The Imperfection of Swans (14 page)

His smile transitioned to something a little more real. “Great! I’m really excited about Kevin’s new adventure.”

Something clicked in Renata’s eyes as she looked back and forth between Kevin and Scott, her gaze finally resting on her son. “I see you got something else while working on the loan details.”

Kevin stammered, at a loss for words himself. “Mom, I… ah….”

“I think we should go.” Renata turned and disappeared into the living room.

Scott watched her and then turned to Kevin. “Sorry. I should have called. I’ll leave.”

“Probably for the best.”

“Text me later?”

Kevin nodded.

Scott was already gone when Renata reentered the hall and handed Noelle her coat. She looked at Kevin and the empty space by the door. “You may as well call him back. I’m fairly certain you don’t want me here right now. And I don’t want to say something I’ll regret.”

Again, the lack of yelling made Kevin’s blood run cold.

Renata marched past Kevin, opened the door, and exited.

Noelle hesitated, then followed her wife, pausing to kiss Kevin on the cheek. “We love you, dear. Your mom too. It’s just a bit of a shock.”

“I know. I should have warned you. I didn’t know he was coming over.”

She grimaced. “I doubt that would have helped much. Warning or no warning, it’s still Scott.”

Noelle rarely spoke ill of anyone, though Kevin knew she wasn’t a fan of his ex-husband. “Come on, Noelle, people cheat. It happens sometimes. It doesn’t mean they’ll do it again. I really think he regrets that we got divorced.”

“I’m sure he does. He’d be a fool not to.” She placed her hand on Kevin’s cheek and stroked it with her thumb. “And it’s not the cheating, Kev. Or if he’s changed or not. He’s Scott.” She paused, apparently searching for the right words. “He doesn’t bring you peace.”

Renata popped her head back into the doorway, her voice sharp. “Are you coming, Noelle?”

Noelle stroked Kevin’s cheek for another second and then left.

Kevin stared at the door, rather numb from watching his moms leave.

He managed to continue packing up the apartment for about twenty more minutes before he texted Scott and told him to come over.

CASPER

HE WOULD
have placed money on it being a shrill, off-tune whistle. Maybe the drumming of fingers, but he figured it would have been one of the music majors whistling that finally turned him into a murderer. It wasn’t either. It was the kitchen counter being covered by a fine dusting of coffee grounds. And it didn’t actually turn him into a murderer, but Casper did look longingly at the knife block. He could lean over and pluck one out. He even knew which one he would use. The six-inch serrated utility knife. He wouldn’t need anything massive—his rage would suffice.

All he wanted was to cook a goddamned breakfast without any whistling, drumming, or clacking in the background and to not have coffee grounds left behind by one of the conductor/barista extraordinaire wannabes.

With a longing look at the knife block, Casper pushed himself away from the kitchen counter and stomped back up the steps to his room before the visions in his head covered the walls.

When had he become so angry? He’d worked with some of the most egotistical, sadomasochistic chefs in the city. He’d been screamed at, cursed out, and belittled, and never uttered a word besides, “Yes, Chef.” It was what you did as you clawed your way up the culinary ladder. It hadn’t been fun, but it hadn’t been that hard either. Not for him. Casper—easygoing, laid-back, friendly. He could almost be a hippie, for fuck’s sake.

Until living in hell disguised as the home of musical doctorate students.

Casper pulled out his phone to text Kevin, then thought better of it. The past three weeks had been stressful enough for Kevin—he looked like he was about to crack. Casper let the phone fall back into his pocket. What Kevin didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. Or stress him out.

Digging through his closet, he finally found his old sleeping bag under a pile of other crap. He pulled it out, snatched the pillow off his bed, and exited his room. When he was halfway down the stairs, a keyboard began to clank away from one of the upper rooms.

Casper ran. Literally ran down the stairs, nearly smashing into the front door as he threw it open.

He slammed the red door shut behind him, took a few steps, then lifted the pillow and sleeping bag in the air and shouted for joy at the top of his lungs.

The few people milling about on the sidewalk all stared at him like he was insane. Like maybe they could see the thoughts he’d been having a few short minutes ago. Casper didn’t care. He did notice a pause in the clanking scales of the keyboard.

He let out a sigh.

The clanking began again.

It didn’t matter. Casper headed toward his car.

He could come back to shower and cook meals and change clothes.

He was free.

Actually, he’d shower at the gym and eat out. He’d only use the place for storage.

Casper stored the sleeping bag and pillow against the far wall of the brownstone’s apartment. He doubted Kevin would wander up there anyway, and maybe he wouldn’t care, but Casper would rather cross that bridge later. For now, just knowing there were no more music students around was all he really needed.

THE FIRST
three weeks in January hadn’t gone how he and Kevin had expected. Casper had envisioned already having some counters installed, or at least ordered. Maybe having a couple of industrial-sized ovens on their way.

Not so much.

There were umpteen billion permits to pull, paperwork to submit to the historical society, business and food handler licenses to file.

He’d known about them, at least some of them, but he’d never thought about it taking so long. Sure, in theory you filled out a form or met some requirements. Simple and done.

However, nothing was simple or done.

Every single step he and Kevin had taken had found a glitch.

The website was down.

They’d filled out form C, and they were supposed to fill out form D. Oh, and form B.

The person who reviewed requests from the historical society had a death in the family and would be out for a week. Yes, they had someone covering their duties, but they were overwhelmed with the added workload.

Appointments with contractors and inspectors were never on time, if they showed at all. There seemed to be a monopoly on the market, as none of them were in a hurry to fulfill their commitments. Nor did they seem worried that their lack of professionalism would cost them a job. If every one of them showed up late and in a bad mood, then none of them were in danger of losing a bid.

