WATCHING BRAD
Part 202
"But Gee-sus, Murphy, Brad," I said, "it's a. . ." I looked around the small bedroom in which we were standing. It was big enough for a queen-sized bed with a small wardrobe on the left side and a night table on the right, but it didn't leave much room for dancing. "It's a bloody RV!"
"Yeah," Brad stated matter-of-factly, "but it's a Winnebago."
As if that made a difference.
"Okay," I admitted, "it's an
expensive RV with emphasis on ‘recreational'. Brad, this isn't a home! It's a bloody camper!"
"Anywhere we live is home, Pops."
"Are you pulling my leg or are you seriously considering this?"
"I'm serious, Ted," Brad replied and I could see in his face that he was. "Sure, it's small, but I don't think anything could be more perfect than this for a few months. You heard Sam. His brother and Paul's family live in it all summer long."
"That's summer, Brad. What about winter? Do I have to remind you of the four seasons we get up here? Winter, winter, summer, and winter. And one of those winters will be here in a few months."
Brad laughed. "It's not that bad, Pops. Besides, like I said before, they're calling for a mild winter and Sam told us Paul had the Winnebago completely custom insulated. Besides, if it gets too cold in here, we can always go into Mom and Dad's house and sleep on the floor."
I looked around the bedroom once more and imagined the rest of the motor home in my head. Entry was on the passenger side of the vehicle directly behind the passenger door. Inside the door, just to the right of the stairwell, an arched opening led into the cab of the van. It could be closed off entirely with two sliding doors. An open, overhead storage compartment cum bedroom was built over the cab with a short wooden railing set into place along the edge to keep sleepers from tumbling out of bed. It was accessible by a small ladder which could be pulled out from the platform and swung down to lock into place on the floor. That's the bed which the twins had claimed despite my fears that they would wake up in the wee hours of the morning to go for a pee and go for a little tumble.
Against the wall opposite the doorway, beneath a thermal window with a pull-down blind, was a surprisingly comfortable sofa which pulled out into a double bed. That's where Lindsay would sleep. and I could only hope one of the twins didn't land on her if and when they took their early morning tumble. To the left of the sofa was the dinette. Two cushioned benches sat on either side of the table. That entire section, the dinette and sofa, slid out mechanically at the push of a button and added almost fifteen square metres of living space to the motor home.
Directly to the left of the entry door was the kitchenette. A sink was set into the counter near the door and the counter space stretched toward the back of the Winnebago between the sink and the propane stove and propane refrigerator. Cupboards were attached to the wall above the counter and matching cupboards and drawers were installed beneath the counter, stove, and fridge. Another window was set into the wall above the sink and counter.
A doorway in the middle of the back wall between the refrigerator and the dinette led into the bathroom area and the main bedroom where Brad and I now stood. The bathroom door, when opened, actually closed off the bathroom from the front of the camper with the toilet and sink on one side and a shower on the other. Another accordion door could be pulled to close off the bedroom from the bathroom.
At about ten metres in length and three unextended metres in width, there was just over twenty-five square metres of living space. The stretched-out version gave us forty square metres. Not much room for a family of five. Still. . . .
"I know it's small, Ted," Brad continued softly as if he'd read my mind, "and I'm not saying it's a good idea, but I can't think of a better one right now, especially with the kids starting school next Tuesday. It's small, but it's comfortable and we could park it right in Dad's front yard. We couldn't get much closer to home than that."
I stared at Brad for what seemed like a long time, then stepped to the door and opened it. I stood there and looked toward the front of the Winnebago camper. In the overhead compartment above the driver's cab, Justin and Jeremy were lying on their backs in their bed, their hands cupped behind their heads and their knees bent. Their feet were planted flat against the mattress and they chatted quietly and giggled and tittered lightly. Lindsay was busy pulling open drawers and cupboards and discovering what treasures they contained.
