When I asked, Cody told me he liked to take the back roads to the quarry because they took longer. \u201cMore time getting paid to sit down,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
I\u2019d let him drive so I could pencil out a new bid. We were just north of Greenfield, past the tree nurseries and orchards, about to that old barn with the orange, white, and turquoise siding.\u00a0I slid off my reading glasses and set the calculator on the dash. The morning sky was overcast, and it was hard to tell if the gray was going to turn to rain, or if it was going burn off and get sunny. \u201cThat\u2019s not something you should actually say out loud to your boss,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
Cody drove with one hand at the bottom of the wheel. He had his ball cap pushed back, exposing his baby-white forehead. His bangs were already stiff with dried sweat from loading up the truck. \u201cBut you asked,\u201d he said. \u201cWhy do you like to go this way? Those were your exact words.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know,\u201d I said. But I\u2019d also asked him why he just didn\u2019t take the interstate. It shot you right out of town so you didn\u2019t have to deal with all the stop-and-go stuff, or any of the steep hills, which ate up the transmission when you had a load. It was the way I always went, which I thought communicated\u2014communicated quite clearly, in fact\u2014that it was the way I wanted everyone else on the crew to go too. \u201cIt\u2019s just that it\u2019s never a smart idea to tell your boss that you like to milk the driving time. Sort of as a general practice thing, you\u2019re better off not saying that.\u201d<\/p>\n
His baby-white forehead wrinkled a bit, and he sat up a bit straighter in his seat. \u201cI didn\u2019t say I was trying to milk things,\u201d he said. \u201cYou know that\u2019s not what I meant.\u201d<\/p>\n
He was right. He wasn\u2019t like the guys the temp agency sometimes gave me, the ones who mostly excelled at standing around, or taking smoke breaks and talking shit about the pussy they were getting. The kid could move rock unlike any of us. He\u2019d already snapped two handles of the wheelbarrows because of how much he overloaded them. If we were setting a footing and we hit some concrete-hard clay, or if there was a big root that needed to be hacked out, the mattock always went to him because he\u2019d swing it for hours without stopping\u2014machine-like, possessed.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, I know,\u201d I said. \u201cYou\u2019re a workhorse.\u201d I hadn\u2019t been trying to call him lazy. \u201cIt\u2019s just that\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m trying hard,\u201d he interrupted. \u201cI really am.\u201d Something about that last part made me wonder if we were having the same conversation.<\/p>\n
\u201cCould you maybe try going the other way from now on?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou want me to take the interstate?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019d prefer that, yes.\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked over at me. He hadn\u2019t shaved in a bit, and he\u2019d grown a little fuzz on his face. \u201cLike all the time?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019d be a good start.\u201d<\/p>\n
We drove for a bit without talking then. On Cody\u2019s side of the road, fields of mint passed by in an emerald blur. There was a shuttered lumber mill and some other industrial-looking place called Rainbow Specialty. Out my window were a few modest horse places, but mostly it was just empty pasture that rose and gradually gave way to the foothills. There were some massive oaks out there on some of the knolls, and in the summer, when the grass had browned out, and if the light was just right, I often found myself dreaming of hiking to one of those trees with some beautiful woman and having a picnic on a blanket and making love\u2014even though I didn\u2019t really know any women anymore, and it was all just poison oak under those trees anyway.<\/p>\n
We passed the first sign for the quarry. It featured a painted dump truck in each corner and a big, black arrow pointing east. A weathered American flag hung motionless from it. Coleman Road was still a quarter-mile off, but Cody lifted his foot from the gas and signaled. The action for the lever had broken like a thousand miles ago, and he had to hold the lever in place so the lights would keep flashing. There wasn\u2019t another vehicle in sight, and I got the sense he was signaling for me, just to demonstrate how much he obeyed traffic laws.<\/p>\n
I\u2019d hired Cody as a favor to Trish, who was one of the women I used to know. She also felt like maybe the only woman I might ever want to get to know again, if I could ever let myself do that. Cody was engaged to her niece, and he hadn\u2019t been able to make it at the community college, something Trish knew I wouldn\u2019t hold against him. She also knew what happened to guys when they didn\u2019t have anything to do and just sat around the house and started losing their ways, something she wanted to spare her niece from. \u201cAnd you\u2019re so good at mentoring,\u201d she\u2019d said. I couldn\u2019t tell if she was being sarcastic.<\/p>\n
