Authors: Jamie Wahl
“Michael!”
He spun around. It was Charlotte. She stood at the top of the steps, looking ghostly in chalky white stage makeup. She took the steps two at a time.
“Hey, what are you doing in costume?” he asked, surprised.
“Lisa came down with something,” she shrugged energetically. “I’m the understudy.” She was beaming.
“Huh,” Michael said. “You’re not upset?”
“I’m an actress, Michael,” she said with a comically over-done flourish. “Anyway I thought you’d like to have a little warning before you got out there and saw me instead of Lisa.” She started up the steps with a bounce.
“Oh, yeah,” Michael tried to smile. “Thanks.”
“Hey, you okay?” she noticed his posture and paused.
“Oh,” Michael looked for any words and gave up, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired I guess.”
“Are you a rotten liar.” She hooked her hair behind her ear and looked at him with concern. “Hey, why do you have the scythe?”
You idiot
, Michael thought angrily.
Think of something
! “I—uh—I was going to prank someone with the costume, but it didn’t work out.”
“Oh, nice,” she said, surprised. “I didn’t think you were the pranking type.”
“I’m not, usually. Randy has beaten the love of it out of me over the years.”
“I could see him pulling quite a few,” she laughed.
“You have no idea.” Michael rubbed his forehead with his fist. “So much slime. Where do you even buy slime? You don’t mind me borrowing it, do you?”
She smiled. “Not as long as you bring it back on time.”
“Thanks.”
Charlotte stared at him curiously for a moment. Michael had to avert his eyes from her perceptive blue stare. He ignored the lump threatening in his throat.
“I’ve been down lately, too.” She came down the steps toward him. “I keep thinking…” She shook her head. “I was the last one to leave that night.”
Michael looked at her. She stared down the sidewalk.
“There is nothing you could have done,” he said firmly. “It’s not your fault.”
“Yeah,” she said, blinking and smiling away the gathering tears, “It’s stupid, I know.” She shrugged. Guilt was written on her face as clearly as though it was etched in stone. He was sure his face showed the same burden; the difference was, his guilt was founded.
Michael stared at the sidewalk, desperately pushing thoughts of the nursing home from his mind.
“You should come with me tomorrow.” She nudged him with her elbow.
“Where?”
“We’ll leave that a surprise. Can you be at least somewhat alert by eight?”
Michael’s eyes got big.
Not if the last decade is any indication
.
She didn’t wait for his answer, but pulled a pad of sticky notes from her pocket and started scribbling something down. She tore off the top sheet and stuck it to his chest. “It’s something that never fails to cheer me up.”
“…Okay.” Michael blinked, and peeled the yellow paper from his t-shirt. An address was written on it in Charlotte’s neat, curly handwriting.
“And now, the show must go on!” she ran up the steps and disappeared inside.
Michael followed, curiosity for the morning just enough to keep his mind distracted from the regrets of the evening.
But then, distractions are always easy to find when you really need them.
Michael arrived at the address late and looking distinctly disheveled. He leaned forward to pay the cab driver, trying to use the rearview mirror to flatten his hair discreetly.
“Good God, son.” The cabbie had spotted Charlotte standing on the curb. She wore an orange coat with matching gray mittens and a hat. She was neat and adorable. “Good luck.”
His sarcasm was not lost on Michael. “Thanks.”
Michael opened the cab door, all too aware of his rumpled clothing and messy hair.
“Wow.” Charlotte smiled at his crumpled demeanor. “But I was expecting you to be later!” She glanced at her wristwatch “It’s only 8:19!” She held out a fist.
Michael bumped it awkwardly.
“I’m really glad you came,” Charlotte gestured behind her, to a tall building with scaffolding up to the third floor, and several missing windows. It bore all the hallmarks of past beauty. It still retained some of the original stonework detail over the double doors. The brick, though considerably crumbled, was still repairable.
“Where are we?” Michael asked.
“Habitat for Humanity,” Charlotte said, stepping next to Michael to look up at the derelict façade. “There was a fire next door a long time ago, and this building was damaged and then abandoned. It was scheduled for demolition but now it will be six apartment homes.”
“That’s so cool,” Michael said.
“It is! I love it,” Charlotte smiled. “My neighbor, Nana Glenn, started taking me to these when I was little, and I’ve been coming ever since.” She started up the steps. “Come on in, there are probably donuts somewhere.”
She led the way inside, pointing out the repairs that had already been made and the work left to do. They walked up the dusty staircase, which Charlotte assured him was sturdy, and through an open doorway, following the sound of voices somewhere inside.
“This will be one of the apartments,” Charlotte said, surveying the stacks of drywall and chaos of dust-covered tools and ladders.
