It came up in conversation once again, his dream of having a house. I wasn’t sure why it was so important. Maybe just the concept of having something that was yours, a place you can call your own, not having to answer to anyone. Maybe it was more than that. These plans had been mentioned spontaneously a handful of times and I felt like diving in. There was something about lying across his chest that made me bold and every word he spoke seem honest.
“Where would you live?” I queried, “Would you live around here?” Living off Westpark meant seeing each other once a week. Moving to Tomball or Spring would mean once every other week or so, maybe.
“Hmm I’ve never actually thought about it. Maybe Katy, I like Katy.” Katy? I imagined lanes of stagnant suburbia lined with identical postboxes, garden shrubs, with Teslas parked in every driveway speckled by the occasional mid-life-crisis vintage Camaro. People wave at each other and flash their porcelain veneers saying things like, “Beautiful day out,” while walking their severely inbred designer dogs. I boiled this concept down to, “Katy is full of white people. Might be a bit stuffy.”
“True, but I’ve already gotten used to you so I figured it would be alright.”
While I grinned at the idea, I couldn’t help but get hung up on used to you. As if my heritage caused me to live by my own code that seemed odd and foreign to everyone on the outside. As much as I’d like to think we weren’t so different, or that maybe it didn’t matter, in that moment I was becoming aware of it.
I changed the subject to, “What kind of house do you want?” A scanty shack? Three bedroom house with a pool and a basketball goal? A mansion in West University?
“A house with a roof. A roof would be nice.”
Half of our conversations were pure nonsense, but luckily I was fluent. “That’s important,” I said, “Because of all the roofless houses around here. That really narrows it down.”
“Yes a roof is essential. And it needs to have walls.”
“Ah yes. Keep people in, keep people out.”
“And doors.”
“You could have a gate lock with your thumbprint.”
“No, that’s a little beyond my price range,” he sighed, “A regular door will be fine. And I need a floor. Have to keep everything up to code.”
“My… well you have some pretty steep criteria but I think you have a solid plan. I think we’re ready to get you pre-approved. We should talk to a realtor and let them know your list of demands. I'm sure they would get a kick out of it.” He flashed a smile and I could only imagine this scenario playing out in my mind. They would never see him coming.
Photo Credit: Toa Heftiba