At the time, I already had a full crew and was reluctant. She\u2019d called me out of the blue, the first time in over a year. We talked for a long time that night. I was living in the same place I have now, a little studio in the back corner of this retired music professor\u2019s yard. It had its own entrance through the alley, and the professor let me do some maintenance work for partial exchange in rent, and my life was simple enough again that I could sit under the stars long after I should\u2019ve gone to bed, talking to the woman I left my wife for, and then almost married, and then froze out completely.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis was nice,\u201d she said, just before we hung up.<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah,\u201d I said, \u201cit was.\u201d I was being honest. There was a pause then, a silence that felt balanced by something unsteady, though what that something was I couldn\u2019t say. Earlier, she\u2019d told me she\u2019d started seeing someone\u2014said that she was taking it slow, but that she felt really positive about it. Afterwards, I lied and told her the same thing was happening with me.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell,\u201d she yawned.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s late,\u201d I said. In six hours the automatic brew function on my coffee maker would start. I\u2019d get up and take a hot shower to unstiffen my joints. I\u2019d eat my oatmeal and flax seeds and whole-wheat toast, pack a lunch, put out a little food for the cat that had started coming around. I wanted to tell Trish that I was happy for her, that I hoped she\u2019d be safe and not get hurt by this new guy, but I also thought it wasn\u2019t my place to say any of those things anymore, and all I told her was that at first it\u2019d be a trial run for Cody, and that I\u2019d see how it went from there. That I wasn\u2019t making any promises.<\/p>\n
\u201cJust give him a shot, Dan. For me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFor you,\u201d I said, and then almost fell asleep outside.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Coleman Road eventually turned to gravel. We rattled slowly over the cattle guard. On one of the fence posts, a spray-painted sign that read 10 MPH hung crookedly. Two other gravel roads branched off from there, the first of which went to a busted-out trailer home, its door hanging open, the whole place swarmed in blackberry brambles. The other went over to a chocolate-brown ranch house, all its windows covered in plastic weatherizing film. A small, man-made pond had been dug into the backyard. The water was murky, and an aluminum rowboat floated near the middle. A long yellow rope stretched from the boat to the steering wheel of a riding lawnmower that was parked on shore.<\/p>\n
Although the configuration of cars in the driveway was always changing, I\u2019d never seen anyone outside. Cody usually called the place \u201crandom,\u201d but he seemed a little sulky from before and didn\u2019t even glance at the place. He hadn\u2019t needed to take it so hard, but I knew how that could be. I watched the boat floating in a reflection of sky, trying my best to picture someone sitting inside it, feet propped up, fishing pole in hand, looking happy despite the sorry state of everything else.<\/p>\n
Up ahead, a dump truck hauling tons of rock rumbled down the road, trailing a towering cloud of dust. You could get fooled into thinking you had a lot of time before those trucks reached you, but Cody knew better. He pulled over where there was a turnout and rolled up his window. I set my glasses and calculator back in my briefcase, put the bid away, stuffed it all behind the seat.<\/p>\n
The dump truck thundered past, doing at least thirty. Dust swallowed us, the world wiped away by brown cloud. Even with the windows closed, the dirt still pushed into the cab, and you could taste it on your tongue. A minute or two later, just as the air was clearing, another truck barreled through, socking us in again. Scared the crap out of the driver when he saw us.<\/p>\n
We waited there quietly, watching things settle. Cody was squeezing the steering wheel with both hands, but I couldn\u2019t tell if he was impatient, or annoyed, or what. Both of us coughed and cleared our throats. Sunlight pushed through in streaks. All the particles in the air made the light incredibly orange, and there was something otherworldly about the moment, something hidden and private, and whatever it was, I could feel it dissipating.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou remember that patio at the Gibson\u2019s?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe Gibson\u2019s?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOver on Kennedy,\u201d I said. \u201cThat place where I got all over you for leaning on the broom in front of the client.\u201d<\/p>\n
Cody looked at me and nodded. He gave the wheel another squeeze.<\/p>\n
\u201cRemember what I told you?\u201d<\/p>\n
Cody confessed that he didn\u2019t, not really.<\/p>\n
\u201cI told you that it wasn\u2019t about taking a break or slacking. We were done for the day, after all. I think you\u2019d just finished sweeping the patio, too. I said it was one of those things that you just never did. Never lean on your broom or your shovel in front of the client. I said some things just looked certain ways to people, and that you had to be aware of those perceptions, because if you weren\u2019t, that\u2019s how you ended up with all sorts of headaches. And leaning on a broom\u2014that was one of those things that never ever looked good to a client, no matter how much you deserved the little bit of rest.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI remember that,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s what I was meaning earlier, about saying what you said to me.\u201d It was my fault for not just telling him which way to go right from the start.<\/p>\n
Cody told me he got it. \u201cI guess I just took it wrong,\u201d he said. He apologized, but I told him not to go that far. The dust had mostly cleared, and he reached for the gearshift. He had to wrestle it a little to get it to move. \u201cI don\u2019t know what it is,\u201d he said. \u201cWhatever I say lately keeps not coming out right, or I keep hearing things incorrectly. That\u2019s what Maddie says, at least.\u201d The tires spun slightly on the gravel. \u201cThings are super bad right now.\u201d<\/p>\n
A few more curves and we\u2019d be to the pit. \u201cRelationships can be hard,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
\u201cDude, you don\u2019t even know.\u201d<\/p>\n
I snorted out loud. He knew I was single, but I also figured he\u2019d learned a little bit more than that.<\/p>\n
\u201cSee,\u201d he said. \u201cI didn\u2019t mean for that to sound however it sounded.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t even know,\u201d I said. I\u2019d wanted to ask it as a question, but I mimicked his tone instead.
