All Kinds of Help

Charlie and I weren’t going to make the mistake of starting the day without Peet’s.  We knew it could be tough going today.  Even if the rest of the day sucked, at least the day wasn’t a total failure: we enjoyed a well-made cup of coffee.

Jenn must have heard us getting ready.  She popped her head out of her bedroom and said, “Can I go with you?” 

“You want to be with us?”

“Please?”

“We take a long time,” I said.  “Your Dad can drink four refills, you know.”

She was ready before we were. 

We drove by the Saturday Market while trying to find a place to park.  The Saturday Market started out in the little park and has become so big that booths and tents line the neighboring streets.  You can’t park anywhere.

Jenn saw the booths and asked what was going on.  “It’s where the rich people go to be seen by other rich people in this rich person’s town,” I say. 

“It’s the white collar swap meet,” Charlie says.  “It’d be called a Farmer’s Market, but all the farms have been bulldozed into Street of Dreams developments.”

“I see some cute dogs,” Jenn says.   

As I suspected, Jenn quickly got bored of watching us sipping refills and went to look at the dogs.  She came back before we had another refill and said, “It’s cool.  You thought it’s a bunch of rich people.  It’s the opposite.”

We picked up our Peet’s and followed her to the one place we’ve avoided the whole time we’ve lived here.  After ten minutes of wandering, we were full to the point of being sick by all the samples of fruit and jam and bread forced upon us by happy vendors.  That doesn’t stop us, though.  We’re tough. 

Jenn found the doggie day care and saw a dog like her poodle back home.  Whenever she got close to any dog, they all seemed to get close.  “All animals love me,” she said.  “I don’t know why.”  She sat down and the big black poodle cuddled right up to her.  “You guys walk around for a while.  I’ll be here.”

Charlie and I obeyed.  We were wrong about this place.  We had a lot of making up to do.  If there were rich people within range, they sure didn’t act very self-important.  They sure didn’t act like rich people.

Charlie stopped at a booth full of fancy crocheted housewares.  This is the first time I’ve seen him interested in anything crocheted.  We live in little Kosovo.  There’s nothing in our house on which you’d put something crocheted.  What is he thinking?  I slowed down my walk, but didn’t stop.  There were still lots of free samples I haven’t yet tried.  With all this walking, I could squeeze in one or two more things.

“All the proceeds from this booth go to the deaf and blind,” the vendor said. 

“Good,” I said.  I said it with a little too much excitement, especially for someone who wasn’t stopping to look.  Charlie started laughing at me.  The vendor expected me to stop, being so excited.  I didn’t.  What would I do with a doily?

We returned home to see our friends, Kevin and Kristine, unloading dozens of sheets of drywall into our nightmare room downstairs.  “I brought out the pro,” Kevin said.  “I can’t unload it by myself and she’s cheap labor.”

“Will work for beer,” she said.  “Every time I help him, I make him pay me in a night out at a brewpub.  I don’t mind at all.”

I watched her carry sheet after sheet, using her own special gloves and positioning her foot at the perfect angle to turn corners with ease.  It looks like she’s done this many times before.  They finished quickly and drove off for another truckfull.

The subcontractor who did our siding wanted to do our roof, too.  “I like monotonous, repetitive tasks,” he said.  “I’m really good at mindless things.”

“We got a bid for $4,700,” Charlie said.  “If you can do it cheaper, it’s yours.”  He came in with a bid for $4,500.  Charlie didn’t tell him the $4,700 was such a good price because Charlie offered to help tear off the old roof.  He also didn’t tell him the bid was from another friend.

The subcontractor came over with a bunch of guys and whipped off the composite shingles in a matter of hours.  Jenn saw them up there.  “Where’s the lawnchairs?” she said.  “I’m serious.”

“We don’t have any.”

“If my friends and I were here, seriously they wouldn’t come back,” she said.  “We’re that obnoxious.  The guy in the white shirt is nice.”

Since we’re looking up, we didn’t notice the nine year-old standing next to us.

“Who in this house skateboards?” he asked.

“How’d you know someone skateboards?” Charlie asked.

“I saw the broken skateboards in the garbage.”

“You’re pretty smart.”

“I have an advanced personality,” the kid said.  “I’m in TAG.”

“Who are you?” Jenn asks.

