We signed the closing papers at an oak table in a title office that smelled like warm printers and burnt coffee.
I initiated boxes until my wrist cramped.
Dani slid her driver’s license across the table, then looked over at me with a half-smile.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded like it was that simple.
~
The first night in the house, the bedroom still echoed. I walked the hallway and touched the walls—then grabbed a tape and began measuring their lengths.
Then the work began.
We spent a weekend on ladders scraping popcorn off the ceiling while music played from the phone in her pocket.
I spent a summer on a scaffold painting the outside, sweat dripping in my eyes and burning like tears.
When the dryer vent fell apart under the house, I muttered at it.
When a copper pipe didn’t solder like the YouTube guy said it would, I swore at it—quiet enough that Dani wouldn’t hear from the other room, then loud enough that she did.
At night, I sat at the kitchen counter with my laptop open, building spreadsheets for budgets I could never quite make feel safe.
The mortgage portal had a login screen that looked cheerful. I checked it anyway, closed the window, and opened it again.
One evening Dani found me there and slid a mug of coffee toward me.
“You’re doing it again.”
“I’m just making sure.”
~
We left for Russia in winter.
We packed in the dark, the house heater clicking on and off as bugs blew out of the vents. Still, I could see my breath if I tried.
At the airport, I kept our passports in my front pocket. I touched them every few minutes with one hand, I held Dani’s hand with my other.
Then, she got sick.
It started with her rubbing her temples at breakfast and saying the tea tasted wrong.
By afternoon, she was shivering under our hotel blanket while the wind pushed snow against the window.
I sat on the edge of the bed and watched her eyes open and close, hoping they steadied.
~
By the time we flew home, the house felt unfamiliar once again.
The walls were still painted.
The dryer still tumbled.
The mortgage portal still had a login screen that looked cheerful.
Downstairs, the heater clicked on and off.
I would take care of the bugs in the morning.