\nWe rounded the last corner, and the road leveled out. A long time ago, someone had hauled massive columns of granite down there and lined the ditches with them. It made me feel puny to think about how heavy they were. Next to the big drive-on scale sat a simple, plywood-walled office. Cody pulled alongside it. There was a white marker board propped up on a rusted tire rim. The handwritten message was so sun-faded it was almost invisible. Pit open Grab a hardhat If you\u2019re here for wall rock go up hill to right For gravel come find me Larry.<\/p>\n
Cody unlatched his seatbelt and cracked his door. \u201cWhat color?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n
An assortment of hardhats hung on a row of nails that had been pounded into the wall. A few yards off, a diesel generator purred. There were two stacks of floodlights, several barrels of hydraulic oil, and a welding transformer.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll take that yellow one,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
Cody got out, flicked the yellow one off its nail, and then grabbed an orange one for himself. No matter what color, all of them were old and crappy and never fit very well. Cody used to be self-conscious about wearing them, used to check himself in the side mirror to see how he looked, or would sometimes leave them in the truck, until one of the walls dropped a baseball-sized rock near him without any warning one day.<\/p>\n
We took off our baseball caps and then spent some time trying to adjust the band inside the hardhats. It took Cody three or four tries with his. Once we both had them on, we did what had become a kind of ritual between the two of us: we tested them out.<\/p>\n
He made a fist and rapped my head hard with his knuckles, and then I did the same to him.
\n\u201cNothing,\u201d we said, noting what got through.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The quarry was divided into an upper and lower pit. Larry didn\u2019t unearth much stone from the bottom one anymore, so we drove to the upper, which was just a mess of dynamited rock. The lower was where the crushers and screens and conveyors were staged, where massive heaps of gravel towered over you and let off tiny avalanches that sounded like the surf. A couple of old excavators and a wheel loader got parked down there, too. One of the excavators had a hammer attachment on the arm, and Larry would spend hours on that thing, swinging the boom from rock to rock, pulverizing each one. The chunkchunkchunk, chunkchunkchunk was deafening, constant, chunkchunkchunk, chunkchunkchunk, and even with earplugs in, if I spent too much time down there, my head would start to go crazy with the noise. The whole work of a quarry was to use hard things to break down other hard things into smaller and smaller pieces.<\/p>\n
Cody and I picked through a new area of rock. Larry had been blasting a lot up there lately, eating away the hillside, building fresh road as he went. Some guys didn\u2019t handpick their rock, but instead just had Larry scoop up a bucketful and dump it into their trailers, taking whatever shapes and sizes they got. Sometimes that was okay, especially if you were doing riprap stuff, or if you were building a wall with cinder block and mortar backing, where the stone was just a fa\u00e7ade. But Cody and I were dry stacking, meaning we used no mortar to hold the walls together. The stones had to rest on themselves, each locking the others into place. We looked for rocks that had at least three good faces, turning them over and over to see how they wanted to sit. Some rocks, no matter which way you set them, wanted to wobble, but others had a side where they would just sit, suddenly full of inertia, which is what we wanted.<\/p>\n
A lot of the rock that had come out of this last blast was stained brown and was almost soft, chipping apart in our hands. Cody and I pulled stones and made small talk, mostly sports and movies. I still paid enough attention to them that I could catch most of the references. I was hoping this would be the last run of stones we\u2019d need. The stones had to fit the scale of the project, which meant we needed a lot of big pieces. Mr. Brucemore also wanted us to match the color to the other work I\u2019d done on his property, most of which was a deep, dark gray that looked monotone from a distance, but shimmered with all kinds of coloring, almost like gasoline on water, when you got up close.<\/p>\n
Cody pulled another rock free and waddled it toward the bed of the truck, where it landed with a hard thud when he hefted it in. He pulled his gloves on tighter and then balled his fists into his lower back and stretched. He made a groaning noise that I\u2019d never heard from him before. He went to the cab and grabbed his water bottle and took a couple long draws. After he threw the bottle back inside, he shut the door and then just stood there, leaning on it like he was one of those temp-agency mistakes.<\/p>\n
When I asked him if he was okay, he gave me another apology and quickly got back to it. As he searched through the pile, he started telling me about some of the stuff that had been going on between him and Maddie. What he couldn\u2019t understand was why she kept getting mad at him for having her back, and for watching out for her, and for trying to help. She\u2019d tell him about a problem at school, or work, or with one of her friends, and then he\u2019d tell her what she should do about it, and then she\u2019d get all mad and frustrated and silent.<\/p>\n
