The other day an older, bronzed gentlemen came to our door. He looked in and screamed at us that our house was a disaster. He said our father wasn’t from here and so he couldn’t be our father. He told us that although he’d never remodeled a house before, nor even assembled a simple IKEA coffee table before, he was the only capable of fixing our house. He told us our house used to be the best house, it was a great house, but that it’s not anymore.
I didn’t understand what the man was talking about. When we moved in the house was falling apart. Holidays were miserable. I remember when dad accepted cousin Grace after she came out. Grave even brought her girlfriend to Thanksgiving. This new salesman was quite rude to Grace and the white-haired man in his car yelled that Grace was a sinner.
He promised he could build us a wall in the backyard, and not only was he not going to go down to Home Depot to hire Mexicans, he was going to have the Mexicans pay for… somehow. ‘Real’ Americans, he said, were hard working and special and only he understands just how special they are. He winked when he was done and a chill went across my spine.
My sister liked this new guy. So did Grandpa. They were flattered when he complimented them and when he put all the blame on dad, my grandpa ejaculated an epithet so vile about the color of dad’s skin even my sister gasped.
My mother hated him. She said he leered at her when nobody else was looking and talks over her. The man insulted the women of the house while claiming to have the utmost respect for them. His wife just stood there in a ton of makeup smiling awkwardly. I had no idea what was going on.
The man would not go away. There was this big kerfuffle about who to let take over control of remodeling the house. He kept insisting he was the only man for the job and really insisted on the man part. He said it all had to go.
After a huge debate even though more of us wanted somebody else in charge, somehow he got the job and boy did he grin, ear to ear, coast to coast, you never saw somebody brag that much about succeeding at such bullshit.
Tomorrow he’s going to start demolition. Even though he hasn’t told us, every contractor he’s brought in has not-so-secretly lusted over tearing our house apart. Their whole lives they’ve conspired to knock down certain rooms and do away with the plumbing. I mean, Jesus Christ, where’s all the shit going to go without the pipes? But nobody listened.
Tomorrow our house is going to be flipped by a madman who’s never held a hammer in his life. Sigh. It was a pretty little house while we had it.