Chapter 4: Stairway to Heaven
376 Words
Chapter 4: Stairway to Heaven
October 7, 2015
The stairway’s frame was semi-built. Twelve steps rose off the ground, and midway up, fifteen more steps veered to the right. The wood was oak with rounded edges. The stairwell’s base structure was cemented into the ground to keep it sturdy. A railing was currently being constructed on both sides of the rising frame, but had yet to be completed.
The labor was intense: measuring the lumber for accurate cuts, sawing the wood, carrying it, and nailing it together to build something that I appreciated and would use each and every day. I helped Carl construct its frame, piece by piece, minute by minute at his side, learning about angles, types of wood, the use of various tools, and basic construction skills. Our progress was slow but meticulous. And even I admitted that the structure was coming together in just a few days.
We worked from early in the morning until four in the afternoon. Both of us were hungry and exhausted. Our hands and backs ached, but neither of us complained. Rather, we popped two aspirin each, and dealt with the pain, unchallenged.
* * * *
When the stairwell was just about finished, we stood chest to chest, almost hugging. Both of us were sweaty, exhausted, and out of breath. He placed his palms on my shoulders and said, “We deserve a beer.”
I shook my head. “You mean a martini.”
“Yeah. A martini. Whatever it takes.”
And then we said in unison, “Nicely done,” and hugged, but only in a friendly way that stated we had accomplished a task together, side by side, reaching a final goal.
I welcomed him inside my room, through the window, and we had a couple of martinis each, and for the next hour we discussed when he was going to install the doorway with a real knob and lock. He said playfully, “And if I you’re lucky, you get a window in the door.”
“I feel pretty lucky,” I replied.
“I’m sure you do.”
* * * *
Did we kiss? No, but I wanted to? Did he flirt with me? I think so, but I was so bad at making that determination. Did he leave after his few martinis? Yes, by first shaking my right hand with his, and saying, “We make a pretty good team, Micah Berk. What do you think?”
We did, didn’t we?
Yes.
- Writer