\u201cI was telling her how part of the reason she was having this trouble in one of her classes was because of how she always wants to please others, which she has totally admitted to, and all I said was that she just needed to tell her teacher directly that she\u2019d come up with the idea for the project, instead of whatever his name was, who was just some fucking guy that got assigned to her group.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd how\u2019d that go?\u201d I asked, though I could already guess.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe got pissed and told me I didn\u2019t understand, and that she\u2019d already figured it out anyway, which I didn\u2019t believe.\u201d<\/p>\n
A nice capstone\u2014a rock five or six inches thick and about twice the size of a TV tray, a piece of furniture I was becoming very familiar with\u2014stuck partway out of the jumble. \u201cYou told her you didn\u2019t believe her?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI think so. I\u2019m pretty sure.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPretty sure seems a little light.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat I told her was that I didn\u2019t believe her because she was horrible at figuring things out. That\u2019s what I said. She asked if I was calling her stupid. She said that\u2019s what it sounded like to her, and I tried to tell her I wasn\u2019t saying that, I wasn\u2019t saying she was stupid, just that she didn\u2019t figure things out very well.\u201d<\/p>\n
I\u2019d known Maddie since she was fourteen, long before Cody was around. While I\u2019d mostly only spent a few family occasions with her, they were enough to make it clear that Cody was way off\u2014that she could actually figure quite a lot, with or without him.<\/p>\n
\u201cI hope she called you stupid for saying all that to her.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve said sorry about it like a million times already,\u201d he said. \u201cAnd I keep saying it, even though every time I do, it\u2019s actually starting to make things worse.\u201d<\/p>\n
The capstone was sitting at a sharp angle, and buried in the pile a bit. I told Cody to bring the digging bar over, hoping that if I put something in his hands his mouth would stop moving. I cleared away some more of the surrounding rocks and tossed away the remnant of bright yellow blasting cap. I told Cody to give it a try. He sank the bar under a corner of the rock and leaned his weight onto it. The stone moved slightly, scraping against the other rocks that were pinched against it. As soon as he took his weight off the bar, the capstone slipped back down.<\/p>\n
\u201cBoth of us,\u201d I said. I got on the bar with Cody. The rock lifted again, higher, but sunk right back into its hole as soon as we let off.<\/p>\n
Cody tried to nudge me out of the way so he could give it another shot by himself, but I wouldn\u2019t let him. For some reason, I actually wanted to this one, even at the risk of him starting to talk again. I took away the bar and jammed it under a different corner, setting a sharper angle. I leaned down on it as hard as I could. It was such a simple, beautiful tool. Five feet of dropped-forged steel, pointed on one end, a tamping head on the other. The rock lifted again, but higher than before.<\/p>\n
As I held it there, Cody tossed a chock-stone underneath so it couldn\u2019t fall back. I moved the bar over and worked the other corner up, which Cody also chocked. We kept working it like that, ratcheting the stone a couple inches at a time.<\/p>\n
Ten minutes later, when the rock was only about halfway free, Cody asked if we should just forget it. My palms were numb and pink, and my pulse thrummed in my ears. He reminded me about my rule of not spending more than a few minutes digging for a buried rock, how I\u2019d always told him to just select pieces right at the surface. He sounded a little winded himself.<\/p>\n
\u201cCome on,\u201d I said. \u201cLook at this thing.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, I know,\u201d he said. \u201cIt\u2019s pretty nice.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPretty nice?\u201d I asked. One side had a bunch of quartz in it, a blaze of white dots that reminded me of the Milky Way. I wasn\u2019t just thinking capstone anymore, but maybe a bench, or some kind of mantelshelf. Maybe I wouldn\u2019t even use it at the Brucemore\u2019s at all. Maybe I\u2019d just add it to the pile the music professor was letting me keep in her yard, which I\u2019d use to build different archways or egg sculptures from when I felt restless and wanted to practice, leaving them up for a week or two before taking them down, getting a finger-wagging from the professor if I didn\u2019t tell her first so she could take a picture. \u201cThey have such balance,\u201d she\u2019d always say.<\/p>\n
Cody and I finally wiggled the rock to a point where we could pull it out by hand. He squatted next to me, and we overlapped our arms, looking for places to grab hold.<\/p>\n
\u201cGot it?\u201d I asked. We\u2019d have to lift in unison. It\u2019d go up slow, but come down fast. \u201cWatch your fingers.\u201d
\nHe readjusted his grip. \u201cAlright,\u201d he said, \u201cyep.\u201d The only time I\u2019d really almost fired him, he\u2019d let a rock slip early, smashing my pinkie, actually trapping it. My nail went purple, then black, then fell off. Six months later, it still hadn\u2019t grown back normal.<\/p>\n
\u201cAlright,\u201d I said. We went on three like we always did.<\/p>\n
Cody reached up to high-five. \u201cSweet,\u201d he said, slapping my hand.<\/p>\n
