“You ready?” he called.
“Yep.”
I heard a gurgling sound, and then hot water poured from the hose into the snow, causing it to melt and steam.
“This’ll take a few minutes, then I can get started on disconnecting the pipes.”
I nodded, and my stomach rumbled loudly. “Sorry,” I mumbled, embarrassed.
“That’s all right; I’m getting hungry myself.”
“You want some dinner? I was going to make something anyway, and it seems like this’ll take a while.”
He looked torn. “Well, that’s real nice, but I don’t want to be a bother.”
I shrugged. “I’m cooking anyway. It’s not hard to make a little more.”
He hesitated a moment longer. “All right; I’d like that.”
“Do you eat meat?” I asked, then realized that sounded rude. “I mean, are you a vegetarian or anything? I was going to make burgers.”
He laughed. “No—definitely not a vegetarian.”
I headed into the kitchen, pulled out the frying pan, and started cooking bacon. Periodically, I heard clunks and clanks from the laundry room, and occasionally saw him step out to his truck. Every time he passed he’d smile and do this funny little half bow.
While the burgers were finishing up, I pulled out the bread and a bunch of condiments and plates and silverware and set the table, figuring we could be at least somewhat civilized.
I went over to the laundry room and leaned against the door frame. “How’s it going?”
He was lying on his back with his hands reaching under the water heater, a determined look on his face.
“This is a really old unit. I’ve never seen one this ornery before; these screws are practically melted to the frame.”
His arms strained and his whole body seemed to hum with tension as he tried to turn a wrench at a very awkward and uncomfortable angle on the underside of the heater.
“Would you like a break? Dinner’s just about ready.”
He let his arms fall on his stomach and smiled up at me. “Sounds great.”
I smiled back as he heaved himself up and followed me into the kitchen. It was well past dark now, and I went to close the front door and the windows. “There’s cold soda and other drinks in the fridge; grab whatever you’d like.”
He turned to the sink and washed his hands and then poured himself a glass of orange juice from the fridge. I closed the last window and came back, flipping each bacon-and-cheese-covered burger onto a bun. He waited until I sat down before he allowed himself to sit, and then took his hat off out of politeness. I couldn’t help but smile.
I was about to eat when I saw him close his eyes and bow his head, so I waited for him to finish praying.
We ate in silence for a few moments. Finally, he cleared his throat. “So what are you studying?”
I looked at him strangely. “Lots of things…”
Now he looked at me strangely. “Where do you go?”
“Warren County,” I replied.
“Oh,” he said, looking surprised. “I’m sorry; I assumed you were in college. You don’t look like a high school student.”
“Oh, well…” I trailed off, feeling kind of embarrassed and flattered at the same time. “Where do you go?”
“Schenectady Community College, part time. I do this to pay for tuition. Do you have any plans after high school?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure, exactly. I might have an internship waiting for me, but…”
“What?”
But with Adrian and I no longer “dating” I had no idea if the internship was still available. And it felt pretentious to say that I wanted to be a clothing designer, at least here where manual labor was the norm.
“Come on, it can’t be that embarrassing.”
I rolled my eyes. “All right, I want to be a designer.”
“Really?” He looked surprised, but not in a condescending way. “Are you any good?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure. My mom was really good, and she taught me everything I know.”
“Was?”
I smiled in that way people smile when someone doesn’t realize they’ve asked a touchy question. “Yeah, she died a couple months ago.”
“Oh,” he said, looking mortified, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine,” I interrupted.
“Even so, it’s none of my business. I’m sorry.”
“Seriously, it’s all right,” I said, throat tight. I was still so tired that I was on the verge of tears pretty much all the time. “Let’s just talk about something else. What do you want to be?”
He twirled his fork. “I’m not sure, exactly. I mean, I’m good at plumbing—sort of a family trade—I could make a living off it if I wanted, I just don’t really think it’s what I’m supposed to do, you know? And my dad, he really wanted me to take over the business, and I feel like since…” His voice trailed off and he looked far away for a few moments.
I stared at him. “You all right?”
“What?” He looked back at me like he’d forgotten I was there. “Oh, yeah. I just…”