Fate Interrupted

Epilogue

Ren

DECEMBER 2017

The wind blows hard on the window as I kneel on the heated tile of the bathroom floor. I scratch my nose with the back of my hand and get back to work. I've finished two bathrooms already, and I'm on the last one, the biggest one—ours.

It's Christmas Eve, and the whole family is coming for dinner tonight. I've spent the entire day cleaning the house from top to bottom because everyone is going to stay the night, with my mother as a babysitter so the rest of the adults can go to Midnight Mass.

I stand, put the cleaning supplies back under the cabinet, and wash my hands before doing a final wipe of the long marble counter and large freestanding bathtub by the window. Now that the cleaning is finally done, I can go get changed.

If you haven't gathered, we don't live in our little rental anymore. Carlo, being the wealthy and retired architect that he is, decided to buy a property up in one of the forested headlands with a distant view of the ocean to build his west coast dream house—a large modern structure with a slew of layered angled rooflines and walls of glass.

As you first view the house, you might think you are looking at one large home, but really it's two smaller houses pushed together. Three bedrooms and an office comprise one side, with just two bedrooms on the other and a shared great room and guest room in between. The great room has a large two-story peaked roof, a fireplace, and a full-length wall of glass that articulates and slides away when the weather is nice.

Just finished this fall, we moved in and became his "caretakers" who look after the house while he splits his time between California and Italy. It really is beyond believing—Sometimes, I pinch myself to make sure my life is still real. 

I exit our bedroom, festively attired in a red plaid caol neck dress, and walk up to the glass railing, ready to view my spotless house decorated with a tall Christmas tree in the living room—the tallest one I've ever had.

As I look over the edge, my stomach drops out. No. I close my eyes and suck in a calming breath through my nose. God, I love him, but sometimes...

I come downstairs and survey the damage up close—it's worse. 

"Lucas! Come down here right now!"

"Why?" I hear Lucas call from up in his bedroom upstairs.

"Just come down here!"

I hear his six-year-old feet bounding down the stairs behind me.

"What, Mom?" he says, as we stare at his entire storage tub of lego tipped out on the living room carpet. But that's just the start of it.

A multitude of action figures are splayed across the floor, and some sort of craft with red paper, scissors, and crayons has taken place. Why are my hair ties everywhere?

Finally, all the pillows, chair, and sofa cushions are piled up in a mountainous tower next to the tree with his wooden train tracks going through to under the coffee table, leading to a baking sheet filled to the brim with water.

"What?? Look at this mess!" I point to the cookie sheet. "What's that?"

"The lake."

Duh. I heave a frustrated sigh. I wondered why he was so quiet.

"Luke, you need to clean this up right now."

"What? No, Mom! I'm still playing with it!" 

"Lucas, I told you—"

Just then, the front door swings open, and we whip around to see who it is. In walks Gio, laden with eight heavy shopping bags in his hands.

Typical Gio. He always waits till the day before to shop for presents.