Everything feels perfect when you’re young andstupid.
When we split up, I moved out our apartment and bummed around for a while. I surfed during the day and drank at night. I quit my office job and started picking up day-laborer shifts and my days became more productive as I started to learn that I loved working with myhands.
Everything took off from there. I moved to New York. Got some use out of mydegree.
Kim stompsover.
“Hello? Eli, yougood?”
“Yeah.” I let out a shaky breath. “I’mgood.”
But I am notgood.
I toss my pencil and notebook to the ground and crouch against a stack of lumber and shake a hand through myhair.
I can’t stop thinking aboutCindy.
She was so beautiful. When I walked into the store and didn’t see her at the front desk, I thought I’d missed her. But then I looked toward the back, where Larry’s office is, and something inside me shifted. She wasn’t just my friend’s daughter, and I don’t say “just” as a way to diminish how amazing she’s always been. I mean it as a badge of honor forher.
When her mom died, it was fast. Everything was fast about it. The headaches, the diagnosis, and then everything happened even faster after that. Cindy was strong for her dad and he was strong for her and the two of them bonded together, rallied, and the product of the two of them together is stronger thananything.
When I saw her running toward me like we were the only two people in the world, Ifeltlike we were the only two people in the world. And I swear there was something in her too, something that silently conveyed a message that said she felt what Ifelt.
Fuck. I’m going to have to keep an eagle eye on my workers. When I saw her I was shocked but not surprised. I wasn’t surprised that she was suddenly fucking gorgeous. My shock came from the way it felt like she reached through my chest, grabbed my heart and still hasn’t let it go. I can still feelit.
But there’s work to do. I can always block everything else out and just focus on work and I’ve always been able to, even since high school. Whether it’s the brute force strength of physical labor or unlocking a creative pathway that’s going to lead me to my next design, focus and discipline have served me well where even motivationfails.
But I feel out off sorts now. I try to focus on what Kim’s saying but it feels fruitless. It’s not a question of motivation — I’ve been looking forward to getting to the actual building stage of building this house for months — but I just can’t do this. I can’t keep looking over my shoulder waiting for her to come in. Waiting to monitor my guys and make sure none of them gets tooclose.
She has the kind of sexy, curvy little body that I know guys like these would feel uncomfortable in the presence of, and when men get uncomfortable, they act like fuckingidiots.
I stand up on shaky legs and try like hell to get back to work, but I know I won’t feel right until I can see her again. I check the time. I’m going to be counting down theseconds.
4
Cindy
“You sureyou don’t want to stay?” I askDad.
“No, you go ahead. I’ll come check on you later. I know Eli’s been looking forward to seeing you. You have a lot of catching up todo.”
“Okay.” I lean over to give Dad a kiss on the cheek. “See youlater.”
What is the proper etiquette when it comes to entering a house that doesn’t have a door yet? What do I knock on if there’s no door? What button do I push if there’s no bell? These aren’t the kinds of things that keep me up at night, but they’reclose.
This place is chaos. Controlled chaos, but still chaos. There’s a dumpster out front filled with debris, there are guys grunting and carrying beams from one end of the site to the other. There’s a designer and her assistant comparing tiles and color schemes on a table out front, pointing at where the house is going to be, squinting at the sun, smiling at eachother.
Everyone has a job and they’re moving efficiently and swiftly, but still, to my eye, it looks like the frantic, horn-honking cross-town traffic I witnessed when I visited my grandmother in New York City every summer when I was akid.
I always looked forward to those trips. Bagels. Cream cheese. Summer in New York is hot but it’s nothing compared to here. Ironically, I always found myself feeling hotter and being more uncomfortable during the summer in New York. At least in Florida everything’s blasted to high-hell with air conditioning and the only time you have to be outside is when you walk from your car to wherever you’regoing.
Winter, though, in Florida, is magical. It’s okay that this house doesn’t have central air installed yet. It barely even has aroof.
Someone with a wheelbarrow full of gravel grunts as he pushes it past me. I weave around huge bags of sand as I make my way up what will soon be a path with two hot pizzas in tow. The bass of someone’s boom-box is pounding. Everything is sparkling with electric energy. I loveit.
And I love how Dad secretly had all of Eli’s guys come pick up all the stuff they needed when I was in class yesterday. He wanted to keep Eli’s arrival a surprise for me. I’ve always said that I don’t like surprises. I’ve always said that I enjoy the anticipation of leading up to something I’m looking forward to. Well, I say that now, but it hasn’t always beentrue.
Case in point, when I was turning twelve, a surprise birthday party was thrown in my honor. Eli showed up with a piñata, a baseball bat, and the bandana that he always had with him for some reason. When he wrapped the bandana across my eyes and tied it in the back I felt so special. A surprise party. For me. Pin the tail on the donkey. Eli spun me around until I was totally disoriented. I tried to pin the donkey’s tail on hisnose.