and so many gifts. You must be proud of her, Danny.
– Thank you, Stacy. I am, – he answered.
– Dan, may I ask you? – Nick was staring at the wooden bench at the porch.
– Noy’es-yes’no, – Daniel joked pronouncing the words together.
– When did my mom give you that legendary swinging bench from her backyard? When did she do this, I wonder? – Nick laughed loudly.
– I don’t remember. Two years ago to repair it. – Dan was confused.
– And do you remember how we, little silly boys, counted the used condoms forgotten by guests under the swinging benches in my mom’s backyard after her nonstop parties? Do you remember how the gardener caught us? And we were afraid of punishment and scared because Diane could know about our dirty boyish tricks.
– Of course, I do. – Dan laughed and his cheeks blushed.
He looked at me with childish fright in his eyes.
– Ha-ha-ha. Oh, this is my mom. She is a great joker. – Nick added. – She, definitely, knows use in presents.
– Yea. And that is really Diane’s bench. Do you want to take it back, Nicky? Wanna count the used condoms under it again, boy? – Dan asked Nick and burst out laughing.
– Of course he does! He dreams about it. – Stacy answered instead of her husband and in turn added. – Vika, Diane definitely should see your splendid flowers. The garden looks fantastic and very chic. I love it.
– Thank you, Stacy. I appreciate it.
– Well done, Vika! – Nick exclaimed.
– Thank you, Nick.
– No more clutter! – Stacy and Nick pronounced almost at the same time and looked at each other astonishingly.
Pretty Stacy started to flirt with her shining husband.
The very next moment the recent picture of Dan’s neglected front yard arose in front of my eyes.
Just a few months before, it was impossible to see either the porch of the house, or the patio, or the walkway. They were literally clustered with old broken chairs, shelves, little tables and other junk. They were cluttered up with great number of dried, alive and half-alive plants in half-broken ceramic pots, rusty buckets and dirty boxes.
– Dan, you have a lot of things, and nobody touched them for ages, right? – I wondered when I saw my fiancé’s “lovely” front garden the first time.
– I let it go, my honey, for so long because the front yard was never dirty, just very full, – he answered. – While living alone for so many years, I found myself just surrounded by things, and now I start feeling myself uncomfortable when I listen to your comments.
– Psychotherapists say that our environment is a physical manifestation of how we feel. And, the other way around, clutter creates chaos in our brain, which undermines our ability to function.
– What magazines do you read, Vika? Do you believe in that nonsense? – Dan asked me nervously.
– That is not nonsense, Danny.
– Please, stop. I do not wish to argue with you, sweetie. Tomorrow I’ll call a local professional organizer and hire a gardener. No problem anymore.
– You do not need to hire anyone. This is your house, and we can clear it out by ourselves.
– I have no time; I’m so busy at my mom’s house. She is so boring with her endless requests and commands to do this or that, to repair the roof or fix the gate lock. I’m fucking tired. Sorry.
– I want to help you, Danny. I have enough time and Slava can help. We’ll do it.
– Okay, my dear. Thank you. You know, people said recently, “Dan, your house needs a woman’s touch. Your house should be repaired, painted and blah-blah-blah… You should do this or that…” And I know it is getting bad when the neighbors and friends begin commenting. So, OK. Do it, Vika! Help me, please, and we’ll see then.
Several months in a row, from the early morning till late evening, Eagle and I were cleaning the area and taking away all the junk from the porch and front yard. We planted new flowers; replanted few nearly dead trees, repotted bushes and organized everything there. Front yard is a face of the house where you live, isn’t it? And for me it was pleasant to see such a big transformation in a short period of time.
The neighbors were greatly surprised by my and Eagle’s ability to work so hard, quickly and effectively. They couldn’t understand only one thing: Why everything was done by me and my son without any noticeable assistance from Dan?
– You are so hard-working girl! You work too much for your husband. Let him hire a gardener. His mom has her own gardener. Before your arrival the gardener came to Dan’s house and worked there occasionally. And Daniel has never done anything in his front yard. He used to sit in the porch behind the trees and bushes till late evenings and drank wine. He was sure that nobody could see him, – neighbors told me.
I recollected one of dreamy e-mails from Dan,
“Sometimes I allow myself to have a glass of excellent Californian red wine after having a hard-working day in my garden. I turn on my stereo in the living-room and sit down into the soft deep armchair at the porch in the shadow of my favorite trees and bushes. I listen to the music, sip the wine, take pictures of the clouds and admire the sunset. It gives me a lot of energy for the next day. The neighbors passing by my home never see me”.
– Vika, does your husband pay you for your work in his garden? – One of the most curious neighbors asked me and got me unawares. – In the US everyone pays for everything. If you work for your husband, he should pay. Probably, you do not know this, but take it into consideration. Nothing is free in America. You are so great. We worry about you.
– Thank you, I really had no thoughts of the possibility of compensation or payment for helping my husband. We are the family, one team.
– Oh, dear Vika! You are working again, aren’t you? You are working too much. By the way, for painting the fence your husband must pay you double. It’s hazardous job, you can damage your health. – The other kind neighbors worried about me too. – Take care, baby!
I constantly got advice from random Americans, our neighbors and other people, almost perfect strangers to me, who lived nearby and always said respectful “Hi”, when they saw me in the front garden. Their recommendations seemed to me a little strange that time.
I listened to my hubby, but not to them, and Dan gave me different advice.
– I bought the most expensive fence paint for you, dear. It’s not so harmful, but please, be thriftier when using it, OK? – And he divided the content of the big canister into two parts. – I hope, it’ll be enough for several days. I’ll
