Page 296 of Seasons of Love
Removing those with a small tool before sanding them isn’t fun, but the result is worth it.
I’m finishing a sandwich I prepared for lunch when there’s a knock on the door.
There’s no need to guess who it is, just a need to prepare myself for the unpredictability that is my current new neighbor.
I open the door, and I’m immediately faced with a box that I guess has something edible inside. This is Bubble, after all.
“Are you hungry? I made you lunch,” he says.
I stare at him in confusion.
“Good morning,” I say.
He smiles, shyly holding the box to his chest. “Oh yeah. Good morning, Coach. What’s your name, by the way? No one ever says it.”
I raise a brow, but I’m not about to do an ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours’ kind of thing. Especially not with Bubble. “It’s Riley. Riley Dempsey.”
He cranes his head sideways like he’s inspecting me. “Hmm, yeah, I can see it. You’re a Riley. You’re also Coach though. Anyway. Food?”
“No, thank you. I’ve just had lunch.”
He stares at me blankly. “But I didn’t see any smoke coming out of your chimney.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “Last I checked, adding some cold meat and lettuce to two slices of bread didn’t require any special cooking skills.”
“You had a sandwich?” His eyes bulge out like I’ve committed a cardinal sin.
“Yes. Now, can I help you with anything? I’m kinda in the middle of work here.”
“No,” he sighs, “I guess not.”
He walks away, muttering something about nutrition and big chunky thighs. I have no fucking clue what he’s talking about, but I’m not calling him back.
I take a deep breath to smell the forest air, but all I get is strawberries.
My dick stirs, so I slam the door shut and go back to work.
There’s a TV in the cabin, but I need something louder. Something that’ll penetrate my brain and push my thoughts aside.
I turn the radio to the loudest setting and continue my work.
As I see the kitchen cabinet doors lined up behind the couch, I know I made the right decision. It’s getting darker outside, but now I can’t stop.
My arms ache, and I need a hot shower. One more and all the upper cabinet doors will be sanded.
The wood beneath the dark stain is clear, as I suspected. I’m not a wood expert, but if I had to guess, I’d say it’s pine or maybe a light oak.
I can’t wait to put them up again. At least I don’t have a huge amount of stuff inside the cabinets, so it won’t take long to clean them inside and sand the frame.
My belly rumbles, so I prepare myself another sandwich and eat it in a few bites, downing it with a beer as I stand back. For the first time since I bought the cabin, I can see what it will look like when it’s all finished.
The sense of pride takes me by surprise. I’ve had a long career of feeling proud of my achievements through my players’ success. Whether it’s a team win or a player getting a contract for a bigger team.
I’ve always felt proud of the barely out-of-high school kids who had never been away from their parents but still gave it their all. Going on to become amazing players and outstanding men, giving back to charity and their community.
But this thing in my chest is new, and I like it. Maybe next time my mom asks me if I’ve found my happiness, I can tell her I’ve located some of it.
With renewed energy, I continue to work on the doors until they’re all sanded, and I have a neat row of light-wood doors ready to be stained with a clear varnish.