“This is really cool,” Michael said, feeling hopelessly out of place amongst a myriad of unfamiliar equipment.
“It always cheers me up,” she replied, beaming. “Things can always get better.”
Her smile was more genuine than Michael had ever seen it and her eyes sparkled with hope. Michael couldn’t help but smile just as genuinely back.
They made their way to the kitchen, where several people were chatting and a large man was buttering a bagel.
“Charlotte!” the burly man in overalls said when he saw them. “Where have you been, beautiful?”
“Taking midterms,” she said, accepting a hug that enveloped her tiny frame.
“Is this the boyfriend?” he asked, licking butter off his fingers and eyeing Michael with contempt.
“No, Jim,” Charlotte said, blushing slightly, “this is my friend Michael.”
“That makes more sense,” he chuckled, wiping his hands on a rag.
Michael held out his hand in greeting but the big man hugged him just as enthusiastically as he had Charlotte. The air was forced from Michael’s lungs.
“Nice to meet you,” Michael said, a hand on his sore chest.
“You ever worked with Habitat before, Michael?”
“No, sir, this is my first time.”
“Sir, huh?” Jim said, smiling at Charlotte. “Maybe I like him for boyfriend material after all.”
“Stop it,” Charlotte said, punching his enormous arm.
He laughed at that, her tiny fist probably not even felt through his flannel.
Jim had a large nose and clear brown eyes full of laughter. He reminded Michael of someone from a children’s movie but he couldn’t place it.
“I thought you said the boyfriend was going to come with you the next time we saw you,” Jim added seriously.
“His name is Brad, and he was supposed to,” Charlotte said, shrugging. “I was going to meet him here, but he is usually late.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Jim shook his head.
Charlotte put her hands on her hips. “You don’t like any guy I bring with me.”
“You don’t bring the right guys,” Jim said, mimicking Charlotte’s stance. “What about you, Michael?”
“Huh? What about me?” Michael said, fearing his cheeks were going red.
“Do you think this Brad is in Miss Charlotte’s league?”
Now he knew his cheeks were red.
“Come on, man, speak up!” He raised his fist in encouragement. His eyes were twinkling with mischievous appraisal. Charlotte looked at Michael apologetically.
Michael couldn’t help but smile in spite of his discomfort. “I don’t know anybody in Charlotte’s league.”
Jim laughed heartily. “Yes!” he said with enough enthusiasm to rouse Oscar the Grouch. He put an arm around Michael and steered him toward the table of pastries. “We are going to be good friends!”
Charlotte followed, her cheeks flushed pink. Michael avoided eye contact.
A woman from the other side of the room came forward and greeted Charlotte, and Michael was relieved for the break in that conversation.
Jim and Michael sat together at a card table and ate chocolate-filled donuts while Jim told Michael all about the history of the organization and filled Michael in on the work they’d be doing that day. Michael had no experience with home repair, as his parents were more the type to hire someone to fix leaks and handle routine maintenance for them.
“You’ll love it,” Jim assured him. “Physical labor is good for the soul.”
“So I’m hanging drywall?” Michael asked, confused by Jim’s fast-paced information session.
“No. It’s already hung. You’ll be spackling.”
“Spackling?” Michael asked, feeling decidedly un-manly.
“Miss Charlotte has done it more times than I can count. She’ll be a good teacher,” Jim said, “Unless you want to work with someone else?”
Jim’s eyes sparkled with mirth. Michael glanced at Charlotte, who was still in conversation across the room.
“I’ll be fine,” Michael said conspiratorially.
Jim laughed so loud several people turned and smiled in their direction.
“Well,” Jim slapped both of his meaty hands on the table with a loud thud, “are you well fed?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, let’s get this thing started, then,” he said, standing.
“Everybody,” Jim announced to the instantly attentive room, “we have a new one today.”
Jim motioned for Michael to stand, so he did, choking slightly on his last bite of doughnut.
“This is Michael,” he said, placing a big hand on Michael’s shoulder, causing his knees to buckle.
There was a chorus of greeting from the room.
“Thanks,” Michael mumbled, staring at the table.
“Kate and I have the details on today’s projects, so if you’re here to help with electrical or plumbing see her, and for everything else, come see me. Let’s get to it!”
The room cheered and whooped enthusiastically and everyone dispersed.
“You, my dear,” Jim said when Charlotte walked toward them, “will be teaching this young man how to spackle.”
Jim had an arm around each of them, and he steered them out of the kitchen and into the large space that Michael assumed was the living room area. He gestured to a doorway that was half framed, its door leaning against the wall next to it.
