“The usual. My heart nearly blew up, I died of malnutrition, I invited the crew out to drinks, and then Tom’s head exploded.” I don’t hide my heart stuff from Truly, because she doesn’t lecture me about it.
I hear the sound of a sewing machine on the other end. “Drinks? Already? Aren’t they there for months?”
“Yes, but I was trying to bring a little fun into this.”
The whirring stops and starts. “You’d be making them all think this whole project is going to be easy and fun, when it’s not. They wouldn’t take it as seriously.”
“I want to create a team vibe.”
“You can probably think of ways for everyone to feel happy to be on this project without plying them with drinks. That’s kind of your default setting.”
“I’m a bartender.” This is not going how I thought it would.
“You don’t need to be on twenty-four/seven bartender mode when you’re not on shift. Just … be yourself for once. The real you. You know what I do when I make a mistake when sewing?”
“You have a complete mental and emotional breakdown. No wait, that’s me.” I sit on the edge of my bed and heave a sigh. “Jamie would love it if I quit.”
“When I make a mistake, I unpick it and I keep on sewing. And hey, Darce? You’re not a bartender. You’re a photographer. I wish you’d believe it again.”
I dolefully look up at the flash mob forming around Tom. “I keep trying to help, but it always ends badly. I’m beginning to think the best way might be to just stay off-site as much as I can.”
Truly sighs. “I’m on your side. Always and forever. But this job is about you actually staying for something big and finishing it. I love you, but that’s not what you’re generally known for.”
I’m stung. “I did weddings for how many years? I always showed up for them.”
“But you need to start looking at the bigger picture. Where’s your business now? You pressed the button and imploded that, just because you screwed up one time and that bride trashed you online.” More sewing noises. “You broke your own heart on that, and you need to forgive yourself for it.”
I chew my thumbnail and stubbornly say nothing.
“Just go and unpick your mistake and keep on sewing. He is not coping, Darce, that much is painfully obvious. Find out what you can do for him and do it.”
I pull open the sliding door and the sound causes half of the crew to look around. Fuck it. Let’s see if I can unpick this.
“Hey, guys, a quick word.” I try to not notice how Tom’s arms have crossed, his face taking on a careful, neutral expression. He’s expecting a blaze of glory right now.
“So I jumped the gun earlier. Apparently, you have the end-of-job party at the end of the job.” There’s laughter. “My bad. I’ll order pizza for everyone tomorrow. Eating it here with no alcohol whatsoever. Then we all resume working our asses off. That’s my best offer.”
There’s no grumbling. In fact, they cheer, a big a-heeeeey!
That’s because pizza is a precious natural resource. It can heal tiredness, bad mood, falling morale, and a fading will to live. Pizza realigns the heart chakras. It can make Tom’s arms loosen and drop to his sides. It can make his eyes spark with humor. He smiles and shakes his head.
It makes him look at me like he loves me again, and that’s why pizza is the greatest.
“Okay. Pizza party on Friday. Now get your asses back to work. That means you too, Darcy.”
Late in the afternoon, Tom approaches me. He’s tired, with paperwork in his hands. His phone has been crying like a baby all afternoon. “I’m going down to the gym to take a shower.”
I want to thank him for the mental image. “The gym has a pool, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t have time.”
“Get in the water. Even ten minutes. It’s what you need.” He needs time. How can I give him more time? Come on, Loretta. Give me a sign. What can I do? How can I instill a bit of calm in his life?
His phone begins ringing, and it becomes so obvious I want to slap myself. I put my arms around his waist and pull his phone from his back pocket.
“Valeska Building Services. Darcy speaking. Yep, I can get back to you on that.” I pull a piece of paper from my back pocket and write, Tile color? “Yep. In the morning. Bye.”
He stares at me. I have no idea if I’m about to be screamed at.
The phone rings again. “I’d better buy a notepad. Valeska Building Services. Darcy speaking. What? Alex. I’m answering Tom’s phone from now on. If you left your phone here, it stays here until the morning. I don’t know! Watch TV. Yep. Bye.” I hang up. “No message required.”
“You’re not a secretary, you’re my client.” Tom grabs at it when it rings again. I hold up my finger and answer it again.
“Sure, but it’ll have to be the morning.” I write down, Rental equipment confirmation. “He’s finished for the day. Bye.”
I put his phone in my back pocket, and it feels like it belongs there.
“Go. If you don’t come back with chlorine on you, I’m going to be pissed off. I’ll clear your voicemail and write a list of questions for you. I’ll call them back. It’s going to be okay.”
“Darce.” His voice is wretched with gratitude and his body droops with exhaustion. He looks like he wants to get down on his knees and kiss the toe of my boot.
“Don’t cry.” I pat his shoulder. “It’s just a few messages.”
Chapter 16
It’s a late Friday night after my bar shift when I find Tom, still hard at work at his desk. Just the sight of him, sitting in the same room as my bed, crackles through my synapses and obliterates my exhaustion.
He looks up at me and his eyes don’t change. He’s exhausted.
“Hi. Did you call Terry back, by any chance?” He clenches his jaw to repress his yawn. I’m pretty sure I completely hallucinated that moment when he told me I was sexy.
“Yeah. That guy’s a jerk.” I unhook my earrings and toss my jacket on my bed. My feet ache. Scratch that: everything aches. I wonder if we have any pizza left over from our second Friday worksite pizza party. I’m a legend around these parts. I think if I don’t buy pizza again this week, I’ll break hearts.