The Words - An Autobiography

New Digs

We eventually made our way back to the grand foyer, tired from the day, and the addition of the past two hours that we'd spent walking through the halls, each of the rooms, and climbing nearly every stair in the house.

The realtor told us, "The sad thing is, the mortgage payments and utilities for this place would likely be less than the rent and utilities for any of the apartments I showed you earlier."

There'd never been any expression of my wife's interest in us purchasing the house, so I laughed when she asked, "Just out of curiosity, what does the guy want for the place?"

The realtor made a "well, how about that" face and told my wife, "We haven't completely settled on a price, which I ought to do before I put out a sign and start getting phone calls. So, if you'll excuse me a moment...." She stepped into what she'd earlier told us was the waiting room next to the grand foyer to make her call.

"One-hundred-thousand," she announced, returning a moment later, adding, "This would easily be worth two million in any other part of the city and a lot more in some. And I don't believe it is in bad shape - just some paint here and there - which is sad. I don't know who has been caring for it. I didn't even notice any dust, except for the wine bottles."

My wife smiled, inclining her head knowingly toward the carriage house in the back, and said, "I notice that too." Then she made a sweeping gesture and inquired, "What about with all the stuff?"

The realtor laughed, asking, "Seriously?" She didn't wait for a response, just excused herself again, then, not a minute later, came back and told us, "One-fifty, all in." She was shaking her head, laughing, and at least getting a little entertainment for her efforts that day.

My wife looked at me and mouthed the words, "I want it." Then, she turned back to the realtor and countered, "One-twenty, all in, for everything."

The realtor and I both stopped laughing.

My wife had neither laughed nor smiled.

"Okay," I told her, "I guess if you're serious, which it seems you are; hard as it still is to believe, we can easily afford that."

The realtor looked back and forth between us as though we were playing tennis and finally said, "If you aren't fucking with me, excuse my French, you're about to free me from a colossal pain in my ass. I'll not only buy you dinner; I'll take you to the best place in town."

My wife and I both nodded in agreement that we'd buy the house while waving off the necessity of dinner. We had other plans. The realtor smiled and extended her hand to my wife, who took it, asking, "Don't you have to call your client?"

The woman admitted, "The only call I made was the first. My client authorized me to dump it for one-hundred, everything included, so you left twenty grand on the table." Then she asked, "What do you plan to do with this place? It is cool, I guess, but you hardly need all this room. Or all this stuff."

Still, without a smile, or any other indication of humor, my wife told her, "Naked hide and seek. Maybe we'll make a place down in the basement for the winner to tie up the loser."

The woman roared laughter and told me, "Your wife has a wicked dry wit."

I knew, without question, that we'd be playing naked hide and seek as soon as we received the keys, and my wife might want to experiment with tying one another up in the basement. I wasn't sure how you kept score for naked-hide-and-seek, but there were enough rooms and pieces of furniture I assumed she'd want to try out as soon as we had the place to ourselves.

I envisioned her sprawled naked on the dining room table or two rungs up the library ladder, with one leg thrown over my shoulder and my face buried between them. Then the pool table, of course. I was aroused enough by those possibilities that I considered asking if the realtor would give us some time alone to play.