“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” Kiernan said as he approached the stoop.
“I got a summons from the city.” Mary reached into the pocket of her jean jacket. She unfolded the letter she found there and handed it to Kiernan. “They tell me we have to fix the sidewalk. There have been complaints.”
“You don’t want anyone tripping on your sidewalk,” Kevin said, smiling. He might be around her age, but she couldn’t tell for sure.
“No, I don’t.” She smiled back at Kevin.
“You’ve got a crack here,” Kiernan said. “This has caused the concrete plate to buckle.”
“Can you patch it?” Mary asked.
“It’s been patched before. If I were you, I’d fix it once and be done with it. We need to take up the sidewalk and repour the concrete; otherwise, we’ll be back in a matter of months to fix it again. We’re going to have a bad winter.”
“I didn’t know,” Mary said. “How much will this cost?”
Kevin ran his hand through his hair. “You’re just like my wife; you want to know the bad news up front.”
Mary tried not to show that she was bummed that Kevin was married, but she should have known. Every month it seemed that more single men in her age category drained away from the pool of potential husbands. Mary Bennet was on the verge of giving up altogether.
“It’s just an estimate,” Kiernan began.
“An estimate is fine.” Mary looked at him. “I won’t hold you to it.”
“We have to break up the old sidewalk, replane the ground, and pour the concrete. Looks like the curb is crumbling, so we need to redo it. We have to bring a cement mixer in. Five thousand.”
“Five thousand dollars?” Mary said the number out loud.
It wasn’t lost on Mary that she would be earning the exact amount in prize money that it would take to fix the sidewalk. But whenshe called the city and reviewed the fines that awaited the Bennets if they did not fix the sidewalk, they were far worse. Mary understood they would be saving money in the long run if they did the job once and properly.
Her father suggested a patch job, but Mary ignored him. “Dad, we can’t wait on this. We’ve been kicking the can down the road for so long, we’ll never find it,” she told him. Mary was tired of fixing things only to last long enough for them to go bust again. The city of New York had a policy that the sidewalk and curb in front of a landlord-owned building was the responsibility of the homeowner. Mary could not bear the thought of someone tripping and falling because of fissures and cracks in the sidewalk. The Bennets could lose everything with one lawsuit. The reality weighed on Mary.
Mary put in her earbuds and listened to a podcast about the Brontë sisters as she washed the iron skillet and pans she’d used to make breakfast. She folded the dish towel and hung it on the hook when she felt the house shake. One jolt overhead.
She pulled the earbuds out of her ears and raced up the stairs. Her mother was screaming while her father lay on the floor next to the bed. Mary went to him. “Dad?”
He mumbled something, but Mary could not make it out over her mother’s hysterics. She dialed 911. She informed the operator of her father’s condition and their address. Mary turned to her mother.
“Not now, Ma. Enough with the drama,” Mary said to her mother. She knelt next to her father. “The ambulance is on the way. Don’t try to move, Dad.”
“Ugh,” Mr. Bennet moaned.
Mary looked over at the breakfast tray, untouched by her father and mother.
“I’m getting dressed.” Mrs. Bennet got up from the bed. “Do not try and stop me.”
DR. MARTINELLI
Mary handed her mother a cup of coffee. Mrs. Bennet wrapped her hands around the paper cup and sipped.
“Here’s a cookie,” Mary said, placing it on the table next to her in the waiting room. “In lieu of a proper breakfast.”
“Who can eat? Who can think about eating? This is the end,” Mrs. Bennet said as she stared off in the middle distance. She picked up the cookie and nibbled a corner of it. “Your poor father.”
“He’s not poor, and this isn’t the end.”
“The day I dreaded has come,” Mrs. Bennet said wearily, ignoring her.
“That would be every single day, Ma,” Mary countered.
