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“Anything else?” I respond. To me, it sounds like a typical day on the job.
I remember when I was a foreman. It was tough. Everything that went wrong with my crew came down on me. And I remember my boss being unequivocally unbending, but it taught me well. Kept me responsible and with a good head on my shoulders. He’s exactly what I needed when I was trying to manage a stable life for my new family.
He taught me a lot in the six months I was there, or at least in the six months I was able to work under him. Worked my ass off every day of it. To this day I try to manage my company the same way he did his. And because I developed that same adamant and strict tendencies, my foreman is not going to like what I’m about to say.
“Anything else? Nolan, are you implying that this isn’t that big of a deal?” Josh sounds like he’s running a track when he responds to me, like he’s out of breath.
“Josh, you’re my foreman on this for a reason. Now, Shipman expects the building to be done in two months. Their grand opening can’t be pushed back again. We can manage this. It’s just a bad day. I’ll try to reach out to Harrison for you, and if I can’t get a hold of Harrison, I’ll get someone from the Geo project to assist with delivery, but the rest is on you. Have Derrick reach out to the cement company and see if they can get someone out there to assist with that issue. Mario is going to have to lead the rebuild on what he destroyed. That shit happens. But you can’t be freaking out like this. Those guys need to know they can trust and believe that their leader can handle this shit.” I let him take in what I just said, and I wait for a response.
He lets out a deep breath.
“Fuck. You’re right. Sorry, dude. I’ll take care of it. It’s just the biggest project you’ve put me on, and I don’t want to fuck this up.” He sounds calmer than before, and I’m surprised at how easy that was. I was expecting him to put up a fight; I know I always did.
“Oh, you’ll fuck it up alright. But that’s construction for you. It can be fixed. I learned that the hard way.” Reassuring someone is something I’ve learned to perfect over the years—I have a little girl who looks up to me after all. I’m always trying to model good behavior and morals. Hard work and dedication are just a few that I like to display.
“You’re right. Sorry, man. Who knew you were such a Bob-The-Builder type of guy,” he chuckles under his breath. “But what about the rain that’s supposed to happen this weekend. It sounds like it could fuck some plans up for us.”
“We’ll figure it out. It’s Thursday, rain won’t come till Saturday. We’ve got a few days to get as much done and get us in a good enough spot that won’t be ruined by the rain. I’ll be on site tomorrow to help.” Rain means wet. And wet isn’t good at construction sites, especially with the kind of spring storm they’re predicting this weekend.
“All this for a shipping supply store?” He laughs manically.
“I don’t question the jobs we get. Money is money, but the work has to be done.”
“Thanks, Nolan. I’ll get the rest taken care of.”
So much filters though my head as I sit at my desk. Like all the shit I have to take care of today. But for some reason, I can’t concentrate. All I can see is fiery orange hair and grass-green eyes.
I will my suddenly alive cock to behave itself.
Focus. You’ve got shit to do.
After hours of planning, financial meetings, check-in calls to the other sites, and filing papers, I realize it’s nearing three in the afternoon. Meaning I need to head out to pick up Aria. But before I can gather the rest of my things, my phone rings.
My heart drops like a ton of bricks when I see who is calling.
Jessica.
I don’t like this one bit. We haven’t talked much since the final divorce hearing a few months ago. We only ever discuss parenting and Aria’s needs, so her calling me can’t be good.
“Hello,” I say indifferently, trying not to sound too annoyed.
“Hey, Nolan. It’s Jess.” Her voice is low and timid. Not like her at all.
“Yes, I know. What’s up?”
“Well, I ran into an issue with my schedule at work this weekend. I know I’m supposed to pick her up Saturday, but I have to work Saturday night at the restaurant, and I couldn’t get a babysitter in time and my parents are out of town. Is there any way you can hang on to her till Sunday morning?”
The parenting schedule we agreed to was alternating weeks. Saturday through Saturday, one week on then one week off. But more often than not, she has conflicting issues with her availability at work, which in turn, fucks with her availability to be a mom and leads to me having Aria more.
Scratch that, I don’t want to put it that way. Because I know that the divorce meant that she actually had to get a job, seeing as I allowed her to be a stay at home mom during our marriage; she’d said she’d always dreamt of being the kind of woman who’d stay home with the kids and have dinner ready for her husband when he’d come home. And I didn’t mind giving her what she’d ask for, but that was until I realized that she used those excuses as just that…excuses. All she ended up doing was partying and drinking. I never asked for much, and I never had an issue taking on the responsibilities I needed to and never complained that she was never home. Though I feel like I should have at least said something because now it’s like she can’t grasp the sense of responsibility. She’d said that having a child so young took away some of her prime years, whatever the fuck that meant.
I don’t want to discredit her as a mother because Aria loves her mom. I just know that Jessica is not who I would have picked to be the mother of my child if I’d known then what I do now. But that’s life.
Her breathing reminds me that she asked me a question.
“That’s not a problem. I’ll meet you same time Sunday morning then,” I respond.
“Thanks, Nol.” The phone goes silent but neither of us hang up.