Brad stepped behind me, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. "It's your decision, Ted," he said in a husky whisper, "but I'll go along with whatever you decide."
I stood there for another few moments, listening to our boys giggling and watching Lindsay trying to figure out what she would do with a lemon zester she'd found, and then I shook my head. "No, Brad. It's
our decision. Not just mine." I turned to face him. "We'll talk with the kids first, then we'll talk with our parents. And then you and I will discuss it and make a final decision together. Okay?"
A smile curled Brad's lips and his hands came around my neck and my hands went to his waist. "I love you, Pops," he said with an extremely sexy whisper which sent blood rushing into my nether regions.
"I love you, too, Tiger." My voice came out as something of a groan as Brad pressed his crotch against mine. It was a warm day and it became even warmer.
And then he pulled me to him and we kissed.
* * * * *
The twins were all for living in the RV, of course. They sat on our laps as we sat on the sofa bed in the RV. Lindsay sat between us.
"We like being up high, Daddy." Justin's happy voice was full of unbridled excitement and I doubt if the smile on his face could have been erased with twenty-grit sandpaper.
Jeremy was equally excited and his grin just as big. "We're bigger than you, Daddy Brad!"
I suspect they would have been happy living under the tarpaulin in the Hayes' backyard as long as they were with me and Brad.
"What about you, Sweetheart?" I asked as I put my left arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to me.
She glanced quickly around the room before looking up at me and answering, "I like it, Daddy, but I don't think I want to live here."
I squeezed her shoulder lightly in encouragement. This would have to be a unanimous decision. "It wouldn't be for long, Sweetheart," I told her gently. "Only for a few months until our new house gets built and we can move in."
"But it's so far away from school," she said. "And my friends."
"Oh, Sweetheart," I explained quickly. "We won't be living
here. We'll talk to your Grandma and Grandpa Hayes and see if we can park there in the front yard. It will almost be like living right at home until the house is finished. If we do that, do you think you'd be happy living and sleeping in the camper?"
She looked down at the floor. For the first time in a long time, she tapped her bottom lip with her index finger and I knew she was doing some serious thinking. We waited patiently and I counted the taps on her lower lip. There were eleven of them.
Finally, she looked up at the overhead compartment which the twins had claimed as their bedroom and then at me again. She said, "If J and J snore too much, can I go sleep in Grandma's house?"
I grinned at her and hugged her even closer. "Sure you can, Sweetheart."
I already knew Brad's vote, which meant that I had been outvoted four to one. My vote ultimately made it unanimous. As long as we could work through the doubts and practicalities.
We found Sam waiting for us outside, joined now by his brother, Paul, who had been absent when we arrived. Sam introduced us to him and handshakes of greeting were shared all around. There was no doubting the family resemblance but I guessed that Paul was the elder brother.
"Sam told me about the fire," Paul said sympathetically as he shook my hand. His grip was strong yet gentle. "I'm very sorry. I can't even imagine going through anything like that."
"Thank you," I returned. "It's not something I want to go through again."
He released my hand and, with a glance, brought our attention back to the Winnebago. "So, what did you think of Winnie? Good enough for your needs?"
"Well, the kids seem to like it, but I'm a bit concerned that it might not be warm enough in winter."
"Oh, she's warm enough," Paul assured me. "Polyurethane foam insulation, and all the windows in the living quarters are double-paned thermals. She has a thirty thousand BTU propane furnace. Trust me. She'll keep you toasty enough."
I wanted to believe him, but I was still a bit skeptical. It was, after all, just a motor home, Winnebago not withstanding.
"It's warm enough, Ted," Sam interjected as if he saw the skepticism on my face. "The wife and I went camping in the Yukon with Paul and his wife in November a few tears back. There was only one night when we needed extra blankets and that's when it dropped to twenty below. Of course, you want to make sure you keep the propane tanks topped up. It would be a bu. . ." He stopped and looked at the kids, correcting himself before he said the word I knew he was going to say. "It would be a pain to run out in the middle of the night with an empty reserve tank."