“That bedroom is your project today. All the drywall is up, but none of it is mudded. I’d love to see that get done today, so we’ll be ready to paint this time next week.”
“We can do that,” Charlotte said, collecting a bright orange bucket of tools that Jim had pointed out.
“Good luck, young people,” Jim said as he headed toward the main hallway. “I’m off to lay flooring!”
“Have fun,” Charlotte said, waving. She handed Michael a silver tool with a red plastic handle. It was shaped almost like a ping pong paddle, but it had a flat end.
“This is your putty knife,” Charlotte said, leading the way into the room and glancing around briefly before deciding where to get started. She pulled an identical tool from the bucket and demonstrated a spreading motion on the wall. “You’ll get some mud on here, and wipe it across the seams and nail holes like this.”
Michael imitated the movement through the air, feeling foolish.
Charlotte pulled two rectangular trays out of the bucket, along with a small tub of something which proved difficult to open. “Somebody didn’t clean the rim before they put the lid back on,” she complained.
Michael held out his hand for the tub. She pouted, but handed it over.
“I hate being small.”
“I’m not sure I can open it, either,” Michael said, setting down the putty knife. It popped open easily.
Oh, yeah. I forgot
.
He stared at the open tub.
“You okay?” Charlotte asked, taking the container from him.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Michael said, trying to shake his mind back into gear.
“I’m sorry about Jim. He’s known me since I was nine. He is a little over protective.”
“A little?”
She smirked at him. “Well, you egged him on,” she said, elbowing him gently in the ribs.
“Ouch,” he said, rubbing his side and smiling.
There was a sharp knock from the doorway. “What are we working on?”
They both jumped a little at the interruption. It was Brad, tall, blonde, polo-shirt wearing Brad.
“You made it!” Charlotte set down her tools and walked over to him.
Michael looked at the floor.
“I told you I would,” Brad said, planting a kiss on Charlotte’s forehead.
The couple walked back toward Michael.
“Hey.” Michael waved.
“Hey.” Brad turned his baseball cap around backwards.
“Well, as I was just telling Michael, we are going to be doing some drywall spackling.”
“Cool,” Brad said, peering into the bucket and retrieving another set of tools. “I can do that.”
“Oh, you’ve done it before?”
“Please,” he said, taking the small tub from Michael and scooping a healthy portion into his rectangular dish, “My Uncle Robert is a contractor.”
“Well, perfect,” Charlotte said with a smile. “Where were we, Michael?”
“Um… we got the lid off.”
“Right,” she said, a little flustered, “so the next thing is to get—“
She was interrupted by Brad swooping in for a kiss. “I’m going over there,” he said, gesturing to the opposite section of drywall. Michael didn’t miss the snarky little smile Brad shot him on his way past.
“Okay, thank you,” Charlotte blushed.
When she turned back to Michael she mouthed, “Sorry.”
Michael just shrugged and smiled.
Does he see me as a threat?
“So,” Michael said, clearing his throat, “like this?” He attempted the same sweeping motion she had done.
“Yes,” she said, ladling a helping of the grayish white substance into Michael’s dish. “You don’t want to get too much on the knife. She demonstrated how to criss-cross a thin layering of the putty over the holes. After a while, Michael got the hang of it well enough for her to head off to her own section of wall.
The spackling turned out to be oddly relaxing work. It wasn’t easy exactly, but the repetitive nature of it allowed his brain to shut down almost completely. Michael could have done it for hours if it hadn’t been for Brad getting restless and turning on some strange techno station that pulsated through Michael’s brain like a jackhammer.
When Michael was done with his section he cleaned his tools and walked over to the couple who had worked closely together for the better part of an hour, Charlotte’s giggles occasionally breaking through the music.
“I finished that wall,” Michael said, gesturing behind him.
“That was fast!” she said, motioning for Brad to turn off the music, “Let me see.”
A quick inspection of Michael’s work proved satisfactory. “You sure you’ve never done this before?”
“Yeah,” Michael replied, “It was kinda fun. Thank you for inviting me along. I would stay longer, but I’ve actually got to get home. Randy invited himself over for D&D today.”
“Okay. Thank you for the help.”
Charlotte set down her tools and held her arms out for a hug. Michael couldn’t help but glance at Brad awkwardly before accepting her offer.
God, she smells good
.
“Nice seeing you,” Brad said, placing an arm around Charlotte’s waist and pulling her close to him.
“Nice to see you, too.”
“Have fun!” Charlotte called after him.
“Thanks!” Michael said behind him as he walked away.
He nearly fell over to avoid running right into Jim in the doorway.
“Sorry,” he said, brushing past Michael with a serious look on his face.
“Everything okay?” Michael asked.