We are officially wrapping up Home Repairs! Though, in my defense, it’s more like two related two-parters than a four-part story, but in any event here’s how Norman and George figure out how to get along…
“Who are you?” the man in overalls asked.
“I’m… I’m George,” George hadn’t spoken in so long… he didn’t remember the sound of his own voice at first. “W-who are you?”
“Norman. What are you doing in my house?”
“Your house? What are you doing in my house?”
“Wait…” Norman started, “You’re… you’re like me…”
George looked Norman up and down and laughed, “I mean… I’d like to think my fashion sense is a little more refined than flannel and overalls, but, I mean, you do you… Norman, was it?”
Norman shook his head, “No, that’s not what I meant. We’re both… I mean, we are…”
“Ghosts?”
The word hit Norman like a slap. He looked away and said the word quietly, almost to himself. “Ghosts…”
Noticing Norman’s reaction, George stepped closer. “Whoa, wait, you didn’t know you were a ghost?”
“No, yes… I mean… what have you done to my house?”
“I haven’t done anything to this…” George’s eyes got wide, “Wait, the wall – were you in that wall this whole time?” He jumped back and pointed. “Oh my god, that was you!”
Had he come from the wall? Norman just knew it was dark, he was asleep and now he wasn’t… What was the last thing he remembered? Back against the wall, his house shrinking… His head was spinning… how did this happen? What had happened to his house…
“You were in the wall… and the workers… And now you’re here!” George went on.
Norman just heard noise. He put his hands over his ears to block out the din…
“Can I call you Wall-ee? Get it, because you were in the wall?”
“SHUT UP!” Norman roared. He wasn’t angry… he just wanted the noise to stop, to get a chance to figure out what the heck was going on. “Get. Out. Of. Here,” he said slowly and evenly.
“Geez, you’re pretty cranky for a guy who’s been stuck in a wall…”
“OUT!”
“Alright, chill…” And George mumbled to himself as he climbed the stairs. “Cranky ghost doesn’t know he’s a ghost…”
Norman was breathing hard from his outburst… but, breathing? He didn’t need to – oh, no… That’s what he was! And this house? What had happened to his house… he needed to think, to figure this out… He moved back to the kitchen – ignoring the fact that he walked right through a wall to get there – and looked at the breakfast table with its neat chairs around it.
“No, this is wrong… this is all wrong…” Norman shoved a chair away, then two, then the table. Finally there was just one chair left… he pushed it against the wall – his wall. HIS. WALL. He sat heavily on the chair and tried to make sense of everything.
That’s when the couple crept into the kitchen.
“That isn’t George,” the man said.
Ugh! Not that George again, Norman thought and turned the kitchen lights off.
“Can I come down now?” George yelled downstairs.
“No,” came the terse reply.
“Geez, what’s with this guy? Mr. Grumpy Ghost…” he said to himself as he opened the cabinets and drawers in the master bathroom.
Downstairs, Norman wandered the hallway of his house. He had mostly accepted he was a ghost, but his feet tread the hallways of his house that he knew, that he watched the family grow up in – he knew the layout like the back of his… he looked at his hand. It seemed solid to him. How could he be a ghost?
He stepped through a wall and right through Erin coming down the stairs. He didn’t even notice her little involuntary yelp of fear as she steadied herself with both hands tight on the railing. The breaking of China didn’t register as he paced into the family room – or the family room as he knew it.
From the landing upstairs, George watched Erin push the China cabinet a few feet over to keep Norman from walking through it. In the foyer she had set up a folding table and had big sheets of paper unrolled over it. From his vantage he figured out that she was looking at two houses and comparing – oh! She was comparing the old house – which must be George’s house – to this house… Which is why George doesn’t come up here, because the second story didn’t exist in his house. “I guess it’s good Norman wasn’t big into roof repair,” he smiled to himself.
It was after dark when George decided he’d had enough of being sequestered and he walked down the stairs, stopping before the last few steps as he heard Norman’s mumbling to himself as he appeared through the wall, passed through the bottom stairs.
“I’m a ghost. This is my house. My house. Ghost. My house. What am I? What is my house? My house is a ghost. I am a ghost…”
Norman continued into the dining room in his constant loop.
“Oh boy…” George said as he moved down the remaining steps and walked into the kitchen.
He waited patiently as the man in the overalls continued mumbling and pacing. When Norman’s route brought him back into the kitchen, George spoke: “Dude!”
Norman stopped and looked at him, confused. “What?”
“I said, dude. As in, ‘Dude, you have got to get a hold of yourself.’”
“I… I’m fine,” Norman didn’t start walking again, but he folded his hands nervously.
George sighed. “Here,” he moved a chair against Norman’s wall. “Have a seat,” he said, taking a seat nearby.
Norman absently placed his hand on the wall as he kept his eyes on George and slowly lowered himself into the chair.
“Good,” George said. “Look, buddy, we need to talk. You’re not right.”
“I’m… I’m fine,” Norman stammered. Then more resolutely, “I’m fine.”
“Yeah… no.” George shook his head. “Look, I’m sorry about springing that whole ‘you’re a ghost’ thing on you. I can see how that, combined with springing out of a wall after… geez, how long were you in there?” He saw Norman draw in a frantic breath, “No, no, no, Norman – it doesn’t matter. Time doesn’t matter, am I right?”
Norman opened his mouth to say something, then thought about it and closed his mouth. He thought about the family growing up and how part of him knew they were aging, so time was passing, but he couldn’t distinguish a day from a week from ten years.
“Okay, okay, you’re getting it,” George smiled. “This house,” he gestured to the house at large, “And this house,” he tapped Norman’s wall, “Are the same house.”
“No, no, that’s not right,” Norman started quickly. “My house…”
“Is still here,” George cut him off. “And it’s not. Look, you knew people in your house, yeah?”
Norman thought about pulling faces for babies. He thought about newlyweds. He nodded.
“And they left, didn’t they?” George said softly.
Norman’s gaze slowly rose to meet George’s. He nodded slowly.
“But they’re still here, right?” George tapped his chest.
Norman smiled and nodded again.
“They’re not here, but they’re here. Your house isn’t here,” he leaned forward, “But it’s right here.”
Norman looked around the house seeing the white cabinets, the induction stove, the flat screen TV mounted on the wall, the enormous stainless steel double-door refrigerator. He closed his eyes and saw a pale yellow refrigerator and matching pale yellow coil stove and casseroles…
George watched the memories cross Norman’s face. “You don’t have to leave them behind. There was a little girl I had tea parties with. She and her family left… but I had tea parties! I have tea parties.”
Norman looked at him for a long moment. “Can… can we have a tea party?”
George nodded vigorously. “Yeah, yeah, we can.” He stood up and moved towards the cabinets. “Oh, there’s this thing with the cabinets I have to show you – the woman loves it when I do this…”
