Fuzzy Logic (17 page)

Jan dropped Michael off at his house, which was a cute bungalow located two blocks from the beach in Del Mar. Before he went inside, they exchanged phone numbers, so they could coordinate what they now referred to as The Great Sandini project.

After a stop by the mall for shorts and t-shirts, Jan went to work trying to find a cleaning company that would work on a large, sandy project on short notice. Her mother would be looking for any excuse to escape this marriage. The current state of the house was something Jan could actually do something about and she was determined to make sure it was clean by the time she returned to Alpine Grove.

The following day at Bruce’s house, Jan met Michael as well as Evette, of The Maison Maid. Evette was a stout gray-haired woman wearing a classic black-and-white French maid’s uniform that looked decidedly uncomfortable.

“Evette, thank you for coming today,” Michael said. “This is my father Bruce. It’s his house.”

Evette waved her hand toward her vacuum cleaner, “Monsieur, I can tell you are not familiar with the exciting world of vacuums. I am thinking yours must be an inferior model. But this machine I have here is the finest machine. It uses a water-filter system to keep the particles out of the air.”

Jan bent to look at the famous vacuum. “Is running sand through this going to be a problem?”

Evette shook her head. “Nonsense. It will work on the most difficult dirt. Wet dirt cannot fly! It will even pick up sand, which can ruin your carpet, you know. The sharp edges of the petite crystals cut the carpet fibers, so when you run the vacuum across it, you are picking up pieces of the rug instead. That is why you have a worn traffic area. It is because that is where the carpet is now missing! My machine is one that picks up sand. So you will not have to buy new carpet! I can give you more information, since I also sell this fine machine. I love to show it off.”

Michael looked at Jan, then back at Evette. “Thanks Evette, but I think we’ll see how this goes first. New carpet wouldn’t be such a bad thing. The green shag is looking a little tired.”

“Hey, I bought that carpet!” Bruce said. “It was expensive.”

“In 1979,” Michael said. “Why don’t you take off, Dad? Aren’t you meeting Joey and Dave at the cafe?”

Bruce nodded. “Okay. Fine. I’ll leave you to it. Make sure nothing happens here.”

Michael patted his father on the back, “No worries, Dad. We’ve got it covered.”

Jan turned to Evette. “Where would you like to start?”

Evette swiveled her head, looking around the living room. “I think here would be good.”

“Okay. Michael and I are going to deal with the kitchen, then.”

Michael raised his eyebrows. “We are?”

“Yes. We are.”

Evette started unpacking a wide range of complicated vacuum attachments from a case, and Michael followed Jan into the kitchen. Jan pointed at the stove. “So I’m curious. How many kitchen fires have happened in here?”

Michael peered at the blackened stove hood. “I lost count.”

“My mother isn’t good with fire, either. Maybe we should give them a six-pack of smoke alarms as a belated wedding present.”

“Good idea. I’d be happy to go off to the hardware store and get some.”

“Nice try,” Jan said. “See that green stuff on the wall and the ceiling? That’s your first project.”

Michael leaned toward the wall to examine the offending green spots. “I think this dates from Dad’s kale smoothie phase. He had blender issues.”

Jan stood on tiptoe to get a closer look. “I’m guessing the brown spots are peanut butter?”

“Yeah, that was the protein shake era. Maybe late 80s?”

“That’s disgusting. It’s all yours.”

Michael turned his palms upward. “Why me? What are you doing?”

Jan opened the cabinet under the sink and pointed at the dark space. “This. I don’t know what that yellow slime is under there, but I bought industrial-strength rubber gloves especially to deal with it.”

“I think Mr. Clean is rolling over in his grave.”

“Mr. Clean is not dead,” Jan said. “He’s concentrated. Now he’s Ultra Mr. Clean. Did you know that his first name is Veritably?”

Michael paused in his vigorous wall-scrubbing. “Oh come on. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“In the sixties, there was a contest to give him a first name.”

“They had a contest to name the bald guy?”

