Status update: So tired I’m possibly dying. And it’s only Thursday.
I stand in the bathroom with my hands on my hips and look at the wall. I’ve never intentionally demolished a room before. “Ben, can you give me an outline on what I’m supposed to do?”
The strangest words trigger me back to the Underswears photo shoot. Like outline.
Ben’s the one I can trust to give me advice that won’t result in my fucking something up. Alex only knows how to carry heavy things and laugh at jokes. Colin’s still on my shit list and I am almost certain he’s Jamie’s mole. I’ve been feeding him bogus information in an attempt to flush him out.
“Getting the tiles off the walls would be a good start. Use . . . this.” I try not to look at Ben’s shiny dome while he rummages in a box of tools. He gives me a short crowbar. “Carefully, now. It’s easy to put a hole in the wall if you just start smashing.”
He toes an empty cardboard box over to me. “They’ll be sharp. Wear goggles, too. There’s a bin outside, but Alex will do the lifting. Then after that, take up the floor tiles.”
“Fine. Thanks.” Having a clearly defined task is like heaven. I knot my baggy tank at my hip and pull my jeans up a little. Gloves on. I put the goggles on the top of my head.
Tom passes the door and halts. We make eye contact, then he looks at the crowbar in my hand. His eyelids flutter and his body misses a step, like he’s just seen something he can’t bear. Do I look ridiculous? Is he imagining me hurting myself?
Actually, I remember what he got like when I talked to him about architraves. I swing the crowbar. “Is this a look that works for you?”
He swallows and nods. “Ah, yeah.”
From up his ladder, Colin shakes his head at us wearily. We never learn.
By now, this same little loop is becoming ingrained: Tom walks past and gets distracted by me, and something in another part of the house fucks up. I am a human curse.
I jerk my thumb. “Keep walking.” He does, looking flustered.
Colin says, “I don’t think he expects you to actually demo.”
“I think I’ve explained several times that I am part of the crew, right?” I wipe sweat from my brow with my forearm. I’ve had to accept that I am forever glistening. “Did you get your tax details to Tom?”
Colin sulks. “Not yet.”
“Oh really, Mr. Paperwork?” It’s on the tip of my tongue to order him to get them in by five. But I won’t. I’ll stay behind the line that Tom drew for me.
I can’t help but notice that Colin looks kind of cool, standing up there against the white wall background. I pick up my camera and take a quick shot. I frown at the screen. I can do better than that.
I adjust the settings, reframe, and the second shot is a lot better. Like, a lot. “How’d you like to be my muse?” I ask Colin. He doesn’t bother acknowledging my existence.
I put the camera aside. Two pictures of a human face among the shots of electrical outlets and cracked skirting boards. Tom might be proud of me for that. How weird that it’s awful old Colin that’s inspired me.
I press my palm against the first tile in the row. It feels completely sacrilegious, but I put the edge of the crowbar on the top of the tile and it just . . . pops off. I’m too slow to catch it and it shatters at my feet.
Tom’s head almost instantly appears at the doorjamb.
“Be careful.” He’s regretting this big-time. “Yeah, wait,” he says to someone else. It’s an impressive juggling act: supervising an entire worksite, and personally supervising my every move.
“I’m fine.” I pop off more tiles into my palm and drop them into a cardboard box. “I’m one of the guys now, right?” I say to Colin, who laughs without humor and says sure. “Bye, Tom. See you later.”
He gets my unsubtle hint and walks off again.
The impromptu Underswears shoot ruined the little candy-hug truce we’d just achieved. When I walked Truly out to her car, there were crews of guys hand-carrying wood down the side of the house, Colin had his arms crossed, and Tom was furious. He’d admitted his participation was voluntary, and had promised to not blame me for it, but it feels an awful lot like another strike against me.
I tried to help carry timber too, but the moment I bent down, he was bumping me back like I’d strayed too close to a cliff.
He’s starting to be more Valeska than man.
It’s got to be the stress that’s turning him into an animal. If I talk to one of the delivery guys? He’s coming up the front path with a snarl on his lip. If I make a spare sandwich for bozo Alex, who’s so far forgotten lunch every single day? Tom’s leaning on the bench, jealous eyes on my profile until I pull out the cheese and lettuce.
The guys on the crew are starting to walk sideways around me. I’m starting to feel like a land mine. If Tom touches me again I’m probably just going to explode on him. Hence my permanent fever sweat.
To the bathroom crew, I say, “I’ve known Tom since we were eight. But some days I wonder if he’ll ever speak to me again after this.”
“Renovations are very stressful,” Ben says diplomatically. “And so is starting your own business. Aldo has been making things difficult for Tom, especially getting staff.”
