Learn From Cigarette Burns

My eyes widened slightly as our realtor agent opened the door for us, exposing the pretty foyer that welcomed everyone into the house. I tightened my hand around my husbands and then pulled him inside, anxious to see the rest of the house.

“Oh, John,” I whispered as I took in the sights, “I think this could be the one.”

“It’s a little more than we wanted to spend,” he muttered softly, “but I think you’re right. This could be the one.”

“This is a four bedroom, two and a half bath house,” our realtor informed us, “this is the property that has a small studio in the back. I believe the current owners used it as a dirty kitchen.”

“When was this house built?” Johno questioned. “It looks pretty new.”

“Two-thousand five,” she replied. “Just a couple of years old. The owner is a contractor so there are a lot of custom features he added into the house.”

“What kind of custom features?” I wondered aloud as we wandered into the kitchen.

“Hardwood flooring instead of linoleum, marble countertop, maple cabinets, things like that.”

John let out a low whistle as he released my hand and went to examine the items in question.

“This kitchen is simply amazing,” I gushed, “just think of all the fancy meals I can cook in here, babe.” I said, hinting around to my husband.

“You can’t cook,” he said with a small laugh, “granted you can bake like nobody’s business, but your cooking …” he trailed off, wrapping an arm lovingly around my waist.

“If I had a kitchen like this,” I teased, “I can practice.”

“Goodness,” he sighed as we moved on from the kitchen to the dining room, “Dee, you’re going to break my bank account.”

“You knew when you asked me to marry you that I was a high maintenance girl,” I joked, “I don’t want to hear you complaining now.”

John and I continued to banter back and forth like this as we explored the rest of the house. Our realtor pointed out a few facts about the house here and there, making sure to bring notice to the types of features she knew I was looking for, such as the numerous skylights and the larger than normal guest bedrooms.

When we were done exploring the house and the backyard, our realtor turned to us with a warm smile.

“Well,” she asked, “what do you guys think?”

“I think this is the one,” I admitted.

“But,” John spoke up, “we’ll have to talk about it to our parents. It’s a lot more than we wanted to spend on a house.”

“Would you like to go and talk to them, and then come and meet with me at my office in a few hours?” She asked. “I mean, if you guys decide you want to put in an offer for it?” She left the question hanging up in the air, and I turned to look at my husband, pleading him with my eyes to take a chance on this house.

I knew that John thought this place was perfect, but we weren’t exactly the wealthiest newlyweds in the state. John and I had originally planned on waiting for a while before buying a house, but after the wedding we changed our minds. I didn’t want to bring our first child home to a cramped apartment, I wanted to bring them home to a house that was ours.

Our parents were helping us out with the down payment and we had agreed on a certain price range. However, we haven’t found anything within our price range that we really liked. Perhaps if we talked about it with our parents, we could negotiate spending a little more money than we originally planned to.

“Yes,” John finally said, “we’ll talk to our folks, see if we can work something out. I really like this house, I can see ourselves raising our kids here. And plus, we haven’t really seen any place else that, you know, felt like home.”

Our realtor smiled warmly as she nodded her head. “That sounds good.”

Before long, John and I were on the way to my parents’ house. While making a quick pit stop at Carl’s Jr. for a late lunch, John called his parents and asked them to meet us in half an hour. His parents calmly obliged, although I think they may have had their suspicions as to what this ‘meeting’ was about.

“Babe, do you think we’re ready for a house?” John whispered quietly after we finished our lunch.

“Yes, I think we are,” I said, nodding my head, “I mean, I know that we’ve only been married for five weeks, and things have been happening so fast it seems, but I think we’re ready for a house.”

“I’m going to leave for tour in three weeks,” he mumbled, “I don’t want to leave you by yourself to move all our belongings. That is, if we even get the house.”

“It it happens, it happens, John.” I told him. “If we were meant to get the house, we’ll get it, and if I was meant to stay behind and do all the dirty work, then I’ll do it.” I said with a small smile in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Babe,” he sighed.

“John.” I mocked.

“I just don’t want to rush things.” He said. “I don’t want to start our marriage off with a mistake.”

“It’s not a mistake,” I whispered, “it’s only a mistake if it feels like it. Does it feel like a mistake to you to buy a home?”

My husband remained silent for a few seconds before he shrugged his shoulders. “No, it doesn’t feel like a mistake.” He replied. “Nothing with you could ever feel like a mistake. It’s just … I guess what I feel is guilt for leaving you home all alone.”

