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The second apartment Jason and Melody move into together looks like a boathouse from the outside. Big and white, rounded in the front and back, docked crazily between two houses more typical of the sleepy neighbourhoods in East Toronto, across the Don Valley. In these neighbourhoods, houses tend toward stately sobriety. Muted greens, terracotta, soft gray. They’re accessorized by gardens that have had decades to settle into themselves. Thick, lush, overwild flowers that bloom through black iron gates and archways. Pretty brick paths have been laid in these front gardens, though nobody but the cat of the house ever walks them. These cats spend their days sunning in front gardens, keeping watch over the quiet sidewalks, occasionally startling at a passing car as it glides over the small speedbumps set there to regulate anyone who might have the inclination to speed through the slow, solemn streets. This is where Torontonians buy houses when they have more than enough money. This is where they settle down into middle age, make the casual acquaintance of their neighbours, worry about property value and complain about the mess left behind by dog owners in the big park that is the heart of this neighbourhood. They may also complain about the white boathouse at number 43. Specifically, they might complain about the fact that it’s been split up into irregular rental units and tends to see fairly high turnover in tenancy. They might have added to their complaint that the yard around the boathouse is sparse and short. Green, yes, but unflowered, unaccessorized, untrellised. The boathouse has an air of being only temporary. As though it has only just docked for the day and might be steaming out to another port at any moment. And as if it really were a boat that had mysteriously sailed up from the lakeshore, motored up along Broadview and dropped anchor, someone has built a deck around the second floor that looks just like a floating dock. Standing on the lawn in front of the boathouse gives one the impression of being underwater, of looking up at the surface. *** Jason arranges the lease with the old landlady while Melody waits on the front walk, wondering if she wants to surface or stay down here, underwater. The third floor apartment is a big, sunny one bedroom that walks out onto the roof. Perfect for a couple, but they’ve been warned by the previous tenant, a friend of Jason’s, that the old lady doesn’t like to rent to unmarried couples. She’s religious and doesn’t think its proper for a woman to live with a man before they’re married. There are 3 other apartments in the house; one she lives in herself and the others she has rented to girls. In the basement, there’s a single unit occupied by a naturopath, pleasant and whole-grained looking. On the second floor, there are two female PhD students living together in a one bedroom apartment. It’s unclear if they are lovers or just saving on rent, but in time Melody decides that the great number of red wine bottles in their recycling indicate the former. The third floor apartment is always taken by a couple. The landlady likes to have at least one man in the house, but not a bachelor. That’s why she prefers a married couple. At minimum, they must be engaged to be married. Because they really want to move into this top floor apartment in the house that looks like a boat, Melody and Jason discussed getting her a fake engagement ring that she could flash around to win the landlady’s favour. Jason knelt in front of Melody who was sitting at the kitchen table in their first apartment and he put a plastic juice cap ring on her finger. In mock-seriousness, he said “To have and to hold, in cranberry juice and vodka...” Melody didn’t laugh immediately. Instead, she flashed on something sharp in her core, something that had been edging out from behind her stoic soul, demanding a little sun with increasing ferocity. But she shoved it back and recovered the moment by pitching the plastic ring back and Jason with a laugh and kissing him (with tongue) to show him she’s happy just as they are. As he clutched his heart, indicating the mortal emotional wound inflicted by her ambivalence, she wondered -- if she were drowning, would he be strong enough to save her? They stopped talking about fake rings and decided that Jason would just go in alone. Tell the landlady that they are engaged to be married. They would keep up this lie. *** The landlady, who is ‘some kind of Polish’ according to Jason, turns out to be named Rena. Or Irena. Melody isn’t sure and doesn’t use her name at all when they meet in the hall. She just nods hello politely, with respect, and fidgets her left hand behind her skirt. She is ashamed of their lie. She feels guilty. Not for lying. She feels guilty for not being engaged. For the first time in the 5 years she’s lived with Jason, Melody can’t help but wonder why she isn’t. If Rena’s aware that the third floor couple are living in sin, she doesn’t say so. But she doesn’t waste any kindness either. When Melody nods at her in the hall, Rena looks past her and keeps walking. Melody dislikes her at first, then grows to admire her casual eccentricities. Rena’s brassy blonde hair grows white at the roots. She keeps it wrapped in a red scarf with a white swirl pattern. She shuffles around the house in blue slippers, the kind with plastic bottoms and furry tops, always pushing a broom or wielding a mop or duster. She cleans everything. Even the tops of doorways. Melody admires her thoroughness and acknowledges that her own housekeeping is shameful in comparison. Melody has always thought of good housekeeping as a skill a woman naturally acquires once she’s married. Once she has a reason to put in the extra effort. To that end, she’s never been bothered to dust floorboards, bleach the fridge or make elaborate Sunday night roast dinners. Watching Rena, Melody begins to wonder if her casual approach to housekeeping is the reason she’s not married. Had she got it backward? It’s clear that Rena is a married woman. Or was. There’s no husband now but there must have been at some point. He probably died, Melody imagines, leaving Rena to keep the house. Maybe that’s why it’s been split into units. This used to be all Rena’s house to keep. She wonders if Rena and her husband had their bedroom on the third floor. Melody also wonders if Rena was sad when he died. She imagines poor Rena tucking her blonde hair behind her ear and packing pictures of him away in the box where she keeps her momentos. The pressed rose he gave her when they were courting. A snip of ribbon from her wedding garter. Yellowed anniversary cards. Baby boots made of lace. She