Jan smiled, sat back on her heels, and wiped her forehead with her wrist. “I don’t make these things up. Truth is stranger than fiction.”

A screeching noise came from the living room. Evette shouted, “
Merde
!
Mon Dieu
!” and then a long string of unintelligible French phrases.

Michael dropped his sponge into the bucket and looked at Jan. “That didn’t sound good.”

They both went into the living room and found Evette crouched over her vacuum cleaner, looking distressed. “I think there was a sand dune here in the living room. And it has hurt the motor of my fine machine. I must go take it to the shop and have it fixed
tout de suite
!”

“What about cleaning the rest of the house?” Jan asked. The sand level appeared to be unchanged.

Evette stood up and put her fists at her sides. “I cannot risk any further damage to the machine! This is
très horrible
!”

Jan looked down at the machine, which was apparently no longer fine. “I’m sorry. You said you could do it and the machine was up to the task.”

Without another word, Evette gathered up her many implements and left, slamming the door behind her.

Michael turned to Jan. “That went well. Now what?”

Jan bent down to examine the edge of the carpet. “I think your Dad used a staple gun to put down this carpet. It’s coming up here at the edge.”

“Dad has never been much for home improvement.” Crouching next to Jan, Michael grabbed the edge of the carpet with both hands and yanked upward. A flurry of dust and sand flew into the air when the carpet released from the floor. Michael dropped the carpet as they both started coughing.

Pausing to gasp for air, Jan bent over and peered at the floor underneath the carpet. “Look at that! There are wood floors under there.”

Michael crouched down again. “I think it’s quarter-sawn hardwood. Wow. I forgot that’s what the floors used to look like before the shag arrived.”

Jan turned to him. “Those floors are gorgeous and this carpet has gotta go. Evette and her fine machine have proven that the green shag won’t ever get clean, so there’s no great loss. Start pulling.”

“I think my dad is going to consider this messing with his stuff.”

“But my mom loves hardwood floors.”

Michael shrugged. “Okay. But only if it means I don’t have to clean peanut butter off the ceiling anymore.”

“Fine. I’ll deal with the kitchen. Apparently choosy dads choose Jif, too.”

Michael laughed as he ripped up another section of carpet. “Apparently.”

A few hours later, Jan walked into Michael’s old bedroom and held up her hands at him. Each finger had a plastic tape dispenser looped on it. “How many rolls of tape does one man need?”

Michael shook his head and pointed to the large black garbage bag in front of him. “Chuck the dead ones. Tape that doesn’t stick anymore has gone beyond its useful lifespan.”

“Judging from the packaging, I’d say cellophane tape lasts about ten years. That’s good to know. It looks like you’re making progress in here.” He was sitting on the floor surrounded by piles of yellowing papers. The soles of his bare feet were sandy and blackened with dirt.

“Yeah, when I moved out, Dad just pretty much just closed the door to this room,” Michael said, picking up a book and moving off the floor to sit on the bed. “Here’s the book I was reading. It was still sitting on this shelf next to my bed.”

Jan leaned over him to look at the cover. “
The Two Towers
? Tolkien?”

“Yeah, I could never get through it, although I tried for almost a year. I set it aside and put it on that shelf. And there it has stayed.”

“So you never found out how the
Lord of the Rings
ends? That’s sad.” How could anyone not finish a book?

“I was okay with it. No book should be that boring.”

Jan sat down heavily on the bed next to him, holding her dusting rag in her lap. “I appreciate you taking off work to deal with this mess. It’s a lot easier with both of us, since you know more about your dad’s important stuff than I do.”

“It’s okay. Something is going on at the agency. They told everyone to take a couple of days off because there’s some type of audit. I haven’t taken a vacation in a long time. It feels strange to
not
be at the office.” He smiled at her. “Not that this feels like a vacation, by the way.”

Jan chuckled. “Oh come on. There’s a lot of nostalgia here.”

“Yeah, it’s just one big trip down amnesia lane.”

