay chuckled. "We heard you say a bad word and then I smelt the smoke and Grandma grabbed that pitcher of grape Kool-Aid out of Mommy's hands and dumped the whole thing on you trying to put it out." She laughed. "That was funny. Your face and hair was all purple."
"Not to mention my floor," Mom added.
I glanced at Brad. He was grinning at me. "What are
you looking at!?"
"I'm just trying to picture you with purple hair," he said through his titters.
"Shut up and get us another cup of tea," I told him with mock annoyance. "And get Lindsay another cookie."
"Oo-o-o-O-O-O-O-o-o-o!" Brad chirped, his lips spread in a wide, chipped-tooth grin. "All thumbs
and sensitive!"
"I'll get it, Dear," Mom offered as she began to push herself up from her chair.
"Stay put, Mom," Brad said as he jumped quickly to his feet. "I'll get it." He grinned at me and winked, then said, "Just teasing you, Pops." He bent over at the waist, his face coming closer to mine. I got my lips ready for the kiss I expected from him but, at the last instant, he altered his course and kissed my daughter right on the lips. "Give that to you Dad, would you, please?"
Before I could respond, Lindsay was spinning around in my lap to plant Brad's kiss on my lips as he went to the stove to fetch the teapot. "Mmmm," I told her as I rewarded her with a warm hug. "Just what I needed. You know something?"
Lindsay shook her head back and forth.
"Brad's kisses taste exactly like yours do," I told her. "That's probably why I love him so much. Every time he kisses me, he reminds me just how much I love you." I gave her another warm, snuggly hug and another equally warm and snuggly kiss. The glint in her eye and the smile that I got from her in return was well worth the humiliation of the night I had purple hair.
"I sincerely believe you can do this, Theodore," Dad continued, bringing me out of my reverie.
"How, Dad? I've done the math already. Even with you doing all the plumbing, it doesn't work, and I don't know how I can
make it work."
Dad held my gaze, his face calm and reassuring. "Can you sweep floors?"
"Of course I can."
"And can you clean up scrap lumber and toss into a bin?" he asked as Brad finished pouring out the tea and giving Lindsay two cookies. "Can you pick up nails and broken bricks and other scraps which gather underfoot?"
"Where are you going with this, Dad?"
"If you can do even those things, Theodore, you can save yourself many, many thousands of dollars. Also, you would have both of your families and all of your friends who, I am certain, would be more than willing to help you."
"And Mark," Brad added as he poured out the tea. "I bet he could help, too."
"I can help, Daddy," Lindsay offered.
"The more you can do yourself, my Sonskyn," Dad concluded, "the more money you will save. Despite what you think now, I believe that you can make this happen."
I thought about that for a few long moments until Brad sat down beside me once again and put his hand on my arm. "At least we can look into it, Ted. At least we can try."
I thought some more. The room was silent except for the sounds of Mom and Dad preparing their cuppas and Lindsay quietly munching on her peanut butter cookies. I looked up into Dad's eyes and held his gaze for a minute or two before asking, "Would it really make that much of a difference, Dad? Us doing all that piddly stuff? Would it make a big enough difference that I could afford it?"
Dad nodded his head once and leaned forward on his elbows for emphasis. "Theodore, contractors pay their employees many, many thousands of dollars to do nothing more than to spend many, many hours doing all that ‘piddly stuff' as you call it. That labour is included in their quote. If they do not have to do it, you do not have to pay for it. It can make a large difference." He turned his attention to Brad. "Bradley, ring up your father and ask his thoughts on the matter."
"Don't have to," Brad replied immediately. "I already know the answer. When I was younger, I used to work with Dad on the job during summer and sometimes after school. Me and another guy, that's all we did was clean up the work space. The guys doing the building could keep working right to the end of the day. They wouldn't have to stop to clean up their crap."
"Whether they are pounding nails with hammer for eight hours," Dad continued, "or sweeping dirt into the dustbin for one of those hours, carpenters are paid the same amount of money. If you and your friends can commit yourselves to even one hour per day, the savings on the budget would be noticeably substantial."
The picture was still on the laptop and I turned my attention to it. We all liked the house the boys had found for us. Brad and I had gone over the basic floor plan and found it much more suitable than the old house, not to mention the few we had also selected. It was also considerably larger than the old house and had more than enough room for everyone. Most importantly, when we all went to bed, our children would be only a few steps away from us when we slept.
I was still convinced that I couldn't afford to build it. I was convinced that we would have to settle for something smaller. . . something with a few more compromises which would make it more affordable for me.
I sat there, staring at the photo and wishing that I could make it happen.
Little did I know that I was looking at a sketch of what would ultimately become our new dream home.
To Be Continued