We\u2019d had to set the stone down twice to get it there, but now it was in the back of the truck. \u201cBagged it,\u201d Cody had said, like an elk. Millions of years ago, the rock was lava running down from the volcanoes, a piece of fire burning everything in its path. Today, it was Cody and I and a bunch of grunting, and the volcanoes had all become ski resorts.<\/p>\n
I parked my ass on the tailgate and took off my gloves. \u201cTake a break,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
Cody sat down for a minute, but then got back up, not able to sit still. He picked a few small rocks from the dirt and side-armed them into the woods below us. We both laughed for some reason when we heard one knock against a tree.<\/p>\n
The sharp stench of hydraulic oil wafted in from the lower pit, which seemed quiet. The clouds had burned off, and the sky was a blue that hurt to look at. A red-tailed hawk circled above us and screeched. It thought it was nearby, but I couldn\u2019t ever spot it, couldn\u2019t get my eyes to stop watering from the brightness.<\/p>\n
Cody continued pitching stones. The leaves sounded like cheap wrapping paper when the rocks tore through them. He suddenly turned philosophical and wondered why everything else couldn\u2019t be like this, why they couldn\u2019t be as easy and fun as chucking stones into the woods. \u201cIt reminds me of being a kid,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
I said, \u201cThis is like this. Keep throwing.\u201d<\/p>\n
Larry\u2019s excavator climbed the road to the upper pit. The engine rumbled deeply, the treads squeaking and groaning, metal against metal, the sound of a tank in a war movie. A black cloud of smoke belched over the horizon.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat if I don\u2019t love her?\u201d Cody asked, abruptly.<\/p>\n
I got up from my seat. \u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d I said, feeling a little annoyed that he was asking me what it meant for him, which was his to decide. \u201cIf you don\u2019t love her, then you don\u2019t love her, or you can start loving her, one of those. But I doubt that\u2019s really the case.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n
The first time I\u2019d maybe thought about firing Cody was at the end of his first month. I called Trish to let her know, and when she asked what he\u2019d done, I had to admit that he hadn\u2019t really done anything, not specifically. It was more just these little things, like how he would always have to take off his shirt if the woman of the house was around, or if we were over by the university, where there was a steady stream of co-eds.<\/p>\n
Trish eventually said she understood and thanked me for giving him a shot. That\u2019s what I\u2019d promised, after all, just a trial run. I\u2019d know her much too long to not hear the disappointment in her voice. And also I\u2019d known her much too long to not hear how some of that disappointment was aimed at me. \u201cBut he did good otherwise?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah,\u201d I said. \u201cHe did great. He\u2019s a good kid.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI hope so.\u201d<\/p>\n
The conversation was brief. I wanted to ask how she was doing, but it seemed out of place. I listened for things in the background, but couldn\u2019t hear any clues. Just before saying goodbye, she thanked me for heads-up. \u201cNot the greatest call to get, but I appreciate it.\u201d<\/p>\n
I told her it was the least I could do. Then I told her not to say anything to him. \u201cI want to find a good time to tell him. Tomorrow is Friday, so maybe after the weekend.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSure,\u201d she said, \u201cI\u2019ll get the news from Maddie.\u201d<\/p>\n
I spent that whole weekend messing with a wall at the professor\u2019s, trying to convince myself I was right about Cody, and that I\u2019d somehow be able to manage the rest of the summer without him, and that it wouldn\u2019t be a total pain to try and find someone new. I told myself to give him another week, which I did. I mentioned the shirt thing and it stopped. I gave him another week, and then another, and then he started being the first guy to show up every morning, and the last one to leave in the afternoons. Months later, just as we were getting caught up and the projects were tapering off, and I knew for sure I\u2019d have to let him go, my other guys both gave notice within the span of a few days\u2014one guy off to graduate school, another Alaska. I haven\u2019t needed anyone but Cody since.<\/p>\n
I whacked him hard on the shoulder with my gloves. The excavator was cresting the hill, and I had to raise my voice for him to hear. \u201cI mean it\u2019s about being scared,\u201d I said. \u201cIn every case, that\u2019s what it is.\u201d
\n\u201cThat\u2019s how I feel,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019m scared I don\u2019t love her anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, I mean it\u2019s about you being scared that she\u2019s actually going to love you back. That\u2019s the thing that\u2019s terrifying to us.\u201d<\/p>\n
Larry used the hood of my truck to write out the invoice. I stood next to him, my hip against the side panel. He had shaky penmanship, and his hand hovered above each letter for a second before he committed it to paper. He charged others differently, but for me it was just thirty bucks, however much I wanted to fill my truck with.<\/p>\n
\u201cSeems like the fishing went good today,\u201d he said. That\u2019s what he called my method\u2014fishing for rocks.