He seemed sincere and I felt that he wasn't lying to me. He seemed to be genuine in his desire to help us out.
"What about the holding tank? Is it insulated, too?"
"Oh, yes," Paul replied. "And there's a built-in heater that will thaw them out in case they freeze."
"Them?" Brad asked quizzically.
"Grey and black," Paul said and, when seeing the look of confusion on Brad's face, added, "Grey is for grey water - sinks and the shower. Black is for the toilet. Depending on how much you use them, you might have to dump them every few weeks or so. The toilet is low-volume flush, but I wouldn't recommend flushing it after every pee. Of course, if you don't mind driving to the Durham Water Treatment plant to dump the tanks every few days, then you can flush all you want. I'll give you directions to it."
"I know where it is," I told him. I didn't really know precisely where it was, but I had a pretty good idea. It wouldn't be that hard to find it on my own. "How much is the dumping fee?"
"Free," Paul replied. "But you can only dump during normal working hours. There's no dumping in the off hours."
"That shouldn't be a problem," I told him.
I asked a number of other questions until I was satisfied that, despite being a bit cramped, it would be safe and warm enough for the kids and wouldn't be much worse than living in a small apartment. On the bright side, we wouldn't even have to move. The home would come to
us.
"Well," I said finally, "is it okay with you if we think about it overnight before we decide?"
"Take all the time you need," Paul replied with a pleasant grin. "Winnie isn't going anywhere. She's done her duty for us this year. She'll be right here if and when you decide she can help you out."
It was only a matter of formality getting permission from John and Bernice to use their front yard as a parking lot for a few months. We knew they'd let us. We stopped there on the way home and stayed only long enough for us to have a homemade butter-pecan tart and a glass of milk. Brad and I drank coffee. Bernice, without saying as much, seemed particularly pleased that we might be moving back sooner than later. She missed baking for the children and was anxious for them to visit whenever they wanted again.
Later, back home, when the kids were bathed and tucked into bed, Brad and I sat with Mom and Dad, discussing the Winnebago and having evening tea and coffee. Dad brought up something which I hadn't even considered - the water supply. Odd that I had thought about disposing of the water but hadn't even thought about how to get it into the RV in the first place. I seem to recall Paul mentioning a white water storage tank with a direct-line hookup.
"I can install a temporary supply line," Dad said, "from John's house to the caravan."
"Do we have to bury it?" I asked.
"No," Dad said, shaking his head.
"Won't it freeze if the temperature drops below zero?" I asked.
Again, Dad shook his head ‘no'. "I will wrap it with a low-voltage heater sock and a foam insulation tube which is very similar to your pool noodles. Between the two of them, the pipe will not freeze."
"Please be very certain about this, Teddy," Mom said. "It won't be easy all of you living in a caravan, no matter how short the interval."
"People do it all the time, Mom," I told her. "I've seen it lots of times on those reno shows on television. If they can do it, why can't we?"
"In many of those cases," Mom said, "those people had little choice."
"Well, our choices are getting less and less every day."
"But you still have choices, Dear. Remember that."
"I know, Mom, but the kids like the idea of living in the RV."
"It is a novelty for them," Dad said bluntly. "The novelty may wear off rather swiftly and you may regret your decision when you have to start looking for other accommodation."
"If it does," I told him, "we'll deal with it when it happens. At the moment, though, it would be so convenient for us, especially when we're working on the house at night. The kids would be right there with Bernice and we would be right there, too, in case we're needed."
"And we wouldn't have to drive anywhere after we're finished at the house," Brad added. "We just walk across the lawn and we're home."
"Don't worry, Dad," I continued. "We're not going to make any harsh decisions. Brad and I will talk about it over the next day or so before we decide."
"Indeed," Dad nodded. "Then I shall bring home the necessary supplies tomorrow in the event that you decide to engage the caravan."