“He didn’t tell me that.” I wonder what else he’s lying awake over.
“Payroll. Insurance. Workers’ safety. Subcontractors. Contracts,” Colin drones from up on his perch. He snaps his fingers at me, and I know that means to hand up his cordless drill. I’m only slightly above Alex in the pecking order.
“I don’t respond to that.” I click my fingers back at him. “Use your words.”
“Site security. Suppliers. Rental equipment. Invoicing. Budget.” Colin gives me a very meaningful look and finishes with, “Client management. Pass me that drill.”
I hand it up. “You’ve made your point. He’s got it all handled.”
“I don’t think so. He’s very distracted,” Colin says in between annoying drill buzzes. He hands down a vent to me, getting gray dust in my hair. “Trash.”
Feeling mildly persecuted, I toss the vent in Alex’s box. “I want to argue with you that he’s got everything handled, but I’ve recently been advised that it’s none of my business.” I return to my tiles, unsettled. Tom sat on the back step last night with his head in his hands. As soon as he heard my approaching footfalls, he’d smoothed everything back into that competent façade.
Is it the renovation, or Megan, that is tormenting him?
I find my rhythm again. Pop, smash. Pop, smash. I’m getting handy with my crowbar. I should give Alex a break on the trash task.
I bend down and lift the box, and my heart decides to shit its pants.
It feels like a rush of palpitations that seem to bubble upward, into my throat, graying my vision. I lean my shoulder on the wall. Okay, that does it. I think I need to go in for a quick review of the old heart situation, but Jamie always comes with me. I’m still little-kid Darcy, too scared to go to one big-girl appointment on her own.
It’s weird. I haven’t gotten used to Loretta’s absence in my life, because she feels so close I half expect to look out the window and see her bossing someone around.
Sometimes it feels like Jamie’s the one who died, because the void just keeps getting bigger. And my heart beats more lopsidedly than ever.
“Alex does the lifting. Are you okay?” Ben is at my side. “Should we get Tom? He told us to let him know if you weren’t feeling good.”
“Did he now.” I straighten up and my hand is on my hip in an instant. Through my teeth and the pricking tears in my eyes, I rattle out, “I’m just taking a break. Ignore him.”
“Ignore him?” Alex echoes from the doorway. “You don’t ignore the boss.” He crowds in, too.
“Just breathe nice and deep,” Colin says, frowning at Alex in a shut up sort of way. He’s concerned enough that he climbs down his ladder, every movement evidently painful and arthritic. I must look like I’m dying. “Should you sit down?”
I shake my head. “There’s nothing wrong with me.” I’ll be damned if I bond with this old codger over our mutual ailments. He shuffles off like a bloodhound, his nose on the ground, sniffing out the boss. Or worse, finding a quiet spot to call my brother with the latest intel.
“Head spin? I get those.” Alex can always be counted on to blithely gloss over whatever’s going on. I like that about him. “Especially if I’m hungover,” he adds with a little bit of a brag in his voice.
I sympathize with this young kid. He’s already complained to me about how boring his nights are, stuck in his cheap motel room in between Oldy and Baldy.
I think of the boost I got when Tom said the crew missed me. Things are fun with me here. Alex is the youth demographic I need to align myself with.
“Hey, tomorrow night, get everyone to come down to the bar I work at. We’ll have a little first-week celebration. I’ll give you all cheap drinks. You’ll have to show me your ID.”
Alex brightens. “That sounds awesome. We haven’t done anything like that in ages. Tom works us pretty hard.”
I can see it now, morale lifting and the entire team bonding. Clinking glasses, cheers! “Well, I want you guys to enjoy this project.” Everything steadies up and the moment has passed. I push away from the wall. “But this doesn’t mean I’m in love with you. Everyone’s invited.”
“I know that,” Alex gasps after a second, turning red. “I know that.”
Ben decides to risk his life. “Fairly obvious who she’s in love with.” I pretend to beat him with my crowbar, he pretends to be injured, and now we’re all grinning. I put the radio on and we all fall into rhythms matching the music. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I could do this forever.
They tell me about their last job, a big vacation house on top of a cliff. Tom worked all night to re-sand some floors that weren’t up to his standard. They tell me what I already know: Tom is a tireless perfectionist. I think they’re warning me. I work harder, neater, determined to do this perfectly. I will be faultless.
“You might be able to answer this one,” Alex starts. “What’s with the Chihuahua? We’ve never worked it out.” He goes for my next full box of tiles.
“What do you mean?”
“A guy like that should have a big dog,” Alex says on a grunt as he hoists. “We kind of thought she was Megan’s.”
“A guy like that? Tom was thirteen when he got her, and he didn’t care that he’d get teased for it forever. He picked the rescue dog that loved him best. And I named her myself, years before Tom even met Megan.”