\n\u201cI\u2019m happy.\u201d<\/p>\n
Larry had a dozen or so years on me, harder wrinkles around his eyes. He was missing the top half of the pinkie and ring fingers on his left hand. He didn\u2019t wear a wedding band, but I wasn\u2019t sure if that was because of how that finger was, or if he just wasn\u2019t married, and I never asked. Something about him seemed religious, but I could\u2019ve just been misinterpreting that. His regular outfit consisted of logger pants and denim shirts, an old tin hardhat and steel-toed boots. He never took out his foam earplugs. They were creased and grease-stained, and as much as it was probably about the convenience of not having to fiddle with them, I also thought the earplugs were an indicator of what he thought about long-winded conversations.<\/p>\n
When he\u2019d first come up, he\u2019d used the excavator\u2019s bucket to claw through the rock pile, spreading out the stones so they\u2019d be easier for us to pick through. Now the excavator sat quiet, the bucket resting on the ground. Sometimes if he was busy, he just had me fill out the receipt and leave it in his plywood office. Larry drew a squiggly line down the amount column, putting the three-zero in the bottom corner. He tore the top copy free and handed it to me. He clicked his pen and retuned it to his shirt pocket. He had one of those vinyl deposit bags, and he zipped his receipt booklet back inside it.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd what about this guy?\u201d he said, watching Cody as he fished more. Larry had his elbows on the hood of the truck, taking some of the weight off his back, which seemed twisted and oak-like. \u201cHe doesn\u2019t want to quit.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHasn\u2019t caught his limit, I guess.\u201d<\/p>\n
Cody was supposed to hear us, was supposed to catch our smirks, but he just kept working. His head was bowed like someone searching for seashells on the beach. He already had the truck full.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis the same job,\u201d Larry asked, \u201cor something new?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSame one.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow much longer you on it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShould be the last load.\u201d I\u2019d already calculated what Cody and I had moved since the start of the job: ten tons, loaded and unloaded by hand. That didn\u2019t include the gravel we\u2019d shoveled.<\/p>\n
I hollered to Cody and told him we should start packing up. He had a last rock cradled in his arms, but decided against carrying it to the truck. He shot-putted it to the side, letting out a doofus grunt that echoed off the quarry\u2019s walls. Then he picked up the digging bar and lifted it above his head, pressing it like a barbell.<\/p>\n
Larry and I were shaking our heads. \u201cYouth,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
The hawk had returned. Its cry made me think of every Western I\u2019d ever seen as a kid, made me think the word parched.<\/p>\n
\u201cKnow why they do that?\u201d Larry asked. He\u2019d pushed himself up off his elbows and pointed the money pouch toward the sky.<\/p>\n
Sometimes when I thought about how much stone I\u2019d handled over the years, when I added up all those tons and tons of rock, it made me feel strong and solid, like I\u2019d actually accomplished something monumental. Other times, like when I thought about the pitifully low balance of my IRA and the incredibly high premium of my health insurance plan, or when I thought about the truck needing a new transmission, and how I\u2019d probably still be having to do this when that rebuild had finally burned out too\u2014the fatigue was crushing.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m guessing it has something to do with mating,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
\u201cNever a bad guess. Mating and territory. About explains everything.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cKeeps things simple, right?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBest way to keep it,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I was working behind the studio when Mr. Brucemore came and found me. The space back there was tight and crowded with loose stones. He\u2019d just gotten home from work and was still dressed in his suit coat and tie, was trying hard to keep from getting any mud on his shoes. \u201cWas wondering if we could check in quick,\u201d he said. \u201cNot a big deal or anything. Just wanted to go over some stuff out front.\u201d
\n\u201cOf course,\u201d I said. \u201cGive me two seconds.\u201d By how casual he was trying to sound, I could tell his not-a-big-deal was probably going to be a big deal.<\/p>\n
I stood with Graham by the newest section of wall, looking at the work that Cody had done that afternoon. The studio had been for Mrs. Brucemore and her recent interest in quilting. It was over fifteen hundred square feet and was cut into the hillside above the main house, which Cody had confused for a resort the first time he saw it. Our job was to put up retaining walls to cover the cut. The walls averaged over four-feet high, ran from the back of the studio and around to the driveway, where we were also recessing in a staircase and adding a couple of terraced planting beds.<\/p>\n
\u201cSee how it dips and bulges there?\u201d Graham was drawing a big circle with his index finger around the uneven part. \u201cYou have this nice face along here,\u201d he said, \u201cand then this. Stands out as soon as you drive up.\u201d I could see exactly what he was talking about. Most people wouldn\u2019t have, but Graham was the kind of guy who studied a little bit of everything and wasn\u2019t afraid to let you know what he\u2019d found out.<\/p>\n