“As long as you make it home, I don’t really mind.” I said.

John turned his green eyes up to mine as we came to a stop at a red light, and gave me a soft smile. “I’ll always make it home to you, sweetheart,” he promised, “always.”

“I know,” I replied, sliding my hand into his. “I love you John O’Callaghan.” I whispered.

“I love you, Dee O’Callaghan.” He said softly before laughing quietly to himself, “I’m still not use to calling you that.”

“Give it time,” I grinned, “I’m still not quite use to hearing it.”

John brought my hand up, kissing it gently before he let it lay on his lap. His stare focused on the road once again as the light turned green.

“We should start thinking of names,” he said absentmindedly.

“Soon,” I said, “first we gotta get things figured out with the house.”

John nodded his head, although the faraway look was still in his eyes. Without a doubt he was thinking about how things would be like when the baby got here. He got like that, every so often, and I learned to just let him be. It was never any use questioning John.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“We’ve looked at all the available houses in our price range,” my wife of three weeks muttered softly, “there’s nothing out there. No place else that I want to invest my time and money on, building a home for ourselves.”

Mr. Thompson sighed quietly and then shot a look to his wife. They must have exchanged some sort of agreement that was unbeknownst to the rest of us, because Ron nodded his head and then turned his eyes to me.

“Are you guys sure that this is the house you want?” He questioned.

“Yes,” I said confidently, “as soon as I walked in, I felt like I was home, you know? The area is nice, the house is nice, and,” I paused momentarily, looking over at Dee, “you should have seen the look on Dee’s face when we walked in. I knew at that moment it was the one. This is where we want to make our home.”

Dee’s hazel eyes lit up with excitement, happy that I had backed her up on this. She reached underneath the table and grasped my hand tightly. Judging by how tightly she was holding it, it didn’t seem like she was going to let go anytime soon.

After exchanging a few looks with my own parents, Ron turned back to me. “Alright,” he agreed, nodding his head, “if you two are confident that this house is the one, we’ll pitch in a little more for the down payment. On one condition though,” he said, “we have to stop by the house and check it out for ourselves. If we think it’s worth the time and money, we’ll put down more on the down payment. If it’s not,” he paused, giving his daughter an apologetic look, “I’m sorry baby, but you’re going to have to keep looking.”

I thought that Dee would pitch a fit at the arrangement, seeing as how her heart was set, but instead she jumped up and motioned for everyone to follow her.

“Come on,” she demanded, “let’s get this done so we can put an offer in.”

Ron let out a low whistle as he stood up. “Confident much?” He questioned Dee as he helped his wife up.

“You’ll see,” Dee told him, already pulling me toward the door, “as soon as you get there, you’ll see.”

Without another word, we found ourselves out on the front lawn of Mr. and Mrs. Thompson’s property, figuring out who was riding with whom. After splitting ourselves up into two groups, with Dee riding along with her parents, and myself chauffeuring my parents, David’s dark red Toyota Tacoma slowed to a stop in front of the house.

“What’s all the commotion about?” He asked as he stepped out of his truck, and then dodged out of the way as his sister pulled out onto the street.

I waved at the tall boy with the same hazel eyes as his sister, and caught his attention. “We’re going over to check out this house,” I told him.

“A house?” He asked excitedly, “wait for me, I want to go!”

“Get in,” I said, nodding to my car.

“But, I need a shirt!” He pointed out, and for the first time I realized that he was in fact only dressed in flip flops and a pair of swimming trunks.

“No time,” I said, shaking my head.

“But-” he started, and then stopped, “dang it, wait up then.”

I got into my car and started up the engine. A few seconds later David climbed into the back seat beside my mom.

“Oh, hello Mrs. O’Callaghan,” David blushed softly, “a little mishap at work. A couple of hoodlums got into a fist fight at the pool, and the one with the broken nose got blood all over my shirt as I pulled them apart.”

My mom replied with a witty remark as I backed out of the driveway, which caused both David and my dad to erupt into a fit of laughter. I, on the other hand, had absolutely no idea what she has said. My stomach was a ball of nerves, and my heart seemed to flutter with excitement every so often.

By the end of the night, it was highly possible for me and Dee to have just put an offer in for our first house. Having only been married for five weeks, most people would say that things are going way too fast. It doesn’t matter, though, this is what feels right to us.