went in search of Dagger.
“When’s your buddy bringing his ladder?” I found him on the porch, flipping his cell phone closed.
“Said he’d drop it off tonight. I’m working late at the pizzeria, so I won’t be here. Can you meet him?” When he wasn’t speaking the lingo of his ’hood, Dagger sounded like any other surfer dude.
I glanced down the street. The heat of a California autumn rose in waves from the pavement. Birds in tree branches sang at the top of their voices. Perhaps they were praying for rain.
I nodded in Dagger’s direction. “Yeah. I’ll be around.” Inside, I took a last look. One more coat of paint later that afternoon and we’d be done. I tidied up the supplies and went to class, doodling while the youngish prof jotted his points on the whiteboard.
My pen slid to a halt. According to Denton, my atom bomb lifestyle is what had put my mind into cortisol- overdrive in the first place. Maybe I needed to take the processes being presented in class more seriously. More than my grades depended on it.
The instructor launched into a lecture. As I listened, I tried to imagine life without daily drama. Even in all the years I’d lived completely alone, I’d spent my energy rehashing the past, feeling guilty for the smallest mistakes, and crucifying myself over and over for the big ones. I didn’t need an audience to be a drama queen.
Then when I met Brad… At the very hint that things could ease into a comfortable, long-term relationship, I was running for cover, ramping up the drama, determined to escape a ho-hum, albeit peaceful, existence as Brad’s wife.
And I’d nearly succeeded at ruining things for myself. Brad’s patience and forbearance had kept intact the ties that bound us.
Then just when everything was about to go right… I rubbed at the ache in my arm that flared up every time I thought of Brad. I hadn’t asked for Frank Majestic’s drama in my life. It wasn’t fair that other people’s baggage kept showing up and wrecking things for me. Tuning in to the man at the podium, I wrote down the details that would help me take a deep breath and make better decisions next time around.
After class, I grabbed a salad at the cafeteria, then took the bus back to Rios Buena Suerta. The team had polished off most of the painting by the time I arrived. “Wow. It looks great.” I marveled at the transformation the once-dilapidated house had undergone. “Some family is going to be proud to call this place home.”
I helped Koby and Portia with the cleanup, rinsing the last of the brushes and laying them on the counter. “Why don’t you two go ahead and take off? I’ll shine the sink while I wait for the ladder.”
Roofs were technically off-limits to students in the Revamp Program. For safety’s sake, the department required the work to be contracted by professionals. But due to a localized construction boom, it was another week before the block of homes would be sealed from the elements. While House Numbers One, Two, and Three would hold up in bad weather, House Number Four wouldn’t be so lucky. The metal flashing around the chimney had peeled away in previous years, leaving easy access for the rain. To protect the work we’d done so far, we planned to plug the leak ourselves, at least temporarily.
“I’ll wait with you,” Celia said. “No one should be here alone past dark.”
I shook my head. “It won’t be long. Anyway, don’t you work in Dean Lester’s office tomorrow morning?”
She groaned. “And I’ve got a test to study for.”
“You go study. I can handle it.” I shooed them out the door and wiped the new stainless steel sink and fixtures until they shone. The wood floors were worn, but we’d taken out the squeak and put on a new coat of finish, which gave off a lustrous glow even in the dimming light. A good sweeping and the place would be ready for its new occupants.
I poked my head out the screen door. No ladder guys yet. I sat on the porch surround, dangling my feet as I waited. In the distance, over open water, lightning bolted across the sky.
I straightened. Maybe Mr. Kim was right. It only rained when you didn’t want it to. My thumbs twiddled with nervous energy. If the ladder would just get here, I could climb the roof and patch the leak before the downpour.
Lightning flashed again, followed by the rumble of thunder. My feet thudded impatiently. I’d almost given up hope when a pickup with a ladder strapped to its rack pealed around the corner and screeched to a halt at the curb.
Two swarthy men in blue jeans and tank tops got out, their skin darkly tanned. “You the one who needs the ladder?” the tallest of the two asked.
I gave a relieved smile. “You’re at the right place.”
“Where do you want it?”
I turned toward the house. “Right there on the side. I have to get up to the chimney.”
“Not tonight, I hope. There’s a storm coming.” The tall man unfastened the rope and slid the ladder down. The other caught one end, and between them, they moved it into place.
“Thank you so much,” I said over the crank of the engine. An arm waved out the window as the truck did a U- turn and headed toward the main road.
I checked the western sky. Giant black clouds blotted out the last rays of sun, bringing on night like the drop of a curtain.
The chimney made a desperate sentinel alone in the center of the roof. There would never be enough time to seal the leak now. But if I draped the stones with a drop cloth, there might be enough protection to keep out the storm. I grabbed duct tape and the plastic and climbed the first rung… then the second… Halfway up, the ladder shifted. I leaned in the other direction to compensate. The ladder stabilized. Heart pounding, I took another step. My stomach knotted as I reached the top rung and the steep incline of the roof. Earlier, the guys had cast a rope over the peak, then thrown it back over, looping it around the chimney. The theory had been to provide a handhold for Dagger, who’d volunteered to make the climb. Too bad for me the rain decided to show up earlier than expected. Finding the twin lengths that dangled all the way to the ground, I hoisted myself toward the bricks like a mountain climber conquering Mt. Everest. At the top, I pressed my cheeks to the chimney, praying God would overlook my stupidity in tackling this project alone.
Lightning flashed directly above me. I cringed at my decision to climb a rooftop in a thunderstorm. If Denton could see me now, he’d throw me off the project. If Brad could see me now…
I didn’t want to go that route. At the moment I could only hope to live to see Brad.
Straddling the peak, I tossed a corner of plastic over the chimney. The wind caught the edge, blowing it back in my face. I stood and tried again, legs shaky beneath me. I managed to get the sheeting over the stones. With a pull, the material tightened. I stuck tape to the plastic and wound it around. By the time I was done, the chimney looked like I’d taken it hostage.
Satisfied, I took a breather with my back against the stones. A raindrop landed on my cheek. Then the plastic beneath me crinkled. Surprised, I twisted to find the source of the movement.
The rope.
In the near blackness, one side sped up toward the chimney, while the other rushed down toward the ledge.
I gave a shout as I realized my sole means of getting off the roof safely was quickly disappearing. I made a grab for it, but the plastic interfered and the fibers slipped through my grasp.
What was happening? It was as if someone on the ground was trying to strand me on the roof.
“Hey, stop! I’m up here!” I screamed, my voice billowing in a thousand directions in the storm.
The end of the rope slid past. I instinctively made a grab for it, clenching the final three inches in my hands for less than a second as it continued with force on its way to the ground.
“Hey!” I screamed again, hoping for mercy. “Help! I’m up here!”
In desperation, I calculated the trajectory of my body in a slide down the roof. With friction, wind direction, and speed taken into consideration, the chances of landing at the top rung of the ladder without toppling to the ground were basically nil.
And yet at this point, with rain about to ruin my chance of escape, a good dose of lunacy was my only