The brag is clear in my voice, but I can’t help it. Wait. That wasn’t bragging. That sounded like ownership.
“Hey.” I take Alex by the sleeve as he steps past me. I glance at Ben and Colin; they’re both preoccupied. In a soft tone, I say, “I’ve met a lot of men, all over the world, and Tom’s the best. Without a doubt, he is the best man. Try to be like him.” Alex nods, absorbing Grandma Darcy’s wisdom.
“A guy like that,” I repeat to myself as I resume work. I want to call Alex back to give him a full sermon on all the reasons that Tom is the example he should aspire to.
Tom did a task briefing with some guys yesterday with Patty sitting between his boots. A guy like that is strong in a way that’s deeper than muscle and bones, because he wears his softness on the outside. I think I met my ideal man when I was eight, and no one else has ever measured up.
“A guy like that.” This time when I lean on the tiles, it’s because I’m thinking about Tom in a way that makes me stop breathing altogether. If he walks past right now and puts his head around the door, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my expression neutral.
I’ve never felt this way before in my life. I don’t know what to do.
I turn back to my task, my face warm. The single pink tile is next in line. I’ll take this one off carefully and keep it as a coaster. Pop. I turn it over, and it has a tarot card beneath the layer of glue.
“What!” I laugh out loud. “Guys, look. My grandma left me something.” Ben and Alex crowd around me like I’ve struck gold.
“What even is it?” Alex is adorably naïve about most things.
“My grandma was a fortune-teller. This is the Strength tarot card.” A woman dressed in white holds open the jaws of a lion. It could be a violent image, but instead it’s nothing but patience and steadiness. It looks like me and Valeska.
“What does it mean?”
I try to remember. She tried to teach me how to read cards, but I was always too busy. Too tired. Too hungover. Too overseas. “I think it means perseverance and courage. But I’ll have to look it up.”
Ben says, “Maybe there are more cards hidden around the house. It’s a sign. Tell everyone to keep an eye out,” he adds to Alex, and the fact that he hasn’t just dismissed it as girly nonsense has me beaming.
I finish the wall tiles by midmorning, and while I do have a few more heart-skip moments, I hold up well. Colin has been watching me like a buzzard waiting for a carcass. I forget to eat my lunch or drink and have no idea what time it is when I pull up the final section of floor tiles and blot my sweaty face into the hem of my tank.
“Wow,” Tom says from the doorway. “Okay.” He looks around the room like he’s never seen it before.
I’m a shaky mess. “I don’t know how long this should have taken me, so I can’t tell if you’re actually impressed.” I’m nervous as his perfect eyes trace over the walls, floors, up my legs, and to my face.
“You did this by yourself?” He’s shocked.
“She’s a machine.” Ben gives me a crooked grin and turns back to his own task.
Tom steps close and assesses me. “You didn’t push it too hard?”
He takes me by the wrist, feeling for my pulse. His other hand scrapes my hair back from my face. I shouldn’t like his brand of fussing. I should step out of his hands. But maybe I should try to wear a little softness on the outside. I lean into his touch.
“I was completely fine.” I see Colin’s lips purse. At least he didn’t snitch. “Tom, look. Loretta left us something.” I show him the tarot tile.
He laughs, and the afternoon sunlight turns the floating dust particles into glitter around us. It turns his eyes to whiskey, and they get me drunk. A guy like this? He’s the only one who’s ever made my stomach flip.
“She always liked to make things interesting.” His arms wrap around me. He squeezes me tight and says above my head, “You did good. I’m so impressed.”
I put my arms around his waist and I breathe in lungfuls of him, my cheek on the pad of his chest and the stud in my nipple pinching in the most pleasurable way. Any second I will screw this up. Better enjoy it while it lasts.
“Where’s my hug, boss?” Alex says as he reappears. Ben and Colin both laugh. Oh my God, what is wrong with me? I’m getting high off this part-of-the-team feeling.
Tom says, “This one gets special privileges. You know that.” When I lean back, I can see Tom’s smiling, too. He releases me and toes at the ancient adhesive marks on the floor. “We’re ahead of schedule in here. Good work, everyone.”
I am so elated I’m surprised I’m not two feet off the ground. Making Tom proud? It’s like snorting a rainbow. It cannot last. “Okay, you’d better leave now.”
“She’s pretty good at this.” Alex picks up my last box of broken tiles. “And she works at a bar. Friday night is going to be lit.” He clomps off.
“What does he mean, Friday?” Tom focuses sharply on my face. “What’s happening then?” Ben and Colin clear out, saying bathroom and water, respectively.
And just like that, my feet are back on the ground, and I’ve fucked up again.