It was already after five. Cody was cleaning up the work area, stacking all the tools in the wheelbarrow. He kept glancing our way, his expression worried. I wondered if Graham had already said something to him. Cody got out the push broom and was about to come over, but I held up my hand for him to wait.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd then there are these seams,\u201d Graham continued. \u201cThis one runs almost half the height.\u201d He\u2019d gotten right up to the wall now, was running his hand up and down the seams he was talking about\u2014spots were Cody hadn\u2019t staggered his rocks and interlocked them together, but had instead left long vertical joints that\u2019d collapse over time. \u201cThat\u2019s not what I\u2019m supposed to be paying for.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAbsolutely not,\u201d I said. I still didn\u2019t exactly know how Graham had made all his money, except that it had something to do with gypsum board and China. I\u2019d done several sizable projects for him and his wife over the years, and had gotten fairly good at navigating their temperaments. He\u2019d once mentioned having just been to his high school reunion, so I knew that\u2019d we\u2019d both gone to school around the same time. In another version, this could\u2019ve been my life. The BMW and sunroof. The trophy wife. The grandkids.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not sure what happened here,\u201d I said. \u201cThis isn\u2019t Cody\u2019s usual work.\u201d That was the truth.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know, Dan, you\u2019re a real master at this stuff. That\u2019s why I hire you. You do beautiful work. I would think you should be doing the more prominent area out front, and giving your helper the wall in the back, which no one will see.\u201d<\/p>\n
He was right that it was the least visible aspect, but I didn\u2019t know how many times I\u2019d explained to him that the wall behind the studio was the most complicated and structurally challenging piece of the job, the part that would take the most mastery. When people looked at rock walls, all they usually thought about were the face stones, or what they could see. What they never considered was how much work had to go into preparing the foundation, or how important the hearting was, which are the smaller stones used to fill in the gaps inside the wall. It was all the little stuff you couldn\u2019t see that made a wall so lasting.<\/p>\n
\u201cHiring me means hiring my crew,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
\u201cI realize that. I just\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
Cody looked unsettled. He started walking over to us, the push broom angled over his shoulder. I should\u2019ve just let him come over and hear it. He\u2019d been inattentive, and the wall was full of rookie mistakes, mistakes he hadn\u2019t been making anymore. If he ever went out on his own, this is the shit he\u2019d have to deal with. Sometimes it was important to make people aware of their mistakes, so they knew, but other times it was more important to just let people be, so they\u2019d be unafraid about screwing up next time.<\/p>\n
I took Graham over to the other side of the driveway. \u201cLook,\u201d I said. \u201cCody does good work. Obviously, today was errant. But I will point this out to him, and we\u2019ll get it fixed.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI want to make sure you\u2019re the one building it.\u201d<\/p>\n
From the Brucemore\u2019s driveway, you could see down the valley for miles, past the city and the suburbs, past the clear-cuts and the reservoir, all the way to the Coast Range. It was the same view the Brucemore\u2019s enjoyed from their back patio, where I\u2019d previously built Graham a teeing pad. The pad was terraced off the edge of their perfectly green lawn, which rolled away sharply into a large meadow. Sometimes, if I was working at their place and no one was home, and I was in one of those moods, I\u2019d let myself into their garage and grab the 3 Wood from Graham\u2019s bag, some balls from his bucket, and I\u2019d take a few swings after lunch. I was a shitty golfer, but from a perch like that, the balls just sailed.<\/p>\n
\u201cCody and I will do it together, but I will be right there the whole time.\u201d<\/p>\n
Graham stood with his arms crossed, had a little scowl on his face as he stared at the ground. \u201cI don\u2019t want this to put us over budget.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot a chance,\u201d I said. \u201cI\u2019ll eat this.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t mean to be a pain about it,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cNot at all,\u201d I said. \u201cActually, I really appreciate you pointing it out. You\u2019ve got a good eye. Maybe I should recruit you.\u201d It was all bullshit.<\/p>\n
\u201cI could never do this,\u201d he said. I wondered if he\u2019d actually meant would never and wanted him to elaborate. His expression seemed brighter, and I sensed that he gotten what he\u2019d wanted, which was the same thing every client wanted\u2014the sense that they were actually building the thing themselves, and not just purchasing it.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, it\u2019s not for everyone,\u201d I admitted. I shook his hand. His nails were immaculate.<\/p>\n
For some reason, he said, \u201cTerrific.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
On the way into town, instead of our normal route, I took Cody up Loraine Street and over to Crest so I could show him one of my older projects. It was the wall I was building when I first started sleeping with Trish, but before Colleen found out, when I thought I had everything handled, even though things were already crashing to the ground. I didn\u2019t say any of that to Cody. I said, \u201cIt\u2019s just this wall you should see.\u201d<\/p>\n
As we\u2019d been leaving the Brucemore\u2019s, Cody had asked what Graham\u2019s deal was. He said Graham had been totally uptight with him. \u201cI felt like I\u2019d fucked something up.\u201d<\/p>\n
I told Cody that Graham had only been asking about differences in the rock. And that the rest of it had been Graham and I going over the timeline for the remaining work. \u201cA manager needs to feel like he\u2019s managing things,\u201d I said, \u201cthat\u2019s all.\u201d I wasn\u2019t even sure if Graham was actually a manager. Cody nodded and seemed to believe me.<\/p>\n
At the wall on Crest, I parked in the turnout across the street. The weeping Japanese maple I\u2019d suggested had grown in substantially over the years, hiding a good bit of the rock. The house was new when I\u2019d built the wall, with owners who wanted to get placed on the Home and Garden Tour. I\u2019d mostly used stone from Larry\u2019s, but I\u2019d also done these circular inlays with some tumbled river rock that I\u2019d had shipped in. The rock had a watery, blue hue. The red leaves made a striking contrast.<\/p>\n
\u201cWow,\u201d Cody said. He\u2019d unbuckled his seatbelt and was leaning forward so he could see past me. \u201cYou did this?\u201d<\/p>\n
I told him I had. \u201cThis was a special one,\u201d I said. Colleen\u2019s dad had helped me with the money to get my contractor\u2019s license, and it was one of my first real gigs. The tour got me a lot of work after that.<\/p>\n