Brad and I discussed it that Thursday night before going to sleep, then again the next evening. We had more or less made our decision but, to be certain, we arranged another viewing of both the RV and the apartment with Sam and Paul for Saturday morning. We took the kids to see both. The boys were still more keen on living in the camper and Lindsay was concerned about living in the apartment and being so far away from the school and her friends. She said she'd rather live in the camper than have to be driven too and from school each day.
Over lunch, we all made the decision. We decided to go with Winnie. We made arrangements with Paul and gave him the address, then went to Brad's parents to wait. Paul arrived about an hour or so later after having stopped off to refill the propane tanks for us. He expertly parked the Winnebago on the Hayes' front lawn and needed only a single piece of two-by-six the driver's front wheel to level the vehicle.
Brad decided to take charge of changing and filling the propane tanks and dumping the holding tanks and paid close attention, with Jeremy watching with equal fascination and interest, as Paul went through the procedures step-by-step. The instructions were posted there, both textual and pictorial, so all Brad really needed to do was to understand them.
I took charge of writing the rent cheque which, I might add, was performed with exquisite finesse. I didn't mind writing it, though. My insurance company would write me a cheque to replace it.
The twins accompanied Brad and I on a final walk through the camper with Paul. Lindsay stayed inside the house with her grandparents. Paul's best piece of advice for us? "If it's yellow, let it mellow. If it's brown, flush it down."
It was fun explaining that one to the kids. The twins thought it was enormously funny and giggled and clapped their hands in delight.
Sunday morning, Dad and Mom followed us into the city so Dad could hook up the plumbing. Lindsay stayed inside with her grandmothers whilst John and Brad helped Dad with the piping and insulation. They also hooked up the heavy-duty extension cord supplied with Winnie to connect her up to the grid - i.e. an electrical socket in John's single-car garage. I and the twins observed from the sidelines.
After cranking up the propane refrigerator to begin cooling off, Brad and I left Lindsay with her grandparents and took the twins with us as we went grocery shopping. We got only the essentials for the small refrigerator but we stocked up on enough canned and packaged goods and cereals and snacks and such to fill the cupboards quite adequately.
By the time we finished unpacking the groceries and putting them away in Winnie, Mom and Bernice had an evening meal ready for everyone. We had something of a picnic in the livingroom with our parents sitting on the sofa and chairs whilst the rest of us parked ourselves on a blanket spread out on the carpet.
We slept our last night at Mom and Dad's place on Sunday night and spent much of Labour Day packing the belongings we would take with us to our new home and boxing up the belongings which would remain behind until our new house was built.
That night, after bathing the kids in the main house, we sat together on the sofa in Winnie with the twins in our laps and Lindsay sitting between us. We munched microwave popcorn from a large, plastic bowl set atop Lindsay's lap and watched television. At eight o'clock, Brad made up the beds for the twins as Justin and Jeremy stood at the bottom of the ladder and waited impatiently. They were excited. Of that there was no doubt. Only a few days earlier, they had been anxious and excited about their first day of school. Now they were anxious and excited about sleeping in their new bed for the first time. I was hoping the excitement of both events wouldn't keep them awake all night long.
Lindsay was in bed by nine o'clock, but the twins were still awake and whispering loudly between themselves despite our best efforts to get them to settle down. Most of the lights were turned out and Brad and I sat in the booth facing the kids and cuddled each other in silence as we waited for sleep to overtake them. It seemed to take forever, but it was a pleasant forever spent holding Brad close and feeling him and smelling him so close to me.
By ten-thirty, all three kids were asleep and Brad and I adjourned to our own bedroom. Tomorrow would be a big day for us all, but especially for the boys. It would be their first ever day of school.
I'm pretty sure Brad didn't get much sleep that night.
I know
I didn't.
To Be Continued
everything else was a dream, that means another 200 chapters