“Wow, quoting
Dead Poets Society
? With Robin Williams and Robert Sean Leonard? I loved that movie.”

Michael turned and looked into Jan’s eyes. “It amazes me how you get every pop-culture reference. I have never met anyone like you.”

Jan giggled nervously. “I know. I’m unusual.” The gold flecks in his brown eyes glinted in the afternoon sun streaming in through the window.

He leaned over and kissed her on the lips. A jolt of surprise and desire shot through Jan’s body. She had kissed Steve countless times, but the feel of Michael’s lips on hers wasn’t like anything she’d ever experienced. Shouldn’t she feel guilty? This was wrong for so many reasons. Yet she placed her hands on his broad shoulders, closed her eyes, and reveled in the sensations anyway.

Michael pulled away first and they stared at each other for a long second. “Well, that certainly wasn’t a chaste sisterly kiss.”

“You started it.” And he was really good at it.

“I suppose I did,” Michael laughed. “But now who sounds like a ten-year old?” He stood up and the book fell off the bed onto the floor. As he put the book back on the shelf, he said. “I guess we should get back to work.”

Several hours of cleaning later, Jan collapsed on the living room sofa. “I’m done. I can’t clean anything else. Or move.”

“Just one more thing,” Michael said. “We need to move the shag carpet out of the front yard. Dad may be a slob, but he does have a few standards.”

Jan groaned as she levered herself up off the couch. “All right. But that’s it.”

“Hey, I think we really deserve a treat after this long sandy day of grime. How about I take you out to dinner tonight? There’s a great Indian restaurant not too far from here.”

Jan looked down at herself. “I’d need to go back to my mom’s place and shower and change. I can’t let anyone see me looking like this.”

“I suppose you have looked better,” Michael said, looking at her appraisingly. “Maybe we can do that another time and just get a pizza instead. That might be easier.”

“Yes. Pizza.” Jan closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the sofa. “Mmm. Pizza.”

“Let’s move the carpet. Then I’ll call in the pizza, go get Swoosie, pick it up, and come back here. It would be good if you could stay here in case my dad comes back. He may freak out when he sees that the carpet is gone.”

“That would be an awkward conversation, particularly since I barely know him. You need to hurry back, so I don’t have to go through that explanation. But I suppose maybe he won’t notice, either.”

“Believe me, he’s going to notice. Come on, get up.”

“Fine,” Jan said as she used both hands to push her body up off the sofa. “Let’s get this over with.”

Later, Jan and Michael were eating pizza at the newly cleared-off dining room table. Swoosie was resting her muzzle on Michael’s thigh, supervising the consumption and hoping for a handout. He slipped her a small piece of crust. The dog wagged her tail as she snuffled it down.

They all looked up from the meal when Bruce walked in the door. Swoosie ran over to Bruce to say hello. Bruce looked around in confusion as he stooped down to pet the dog. “What happened?”

Michael stood up. “Hi Dad. We cleaned.” He waved his arm toward the room. “It looks better. And it even smells better.”

“What did you do?”

Jan stood up and walked around the table next to Michael. “The cleaning lady broke her vacuum, so we had to clean everything ourselves.”

Bruce looked down at his feet. “What happened to the floor?”

Michael walked over to his father. “After it killed Evette’s vacuum, we took a closer look at the carpet and we determined it couldn’t be saved. It’s next to the garbage cans in the back yard.”

“My mom loves hardwood floors.” Jan said. “And look, they are beautiful. Wood floors like these are hard to find. It might be made from the type of old-growth timber that you don’t see anymore. Look at the gorgeous grain.”

“I can help you refinish the floor if you want, Dad,” Michael said. “It will be great.”

Bruce sat down on the sofa. “Your mother picked out that carpet. She loved that green. It wasn’t too long before she got sick.”

Michael sat down next to his father and put his arm around him. “I know, Dad. But the carpet was so full of sand, we couldn’t get it out. Ripping it up wasn’t much fun, either. I have sand in crevices I’d rather not talk about. It’s like I went surfing and had a really bad wipe out.”