I’ve always had shitty luck with men. Why did I think this would be any different? I guess because it felt so different. There have been lots of terrible dates and let-downs, such as guys who have hurt my feelings, and guys who have acted like basic assholes. But this is the first time I’ve ever been truly hurt. And this is the first time my heart was actually at risk.
A noisy truck rattles through the neighborhood, the exhaust loud enough to wake up half the city as well as everyone who was sleeping here. The loud rattle shuts off abruptly, and a volley of loud, male voices take its place.
It’s Friday, and it’s summer, so maybe someone was partying before the weekend and is just getting home now. Maybe someone is coming to a party. The neighborhood might be predominantly an older crowd, but who knows.
I tell myself I don’t really care, and I roll over, still clutching my pillow.
A few minutes later, I can hear what I assume is another truck and more loud voices. I groan into my pillow. Not even five minutes later, which I’m just guessing because I’m not looking at my phone or a clock at the moment, there’s a roar outside—a massive truck pulling up. More voices are greeting each other, and at this point, I have to assume it’s someone getting work done on their house. Maybe getting a pool or a fence put up. Someone lucky enough to be getting new shingles. Something I feel almost hopeless about ever having. I wish it were just shingles because my whole roof is shot. Why did I ever think the house was a good deal? Oh, right. I thought I’d gradually be able to save up enough money to fix it, or I could take out a loan on the equity or something. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Fuck my life. I’ve always thought that statement was pretty crude, but seriously. Right now, as of this moment, I’m going to use it. Then, in five minutes or so, I’m going to get out of bed, shower, and get dressed. And I’m going to put on a happy face. I’ve heard that if you smile, even a fake smile, it makes you feel happy for real. So, I’ll smile as much as it takes, and I’ll get myself back on track. I’ll get back to work, and I’ll work just as hard as before. Maybe I’ll even take a second job—one on the weekends or evenings or something. I’ll fill up my hours, save up for my roof, and get it done.
Keeping busy isn’t the worst thing in the world. I can handle it for a few months. And if I got a part-time job, in a year, I’d probably be able to save up enough to get the roof done. It doesn’t matter that in a year, the thing might cave in on me. I don’t have a lot of other options.
Pride.
If I wasn’t so damn prideful, I could have had the ten thousand dollars, except I would have looked like a real shit bag asking for it. I couldn’t do that to Adam. I couldn’t hurt him further or make him think the weekend was just about that for me, boiling it down to just being about a buck. That would have been the worst thing I could have done to him. I would never do that. I would never intentionally hurt him, and that would have been rubbing some majorly salty salt in some majorly open and festering wounds.
When my doorbell rings, I actually leap out of bed. I’m so startled, and my heart is pounding so hard that for a second, I’m almost convinced I sprouted some really short-lived wings.
“Holy shit.” I set my hand over my beating heart. It’s five-thirty in the morning. What the heck could someone want?
The trucks. Those guys probably have the wrong address, and they’re likely at the wrong place—my place. I figure I have to go down and tell them, even if I am in grungy sweats and a t-shirt with my hair an epic mess and unshowered. They’ll understand. It’s the butt crack of freaking dawn out there.
I stumble down the stairs, bleary-eyed and off-balance from lack of sleep. I feel every bit as horrible as I probably look. When I pull open the door, though, the big, burly, middle-aged guy doesn’t seem to notice. He just shoves a clipboard at me with some paperwork and has a smile that is far too big for this early in the morning.
“Morning, ma’am. We’re here about the roof.”
“What?” I stare stupidly at the forms that were just thrust into my hand.
“The roof. We quoted on the job, and we had the go-ahead yesterday. It’s paid for already, so the guys and I thought we’d get an early start and get it done as fast as we can. We usually don’t get full payment until the job’s done, and this one doesn’t sound small.”
“If you haven’t seen it, how would you know what you have to do?” I’m more sure than ever that they’re at the wrong house. Ha. Wishful thinking that it would be my roof they’d come to fix. I guess maybe things might be predestined after all because the universe is playing really shitty jokes on me lately.
“We got paid in advance, yes. They weren’t entirely sure of the scope of the job, but it was explained that a new roof was needed, and it might be quite advanced. We were given the approximate square footage. We sent out a quote based on the very rough numbers, and we got payment in full and a promise of further funds if the work is more extensive. I thought I’d ask you if it was alright to take a look, and then we’d get started.”
“Uh, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t pay for anything, and I’m pretty sure you’re at the wrong address.”
“But, you do have a roof that needs fixing?”
“Yes,” I admit carefully. “But I didn’t pay for
it, so I can’t have you do any work. You have the wrong address. You’re probably supposed to be at one of the neighbors.”
The guy lifts a brow, backs up a step, and studies the numbers on the side of the house. “Nope. This is the right place.”
“But I…I didn’t pay for anything.”
“No, you didn’t. But someone named Adam Fino did. He gave us a previous quote from someone who looked at the house for the bank before it was sold.”
“Oh my god.” Now I remember sitting at my desk, studying the appraisal of the house, and looking at the work that would have to be done. I remember talking to someone about it even though I can’t remember who it was now.
I do remember that Adam was in his office, so he probably overhead everything. I scanned the document into my work computer, where I keep a few personal documents as a backup for safekeeping. I’ve asked Adam if it’s alright, saying I don’t have a scanner at home, and he was fine with it. He does have access to my desktop at any time and all my files, as they often need to be shared since they’re work-related. I also have access to most of his desktop, his email, and most of his files as well. I have nothing on my work computer that I ever intended to hide.
That’s where he got the original quote.
When did he do it? Certainly not before we went camping. That wouldn’t have made sense. Could it have been after? Yes, it had to have been.
“Is it alright if we come in and take a look? This can get kind of messy, and we’ll have to cover up a bunch of things and tarp everything off. When it gets down to that, probably later this afternoon, you might want to find somewhere else to stay for a couple of days. It would save you from having us in your hair and literally having no roof .”