“Jesse.  The guy on the roof’s my Dad,” he said.  “I got 100% on every test I took last year.”

Charlie took the kid up to meet the vegan skateboarder.  For the next few hours we saw neither one of them.  Then the Country boy called, wanting to come over but needing a ride.

“I’ll get him,” the vegan said and ran out of the door as fast as he could.  Come to think of it, whenever I walked by the nine year-old was chatting and asking questions and the vegan was quieter than usual.

Jenn decided to paint the back of the house.  “I need money,” she said.  “Will you pay me like you pay the skateboarders?”

“I’ll probably pay you more, since I don’t need to babysit you,” I said.  I set her up with everything she needed to paint the back of the house.  I didn’t see or hear from her for the next two hours.

“I did everything I could reach,” she said.  “It’s hot out there.”

“You painted the whole back of the house?”

“Everything I could reach.”

“The skateboarders painted about a third that much and it took them all afternoon.”

“What else can I do?”

Charlie and I made her take a break.  It’s hot back there.  We had to figure out something for her to do.

“You want to shop-vac?” I asked.  “I cleared out the living area.   No more power tools and no more spare doors and stacked boards in the living room.”

“Okay,” she said. 

After she shop-vac’d the living area, she went downstairs and cleaned up all the rest of the sawdust and mess.  By this time, Charlie finished sanding the ceilings upstairs in the bedrooms, so Jenn shop-vac’d up there, too.  Not even the General with her 15 year-old energy has done this without taking a two or three day break.

“What else can I do?” Jenn asked.

“Let me think,” I said. 

Charlie and I found some priming and puttying she could do.  “Finish this,” I said, “and I’ll pay you whatever you need.  You’ve worked hard enough.”

The roofer’s kid started following her around until the skateboarders returned.  He picked up one of his Dad’s crowbars and said, “Goodbye, cruel world,” and pretended to knock himself in the head.  Jenn thought this was pretty funny, but his Dad happened to walk in one time and got a scared look on his face.  He didn’t say anything though.

“Play hide and seek with me,” the roofer’s kid asked the Country boy.  “C’mon.  I’m in TAG.  I’m good at it.”

“I’m neither Gifted nor Talented,” the Country boy said.  “Hide and seek’s hard.”

“Come on,” the roofer’s kid said.  “I won’t hide very hard.”

“I told you, I’m not in TAG,” the Country boy said.  “I’ll forget the rules.”

The skateboarders started looking in the refrigerator and cupboards for something to eat.  Jenn stood at the doorway, painting the trim.  She noticed the vegan sneaking something from the refrigerator.

“The vegan’s eating f*cking meat!” she said.  “That’s not vegan, you f*cker!  The vegan’s eating meat!”

The skateboarders and Jenn laugh.  This is how they talk with each other.  They forgot the nine year-old roofer’s son standing by.  His eyes got very wide and he didn’t say anything for a minute.  I’ll bet these aren’t the job site hazards his Dad was thinking about this morning.

“She’s in trouble,” he said.  “She’s in big trouble.”

Jenn went out and found the roofer.  “I’m sorry,” she said.  “I swore in front of your kid.”

“It’s nothing he hasn’t heard before,” he said.

“I’m not sure about that,” Jenn said. 

Jenn went back into the kitchen and picked up her roller.  She filled it with paint and instead of swearing at the vegan, primed him.  “Here’s what you get for eating meat,” she said.

The vegan ran off to take a shower.  He hates having any indication of work on himself.

“Come on,” Bobb whose real name is John said.  “We don’t have time for you to take a shower.  You can skate with paint, can’t you?”

The vegan didn’t say anything.  He didn’t start the shower, either.

“Shower after we skate,” Bobb said.  “Let’s go.  You said you’d film me doing my new stuff.  We don’t have a lot of light left.”

Jenn listened.  Her eyes narrowed.  “I wish he’d stick up for himself,” she said to me quietly.  “If he doesn’t want to skate with paint all over himself, he shouldn’t have to.”

“Come on,” Bobb said.

“No!” the vegan said and turned on the shower.

“Yes!” Jenn said quietly.  “He stood up for himself.  My work is done here.”

“Yeah, I agree,” I said.  “You’re pregnant and you did more this afternoon than the skateboarders did all week.”

Not all of it was in her job description.

A little help? [] 11:39:46 PM