\u201cMan, it\u2019s detailed. It must have taken awhile.\u201d You couldn\u2019t see it, but around the corner, three massive basalt columns punctuated the wall, one for each member of the young family. I told them to contact me if they ever added more and it needed to be changed, but they never called. \u201cWe going to be doing something like this?\u201d Cody asked. \u201cIs that why you wanted me to see it?\u201d<\/p>\n
I told him I wasn\u2019t sure I\u2019d ever do a project like it again. It\u2019d taken me over two months, and some of those days I\u2019d worked until dark, trying to get everything done before the tour. I had a buddy who I\u2019d hired to help me move rock, but mostly I worked solo. Sometimes Trish came by on her lunch break, parked right in the very same turnout Cody and I were using, and I\u2019d run over and get in and tilt the seat back. A couple of times, we rushed to her place, or drove out to this private dead-end off Big Brook, and when I came back, scrambled a million ways, the rocks spoke to me. Almost unconsciously, I\u2019d go to the pile and just pick up whatever rock was telling me it wanted to be picked up. I\u2019d go to the wall, and there it would fit\u2014different stones, from different layers of geologic time, matching together as if they were two halves of one piece. It was a kind of clarity and grace that I mistakenly thought blessed every aspect of my life back then.<\/p>\n
\u201cI guess our conversation at the quarry got me thinking about this one,\u201d I said. \u201cThought it\u2019d be good for you to see, show you something different.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah,\u201d Cody said, \u201cI like it.\u201d<\/p>\n
I used to be able to remember so many details about some of the stones in that wall\u2014could remember where I\u2019d gotten them at the quarry, could remember if I\u2019d had to dig for them, like Cody and I had earlier, or if they were just sitting right there waiting for me, like gifts. But rocks have a way of disappearing into a wall, just like walls have a way of disappearing into the world, and moments into life, and now all I remembered was Trish and Colleen and my old self. How even after Colleen said we\u2019d work through it, I told her I wanted a divorce, something I immediately tried to take back. How once you shatter a rock, it\u2019s shattered forever.<\/p>\n
I was just about to start the truck when Cody got a text from Maddie. \u201cI need to get you back home,\u201d I said, \u201cdon\u2019t I?\u201d She\u2019d texted earlier, on the way out of the quarry. She\u2019d aced a Chemistry test and wanted to celebrate. She\u2019d stopped at the store for beer and wine and all the stuff for burgers. She wanted to make sure that I knew I was invited. Her sisters were coming, and Cody\u2019s pal, Diego, he\u2019d probably show too.<\/p>\n
Cody typed something into his phone. \u201cWe\u2019ve got time,\u201d he said. \u201cI guess they\u2019re just starting to make the patties.\u201d<\/p>\n
I eased the truck onto the road. Cody continued texting with his future-wife. I\u2019d never given him an answer on whether or not I was coming, and I was hoping I wouldn\u2019t have to. When he\u2019d announced the invite, I\u2019d asked if it was going to just be the sisters, or if the boyfriends and husbands were also coming. Cody wasn\u2019t sure about Kelly, Maddie\u2019s oldest sister, and her husband, but Trish\u2014Cody didn\u2019t think Trish was seeing anyone anymore.<\/p>\n
Back at the stockyard, where Cody\u2019s ratty Corolla was parked, he finally prodded me. \u201cWhat do you think? Want to come over and eat some meat and drink some beers?\u201d<\/p>\n
I told him it sounded great, but that once I got home and took a shower, this old man probably wasn\u2019t going to have the energy to make it anywhere past the couch. \u201cQuarry day,\u201d I explained.<\/p>\n
He said he understood, but that I should still come by if I felt up to it. No one would complain if I didn\u2019t shower first. He pulled his car keys from his backpack, zipped the bag back up, and slid it over his shoulder.<\/p>\n
\u201cCody,\u201d I said, just as he was about to leave. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you meet me out at the site tomorrow? I\u2019ll go out and get started, and then you and I can finish up the rest of that front wall.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah?\u201d he asked. \u201cWhat are you thinking?\u201d<\/p>\n
I told him to celebrate with Maddie, to have a few for me, to sleep in a bit. We usually started at seven.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow about I see you around nine?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI can do nine,\u201d he said. \u201cEasily.\u201d<\/p>\n
I told him he\u2019d done a good job that day, and then we both headed off. He double-tapped his horn as he left. I was exhausted. Larry thought life was all mating and territory, and that probably was true, but I also thought life boiled down to something else: tearing things apart and trying to rebuild them better. The only trick was learning what never needed to be torn down in the first place.<\/p>\n
In the morning, I\u2019d get up at my normal time, and do my normal stuff, and then I\u2019d head out to the Brucemore\u2019s. I\u2019d take apart Cody\u2019s work and then try to build it stronger. I\u2019d add enough new wall so that by the time he got out there, he wouldn\u2019t even notice that anything had changed.
\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
When I asked, Cody told me he liked to take the back roads to the quarry because they took longer. \u201cMore time getting paid to sit down,\u201d he said. I\u2019d let him drive so I could pencil out a new bid. We were just north of Greenfield, past the tree nurseries and orchards, about to […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-13196","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","writer-eliot-treichel"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13196","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=13196"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13196\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":13197,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13196\/revisions\/13197"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=13196"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=13196"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=13196"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}