However, they had gotten one thing done.

For four solid days, they cleaned. Sometimes with both of Kevin’s moms joining them. They even dusted the crawl space and the apartment, though they didn’t intend to use either for the foreseeable future. Casper managed to hide his sleeping bag and pillow in his car before the others noticed.

It didn’t matter if they were going to have to tear up some of the wall or flooring during construction. Kevin and Renata insisted everything must be clean and spotless first.

And it was. The brownstone glowed, from top to bottom.

Casper shuddered to think what Kevin might have done if he’d been in Casper’s apartment that morning and found coffee grounds yet again. Blood would have flowed. No doubt. And if Kevin hadn’t done it, his mother would have.

Casper and Noelle had bonded, often giving each other knowing glances as Kevin and Renata took a toothbrush to clean out cracks between floorboards, or had an emotional meltdown that a light switch had been installed slightly crooked into the wall.

At times it was almost like watching a sitcom. A sitcom with dysfunctional, high-strung characters, but still.

Even with all of the stress around things, and Kevin and Renata’s bickering and psychotic cleaning, Casper really did love watching the three Bivantis work. His own family was quieter, less argumentative, and calmer in general. However, there was a closeness between Kevin and his mothers that Casper had rarely experienced. At times Casper wondered what he’d gotten himself into, but overall, even with the stress and the setbacks, he knew without a doubt he was where he was supposed to be.

KEVIN AND
his moms were on the first floor, cleaning. Again. Casper had no idea what was left for them to clean at this point, but they had found something, it seemed.

For his part, he was taking the day off. He and Charu were going to the movies. Casper was pretty sure he’d seen a judgmental look pass between Kevin and Renata as he’d introduced his friend and announced their plans for the day. Whatever. He couldn’t take another day of cleaning dirt that was no longer there, nor messing with paperwork for that matter. Just one day off every three weeks surely wasn’t too much to ask.

“So, your plan is to put up new drywall?” Charu picked at a section of crumbling wall.

“Yes. And Kevin is planning to replace the ceiling as well.”

Charu glanced toward the stairs that led to the first floor and lowered her voice. “Is he crazy?” She motioned to the aged tin ceiling. “You can’t get rid of these. They’re gorgeous.”

It was Charu’s first time seeing the brownstone. They barely got to see each other, as their days off rarely coincided. She was obviously completely enamored with the building.

Casper shrugged in way of response. “Kevin likes things clean. I doubt the ceiling could ever be clean enough, even if we stripped it.”

Charu looked up, walking slowly around the space as she inspected the tin. “They aren’t really in that bad of shape. A little rust here and there, and they’ve never been painted, so there is nothing to strip away. They just need to be cleaned and polished.”

“I agree, I think it would be beautiful. Can’t you just see the copper glowing on the ceiling while the wood floor is glowing below.”

Charu sniggered. “You’re so gay.”

“Surprise. Surprise.” Casper waggled his finger at her playfully. “And don’t be mean. Or I might cancel our movie date.”

At his words, Charu’s eyes widened. “Actually, I just canceled it. Now come on!”

CASPER WAS
convinced Charu was something of a miracle worker. Not only had she gotten the Bivantis to actually stop cleaning, but she’d enlisted them all to leave the brownstone and go to the Home Depot at South End.

Four hours later, there were ladders, buckets, sponges, Brillo pads, brushes, and plastic tarps covering the floor of the brownstone’s second level.

From atop one of the ladders, Noelle carried on for the thousandth time over how beautiful the ceiling was starting to look. “Charu, you are brilliant. I never would have guessed these old ceilings could look like this without hiring professionals to restore them.”

Charu turned from where she was doing something on the wall. “I’m glad they’re turning out so well. They are too beautiful to get rid of or cover up.”

“They’re kind of dull, actually.” Kevin helped scrub soapy water into the tin, but he was the least convinced.

“That’s what the polish is for.” Charu returned her attention to the wall. “Besides, even if you don’t like it, which you will, but even if you don’t, you were planning on covering them up anyway. No harm done.”

“And it beats cleaning.”

Both Kevin and Renata looked at Casper like he’d spoken sacrilege.

Noelle laughed.

Casper padded carefully over the plastic-covered floor. He could just see himself falling down and breaking something now that he no longer had health insurance. He let out a little gasp when he looked over Charu’s shoulder and saw what she was doing.

She shushed him. “Be still. Give me some time to do this without drawing attention. Your new friends here seem a little high-strung.”

When he didn’t answer, she glanced back at him.

“This is like the ceiling, correct? You boys are planning on replacing them?”

“Well, if we weren’t, we’ll have to now.”

Charu waved him off. “Oh, you of little faith. Now go help. And try not to get caught staring at Kevin’s stomach when his shirt rides up.”

Casper hissed as he glanced to make sure she hadn’t been overheard. “Charu!”

“What? You’re not as subtle as you think.”

“Kevin is my business partner. I don’t think of him that way.”

“Sure you don’t, Casper.”

“I DON’T
think this look is what we should be going for.” Kevin crossed his arms and scowled.

The four of them stood in a semicircle around Charu. She’d called them over to show what she’d been working on.

“Well, it’s not quite perfect. We can take some heavy-duty sandpaper to the edges of the drywall, to make it not quite as an abrupt appearance.” She scraped at the chalky substance with her nail. “I meant to get some when we went to the store, but I forgot.”

Casper shook his head. He shouldn’t be surprised by his friend. “So you had this part planned from the beginning too, huh?”