“You get one. And don’t tell anyone on earth I
let you do this.”
He hefted the sledgehammer and held it out to her.
“You’re serious?”
“Just one. And be careful. Dillon’s already threatened to kill me once today. If you get hurt...”
“I won’t get hurt.”
She took the sledgehammer from him with both hands. When she felt its incredible weight she had even more respect for Chris. This thing was seriously heavy. She had to set it back down on the ground again.
“Here.” Chris put his safety goggles on over her eyes and she adjusted them while he found her a dust mask of her own.
“Okay, any tips?”
“You’re right-handed?”
“Yup.”
“Grip it so your left hand is at the bottom. Right hand near the head.”
Joey placed her hands on the handle just so.
“Hold it tight,” Chris said. “Firm grip.”
“Got it.”
“Now run your right hand down and up the handle again.”
“Chris.”
“Squeeze it a little. Stroke it. Take your time and make friends with it. Maybe put a little lube on it. Or lick it. That helps.”
“Chris.”
“What?”
“I’m going to swing the thing now.”
“Swing away.”
He took a few steps back, then a few more steps back.
Joey lifted the sledgehammer and held it a moment as she shifted back and forth, trying to find the best angle, the best footing, the best grip. Chris said only one so she had to make this one count. While Joey wasn’t a violent person or a particularly angry person, she did wish sometimes she could take a sledgehammer to all the dishonesty, cruelty and wanton stupidity in the world—especially her own. When she lifted the sledgehammer, she didn’t pretend the stone fireplace was Ben’s face. She just pretended it was her life. And like Chris said, she had to make a mess to clean up a mess.
With her back taut, her stomach sucked in and her shoulders squared, Joey hoisted the sledgehammer, took aim and swung it with all her might. She made contact with the edge of the stone mantel and felt a vibration from her hands all the way to her shoulders. The noise was brief and horrible and yet oddly satisfying, especially as more rock crumbled to the tarp on the floor.
She turned around at the sound of Chris slow-clapping.
“Good job,” he said. “I hope you weren’t pretending that rock was me.”
“Never.” She handed him the glasses and the mask. The sledgehammer she laid down onto the floor. “Just...my current disaster zone of a life.”
“Feel better?”
“A little bit actually. Thanks.”