“She ain’t just another applicant,” I said finally. “I don’t know why, but somethin’ about her… she needs this.”
“Alright. You’re serious. You front the gap, and we’ll make it happen.” Ron sighed, rubbing his temples.
“You serious?”
“Yeah, and you’re leading the job. I’ll draft the override request and flag it for board review. But listen, this ain’t no play job. This is going to require full oversight. That means permits, crews, vendors—hell, even the paint if it comes down to it. We got six months to close it out, tops.”
“I got it!” I replied.
“This woman must be some kind of special.” Ronald narrowed his eyes at me, a hint of amusement in his tone.
“What you talkin’ ’bout?”
“I’ve been on this Earth about ten years longer than you, young buck, and I been doing construction for a while. Only a special type of woman will have you in here pacing, pushing papers at me, and offering your own damn money.”
I shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “It’s not like that.”
“Uh-huh. You keep telling yourself that,” he said with a smirk.
“I just saw someone in need and extended the help. That house ain’t safe, not for someone in her condition livin’ alone.”
Ron nodded slowly as he leaned back in his chair. “Alright. You got the green light to start next week.”
“Bet.” I stood, grabbing her file off the desk. My head was already spinning with layouts and doorframe expansions.
“Aye, Quade.” Ron spoke up as I hit the door.
I paused and turned to look in his direction.
“I’m here if you need me.”
I nodded before stepping out. I walked down the long hallway toward the little table cubicle that was serving as my office. I wasn’t wasting time. Dropping into my chair and pulling up her file on my work laptop, I scanned it again before starting a new file for measurements and notes on the remodel. She needed everything: widened doorways, a new kitchen and bathroom layout, a properly leveled ramp, and new handrails.
I should’ve been overwhelmed about taking on such a big job, but all I felt was determination. I wanted to do this. I opened a blank notebook and started sketching ideas, zoning in on how to keep the design functional without turning her home into a damn hospital room. Then there was the fact that her house was older. I needed to be careful so I wouldn’t destroy her home. I saw in the file that it was special to her, her grandparents’ home. There was history in those walls, and I didn’t want to erase it, just make room for her to live there safely.
My pencil slowed as I glanced at the photo clipped to the back of her file. It was of her in the kitchen. The sun was hitting her face just right, showcasing her beauty. Shit, I couldn’t get the image of her out of my head. I almost felt like a creep, but I couldn’t shake that there was something about her that had caught my attention. Putting the pencil down, I sat back in my chair, and without thinking, I caught myself pulling out my phone and typing her name into the search bar. Curiosity got the best of my ass, had me in here acting like I didn’t have ten other things to do, like I was a damn stalker.
It took a little scrolling, but at the bottom of the page, there it was: a link to her PicsGram. I tapped that motherfucker quick, taking me to her profile. The first image that popped up was of her standing in front of a mural. I kept scrolling, taking it all in. Most of the recent posts were just of her art, a few beautiful images of black women, men, and children. It was beautiful. The further down I scrolled, the more photos I saw of her, shots of her smiling, hands covered in paint, standing beside her work. She looked alive in those pictures, happy and hopeful.
My breath caught when I saw one from five years ago. She was standing in an art gallery. Her head tossed back, showing off her beautiful smile. She was wearing an oversized tee and ripped jeans, her hair still cut in that short curly pixie, skin glowing. No wheelchair. No pain in her eyes.
I didn’t know what happened in between this photo and today, but whatever it was, it hadn’t dimmed her light, even though it probably tried. Nah, I still saw it. I saw her in the back of my mind like she was setting up residence there. I kept going back to how she didn’t look at me with pity. She didn’t fan out when she recognized me either. No judgment. No weirdness. And damn, if that didn’t stick with me more than it should have.
I clicked off her profile and glanced back over at her file, staring at her phone number. The urge to call her tonight washeavy on my heart. I stared at it for a second. My thumb was hovering.
“Nah, wait,” I whispered to myself. I wasn’t calling tonight. It was past business hours. “Tomorrow.”
Tomorrow I’d reach out to her, give her the good news, and set up a walkthrough. Keep it professional. I opened my PicsGram app again, and her profile was still pulled up. I didn’t care if I had to show up at her house by myself every day and fix everything with my bare hands. She was going to get the house she deserved.
“Teagan! Can you get that?”I hollered from the bathroom as the sound of my phone rang out from the dining room table. I was just starting on my morning routine. I’d just opened the medicine cabinet to pop my meds.
“I got it!” Teagan yelled back. I could hear her footsteps, then the sound of her snatching up the phone and offering a sweet hello to the caller. There was a moment of silence, then she peeked into the bathroom, holding the phone out toward me with a silly smirk on her face.
“Who is it?” I asked, confused about who could be calling so early in the morning. The sun was barely up.
“I don’t know, but he sounds sexy,” she replied, making me shake my head. I was glad she had her hand placed over the speaker.
“It’s a man?” My eyes widened, confused. “Is it Shawn?” It had to be. He was the only man outside of my doctor who called my phone.
