Chapter twenty-three
Deck
“You aim the gun at the juncture of the baseboard and the tile and pull the trigger here,” I explained. “Once you have it in a nice, even line, you run this tool over it to smooth it down.”
“Alright, can I try?” Reign’s eagerness as they reached for the caulking gun amused me. They still mostly communicated with sullen stares and noncommittal noises, but it flowed a little easier since I’d gotten permission for them to help me with projects.
“Yes, but how about you practice on these spare boards first? Then once you find your rhythm, it’ll be a lot easier to crawl down and do it on the actual floor tile.”
Reign nodded and grabbed the boards.
I stood and stretched. I’d been working on the ground all day. Even though I took breaks and wore knee pads, this type of labor was exhausting.
After assessing the extent of the damage to the bathroom, I’d volunteered to do more than simply fix the toilets and surrounding areas. It wouldn’t be a full remodel, but close to it. Juan and I had leftover materials from another commercial job, and the company was happy to donate those items to the Center. I planned to replace all the toilets and stall dividers, along with the tile on the floors and walls. I’d also gotten updated sinks to replace the rusty trough-style one, which looked like something out of a horror movie.
I ran my ideas by Cori yesterday afternoon, and she seemed grateful, not just for my offer but also because the practical discussion put us back on neutral ground. Something we needed after our conversation that morning in front of the same ancient sink.
When she’d asked me what kind of life I wanted.
When she made me realize I still wanted the same thing I had at eighteen.
Except how could I ever have it? After everything.
I wiped an elbow across my brow, keeping an eye on Reign. We needed to wrap up soon so I could help Cori with the dance setup in the gym.
After the first day we met, Reign asked to help me. I wasn’t cleared to interact with kids unless there were other staff members or volunteers around, so Marisol came up with a workaround. She made sure there was always a volunteer in the room with Reign and me. Generally, she grabbed the least-invested person she could find—there were plenty of volunteers at the Center who weren’t there for any sort of altruistic motives, but rather to earn credit hours for class—with the instruction to stand around and serve as an extra body while I taught Reign how to do things.
So while Reign practiced with the caulking gun, Sandra, the volunteer, played on her phone and ignored both of us.
“I told my dad I was helping the contractor at the Center,” Reign told me.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Mm-hmm.” They kept their eyes firmly on the boards in front of them. “He’s annoyed I don’t play sports, and he hates my art, so I figured maybe I’d tell him about this, and he’d like it.”
My stomach dropped. I didn’t feel equipped for this conversation, fearing its direction.
“What did he say?” I asked mildly.
“He slapped me on the shoulder and said, ‘Great idea, Ricardo. Maybe we’ll make a man out of you yet.’”
I winced. And I was seventeen again, watching Eliazar’s parents reject him.
“I’m sorry, Reign. It sucks that he said that, that he can’t see who you are.”
They put the caulking gun down, sitting back against the newly mounted stall divider. “I almost didn’t come today. When my dad said that, I thought maybe I shouldn’t help you anymore. Because, you know, fuck that guy and making him happy. Like maybe I should take a ballet class instead. Or do makeup tutorials online. Even if I have no fucking interest in ballet.”
I let the f-bombs slide. “And the makeup?”
Reign shrugged. “Not my thing.”
I slid down onto the floor across from them. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you came. For you, not your dad. And you know I’m a construction worker, not a trained professional for working with youth. Marisol or Rosa could probably say things better.” I glanced at Sandra again, confirming her continuing obliviousness. “But if you don’t mind hearing this from someone whose primary life skill is wielding a drill, I hope you know that the way your dad is acting is ahimproblem, not ayouproblem.” I whooshed the air from my lungs. “I could lie and say he’ll come around, but he probably won’t. The upside is, you don’t need tolet him get to you either. You can just…not care. You don’t have to make him see that he’s wrong for you to know that he is.”
It was probably shitty advice. To tell a kid they would always fight with their pops. Then again, Reign had been sitting on the couch for months, barely talking to anyone. If they were finally opening up to me, of all people, I sure as hell was going to honor it by being truthful.
Reign nodded. “I hear what you’re saying. It’s just…a shitty situation.”
“True. But it’s not your job to fix him, Reign. And just so we’re very, very clear. Your dad is wrong. Full stop.”
