The sun shone into the building's courtyard, bringing the rose colored walls alive with warmth. Everything was beautiful. The courtyard had all manner of flowers and bushes, arranged to form a circular seating area where the tenants could sit on the benches or lie down on a patch of grass which was in the middle. The building itself was an old Spanish mansion that had once belong to a Don, back when Mexico owned this part of the U.S. The mansion survived many minor disasters managing to make it to this century, remaining abandoned for a time.
My mother purchased the building back in the late sixties, before the community became a tourist destination. After the renovations to make the rooms into apartments, mom was able to recover her investment by renting. She put most of her profits back into maintaining her building. The tenants would also help out with the smaller things. The care and dedication that went into the building soon made it a privilege to live there.
Mostly women live here and there is a good reason for this, mom is a feminist, combat boot wearing, short hair, man hating feminist. The women here are the independent "do-it-yourself" types, so they gladly get their hands dirty and take charge. The only men mom has ever associated with have been gay after my father left, leaving mom with a bun in the oven. This did nothing to improve her views on men, so when time came to rent out the apartments, mom favored strong single women or married couples where the woman clearly wears the pants. The tenants, meaning the women, love this about her, and have dubbed the building "Eve's House".
There are three men, including myself living in the building. Brain is a city planner; he lives with his Hispanic wife Gloria in apartment 5C. I rarely see him because his work keeps him out of town quite a bit. Stuart, 2A, is staying with his friend indefinitely at this point. His wife, Michelle, caught Stuart on top of his secretary. Refusing to divorce him, she strings him along, letting him try to make it up to her and get back into her favor. Then there's Greg. Greg is dead, he lives in a little urn in the living room of 4C. You wouldn't know Greg is dead the way his wife, Jennifer, acts. It is really kind of creepy.
That leaves me, Jude, and I am not a man, I am an eighteen year old boy. I am a boy thanks to my mom and her feminist rearing methods. This is her theory in a nut shell: men are evil, so boys, not yet men are not yet evil. Crazy isn't it? Believe me when I tell you there is a lot more of where that came from. That's the story of my life; mom wanted a girl and got a boy, so she worked hard to keep me innocent forever. Looking back she probably would have succeeded if not for the cable guy. Cable guy where ever you are thank you.
It all started three months ago, during a particularly nasty thunder storm. It was raining and pouring and I was snoring, when lighting hit the buildings cable wires. The strike knocked service out for the entire town. In the morning, mom and I went outside to see the damage that had been done. The cables and the box were fried, the building would need a paint job to cover up the burn marks.
Mom said she'd have to call on one of her "girls" which was code for one of her feminist connections she made at one of her meetings. Going back to our apartment, mom placed a call to her friend Laverne. Laverne worked as a cable technician for three years. Mom was certain that Laverne could get out here and fix it the box. Much to mom's surprise, Laverne told her she'd been let go, she didn't have access to the right equipment to fix the problem. Mom hung up the phone mildly pissed. Mom's feminist view quickly surmised that Laverne had been let go because she did not sleep with that pig of a boss she had. I had seen pictures of Laverne, she was very shapely African beauty, mom was probably right.
With no other choice mom phoned the cable company. I sat there and listen to mom grill the service rep on the other end. Mom wanted to know if they could send out a female technician, the person must have said no because mom started in with more questions. She asked how many female technicians worked there, why weren't there more women employed as technicians and what kind of company discriminates against women. Mom was in rare form as she proceeded to educate the service rep in the history of women and their role in the last couple of wars. She also said that if they can take a bullet for the country why the cable company believes that they can't install cable. Thirty minutes later mom hung up the phone satisfied that a female technician would be sent as soon as possible.
Three days later the cable technician showed up. At first I thought I was seeing things as I headed toward the front door. The closer I got to the door the more I grew with terror. Mom was going to be pissed. He stood there outside the main door in all his black glory. He was built like an NFL linebacker, and as all men of such endowments, had an air of male superiority all about him. Bald as the day he was born, he waited for me to open the door; I didn't know what to do. Looking him over, I noticed a small oval patch on his shirt with his named embroidered on it. The big black man's name was Hakim. I opened the door.
"You called for cable service?" Hakim asked in his throaty voice. I blocked his path the best I could. Looking up to meet his gaze I stared wide eyed, my mouth slightly opened.
I blurted out the obvious, "You're not a woman." The statement made Hakim pause. Before he could form a response I moved closer and closed the door behind me.
"You don't understand, the cable company said they send a woman over, a woman." The look on his face told me he didn't see where I was going with this, yet to me it was the most understood thing in the world.
"Mom is a hardcore feminist, you don't understand, she hates men." Comprehension spread across his face. Hakim assured me he would be alright and that the work would probably not take so long. He also told me that there wasn't much of a choice, either he did it now or the work wouldn't get done for another two weeks, which was the earliest that another technician could get out here. I sighed with defeat and knew what lied ahead for the poor man. I warned him and invited him in Mom met us in the courtyard and as I predicted she flipped.
"Who the hell are you?" she shouted. Hakim remained silent as if she could not possibly be taking to him. I don't know how he could have missed the question, I looked at him and noticed that he had a weird look in his eyes as her stared at her. Mom was wearing a tank top and shorts, and for some reason he found it appealing. Mom must have known the look in his eyes because she was getting angrier and was charging forward into his face. Trying to keep the situation from escalating further, I stepped between them and explained what he told me earlier. Hakim stood there smirking, watching me trying to calm her down.
"Jude. Go sit on the bench until I call you, I'll deal with this... man" Mom snapped. She had put all the venom she could muster into her voice. She told Hakim to follow her, while I slinked off like a beaten dog to sit and wait.
The elevator was situated at the far end of the courtyard, so the tenants could walk through the beautiful grounds if they didn't feel like going up the stairs. I watched mom and Hakim take the elevator to the top floor. Even from down here I could see that Hakim no longer smirking when he exited the elevator, which meant that mom was having her go at him. Hakim's head hung a little lower as he climbed the stairs leading to the roof, I allowed myself a quick smile, told him didn't I.
The sun had begun to set, making the sky dim with pinks and purples. Without warning mom stormed pass me heading toward our apartment. She opened and then slammed the door closed.
"You're still sitting there?" the throaty voice asked from behind me. I watched Hakim move around to place his tools down and sit on the bench. He stared at me, trying to figure out why I was still sitting there. I could sense the pity in his eyes and hung my head lower.
"Sorry" I said meekly. Knowing that mom probably never let up, during the entire time Hakim was working. I could imagine her standing over him regaling him with questions about his performance, questioning his ability to do the job. Probably telling him how to do it better, poor guy.
