Chapter 17. The Porch
Dear Comrades, Colleagues, Neighbors, Relations, Readers, Friends (CCNRRFs):
This is the final chapter of the first part of Rainwood House Sings. I hope you have enjoyed the story so far. Thanks for reading!
The book will be published in its entirety later this year, and I hope you will get the full story!
Meanwhile, I am working on:
completing and producing the book
publishing it—pub date is October 1st!--with the support of my trusty collective of activist fiction novelists, under our imprint Life in the Liberated Zone.
completing my bag of tools for bring it out into the world, including author newsletter and website.
And I plan to go back to writing essays, since I miss that, and perhaps you do also!
Last—and still in the future, though I am shooting for the near future—a new podcast where activists share stories and think together about life in the belly of the beast we’re struggling to transform. Stay tuned!
Demetrius sees Marlie’s car putter up to the curb.
Samantha flies off the porch to greet her. “Abue, look! Anther Panther antlers! From Cole!” Samantha thrusts her head forward like a small charging reindeer, then points at him on the porch, where he stands awaiting his fate.
Marlie squints across the front yard at him, then looks down at the blinking headband. “Just what you always needed!”
She puts an arm around her granddaughter’s shoulder and the two walk back up the path to the House. At the bottom of the porch steps, Marlie stops and looks at him standing on the top step. “Sorry I’m so late,” Marlie says. “Had an unexpected meeting.” She turns to Samantha. “I thought you would be at Kathrin’s.”
“Um…” Samantha pulls off her antlers and peers down at them.
Demetrius watches Marlie contemplate the girl and the books scattered near her backpack. “Never mind, chulita. Cole is here, so you haven’t been alone.” She turns to him. “My friend, the computer guru, will come by tomorrow late afternoon.”
“Does this mean you spoke with my grandmother?”
Marlie nods. “She says she’ll vouch for you as a housemate, since she trained you out of your messiness.”
Demetrius laughs. “She really did.”
“In that case, we’ll be a trial to you, but maybe you’ll be a good influence.”
“In other words… I’m in?”
“Yes!” Then, “Well, there’s just one more thing.”
Demetrius keeps his lips in the shape of a smile, but his relief drains away as he thinks, What now?
“Well, I have the first month’s rent you gave me last night,” she says. “But, uh, I also should ask for a month’s security deposit.”
“Well… sure.” He hopes he doesn’t sound as bereft as he feels. Parting with a thousand of Granny Gus’s dollars will leave him nearly penniless. “Fine!” He’ll be out of here before next month’s rent comes due, he assures himself; then he can get his deposit back.
“And of course…” She grips the iron railing at the bottom of the steps. “Of course there are the utilities.”
Demetrius concentrates on maintaining a neutral expression.
“Charging for utilities is customary, too,” she says, her brows knit.
He waits, breathing evenly.
“But Rainwood House is in such bad shape, with hardly any insulation...and leaky plumbing... and all that.” She waves her hands, taking in the whole rundown structure. “There’s no actual way to measure what you use, and it doesn’t seem fair. So I was thinking…” She looks at him tentatively. “If instead you help with making the house more winter-tight, and maybe look at the pipes in the basement for that organ effect you were talking about last night…” Her voice trails off.
“Sure!” Demetrius hurries down the steps, hand outstretched.
Samantha, twinkling antlers once more on her head, grabs her grandmother’s wrist and pulls her forward. She brings the two adults’ hands together, adds both her own, and shakes them all vigorously. “Yay for Rainwood Boarding House!”
Marlie looks at her askance.
“I mean, yay for Rainwood Collective Democratic Boarding House!”
“RCDBH for short.” Demetrius is starting to feel giddy.
Marlie chuckles. “We might have to work on the name, but I like the concept.”
“So do I!” Demetrius catches sight of Madame Crow watching them from across the street. He turns to climb the steps. “Why don’t Samantha and I make dinner to celebrate?”
“Yes!” Samantha hauls her grandmother up the stairs.
As they enter, the rusty hall radiator emits a bassoon-like note, as if Rainwood House is celebrating, too.
This story is really growing on me. I can't wait to read the whole thing.