sees Rena weeping noisily over this box, wondering how she’ll ever be able to keep the house. Cursing Ivan for leaving her alone to drown in debt. This is only speculative. The present day reality is that Rena lives on the first floor with a dog named Molly and Melody lives on the third floor with Jason, who is now the man of the house. *** Living with Jason is a lot like living alone. Melody is used to it now. He works in one of the all-hour pubs downtown where people go after the bars close for the night so he doesn’t usually come home until Melody has already left for work. But for the first week they live in the boathouse, Jason is home all the time. He takes some time off his job to help her unpack. He sweeps the roof and sets up an old kitchen table for them to sit at during the hot summer months. He wants to paint the sloping walls and on the day they move in, he produces a flourish of colour swatches that he’s been hiding and lets her choose. As soon as she has, he rushes out to the hardware store and brings 4 cans of paint, rollers and poles back in a cab. He grins up at Melody, who waits at the door to their unit, as he lugs them up the narrow stairs toward their door. He ignores Rena’s disapproving look. He says it doesn’t matter to him what the old bird thinks. This is their home and they’re going to make it over. This gives Melody the impression that the boathouse is a magical place where her life is going to change. She feels certain. On their first night in the boathouse, Jason throws their mattress down on the living room floor (he’s got the bedroom cluttered with his new painting paraphernalia) and takes Melody’s hand. He leads her through the obstacle course of boxes and stereo components and falls backward onto the mattress, pulling her down over him. His fingers wind through her curls and he brings her face down to his, holding her there while he kisses her seriously. She responds by opening her mouth to his and letting a soft moan spill out when he pushes her tshirt up above her breasts. When she feels him get hard underneath the zip of his jeans, she thinks “he is the man of the house”. *** When Melody wakes up, it’s barely light. Gray light puddles in the corners of the living room and she feels disoriented and panicked. She clutches Jason’s back and smells the strange smell of a house that isn’t hers. *** Molly is too fat for a small dog and she smells bad. When Jason visits Rena at the end of the month to deliver their rent, she invites him inside and he has to pet Molly. He comes back and washes his hands immediately. They pay their rent in cash because that’s how Rena prefers it done. To manage this, Melody has to carry 736 dollars from the bank on the streetcar. She is worried about the risk involved in doing this, but Jason assures her it’s the only way Rena will accept payment. Melody has to accept this rule since she never speaks to Rena, only Jason does and Jason refuses to negotiate with the old woman. He laughs when he tells Melody that Rena calls him “Ivan” and that he doesn’t correct her. This is where Melody gets the idea that Rena’s husband was named Ivan. She suspects Rena of being secretly in love with Jason, mistaking him for her young husband. She tells Jason that it’s cruel not to tell her she’s got his name wrong. He just presses her bum with his hand and says, “what do you care?” *** Melody begins to worry that Rena doesn’t like her. When they’ve been there 4 months or more, she realizes that Rena has never said hello to her. The few times Melody has knocked on Rena’s door, usually to report an issue with the gas or screen door, Rena doesn’t answer but Melody can hear her slippers shuffling inside. She wants Rena to like her, though she can’t say why. In an effort to make herself more “wifely” which she suspects is the gauge by which Rena decides a woman’s merits, Melody starts cooking proper meals. Jason is rarely home to eat with her, but she knows that the smell of cookery will waft down the first floor and signal to Rena that she is behaving appropriately. Often, while cooking these balanced meals, Melody gets sad and can’t help but feel lonely. She should have a family to cook for, she thinks to herself, though she’s never wanted one before. She should at least have a husband. Her ring finger is long and tanned. *** It’s a cool, sunny afternoon in the Fall. Jason and Melody are sitting on the roof sharing a glass of wine because they’ve broken all their other wine glasses but they don’t want to drink out of a tumbler. She presses her big toe into the gutter and leans back on her hands, wondering why she feels angry with Jason. She sometimes wants to shove him. Not off the roof, but just in general. She feels like he’s not playing his part. “Do you think you might be able to fix the toilet sometime this century?” she asks him out of the blue. “It runs all the time and I can’t sleep. I keep getting up to pee.” He shrugs and passes her the glass, “I guess, sometime.” “When?” she presses. “I don’t know, Mel. When I get a chance to get to the hardware store, okay?” She sips the wine, evaluating his profile. He’s not looking at her. She doesn’t know why she’s getting riled up, but she can’t stop herself. Something is pooling inside her throat and feels like she’ll drown if she doesn’t cough it up. “Is there something wrong with us?” she whispers. “Who?” he says. Melody thinks a moment and replies, “Me, I guess. Is there something wrong with me? It’s been, like, 5 years.” “What are you talking about?” “We’re barely a couple.” He turns away from her, just slightly, almost so you can say he’s done it, and he says. “We live together. What’s barely about that?” he uses his funny/exasperated face but she can tell this conversation is walking a dangerous line. She presses on. “So what, we live together. That’s hardly an expression of profound love. Or is it? Is this the biggest expression I should expect?” Jason is silent. He doesn’t want to be having this conversation, it’s clear from his posture. He’s pulled his feet up underneath him and he’s hugging his knees, looking off to the street below. *** In December, just before the Christmas holidays, Melody sleeps with someone at her work. She likes it, if not him, and they have a quiet lunch-hour affair for several weeks. She has dreams during this time that she is swimming but that her ankles are caught in some kind of seaweed. She can’t get loose. 6 months later, she tells Jason about the affair. She isn’t sure what she’s expecting. He regards her silently and then tells her in a low, sorry voice that she should leave. The seaweed loosens finally. She bobs to the surface and floats.
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