"My daddy was a great man..." my cousin Billy choked. He paused, trembling as he tried to pull it together. I stood up beside him for support. He turned toward me with a pleading look.
"Uh.." I said, gliding up to the podium. "Uncle Burt was indeed a great man. Shoot - he saved my hind-end more times than I can count, and he was there for everybody who knew him - his kids, us nieces and nephews, everybody..."
I stopped, trying to find a memory of Burt to share.
"Billy, uh, you remember that one summer where we did all that work at the Hillside?"
He nodded as he blotted his eyes.
"Burt really came through me that summer - giving me work that I know my daddy - God rest his soul - didn't want me to do. But Burt was like that. Always a helping hand. We can, uh, all mourn losing a good friend and family member today but Heaven at least has somebody who can install a damn sink right."
I walked off as a light applause ran through the room.
More relatives, old coworkers and drinking buddies paraded at the podium. All about how Burt did this good deed here and there. The man was great no doubt, and I even felt the tears well in my eyes as his ex-wife even talked about how great he had been.
The service gave way to a reception, and we all dispersed from there. I drove home quietly in the dark, remembering that one summer and one particular day I will never forget. But that's a story I couldn't tell at a funeral if you catch my meaning.
It must have been the summer of '82 or so. I would have been 23 or 24 and in the prime of my youth from many days spent on farms and manual labor. There wasn't much work around then, so me and every other lone cowboy in the area not working for a factory or their daddy was just scraping by. I was tall, blond and toned from all that work, and my skin was a rich tanned color. And I found my way around with the ladies but I didn't have two nickels to rub together, so I wasn't really the dating or marrying type.
I think I was doing some farm work before Burt called me up. My daddy and he used to buy, fix run and run some motels in and around the area with the family doing a lot of the work, like the office and some handyman work. I had worked with them off and on, but my daddy was a bullheaded as they came, and we got into enough fights that I just stopped working with him.
I won't ever forget Burt's voice on this call. "Tommy, son, I need you. Just bought the old Hillside, and the place is for shit."
We went back and forth about work and time and that lot. Burt mostly needed me to fix up the in-room AC units as it turned out, which was something I had some training in.
"You know my condition," I said to him, trailing off.
"Your daddy has promised to stay far away until you're done," Burt said.
We agreed to meet the next morning at the place and walk it before I agreed to anything.
I knew some stuff about the Hillside. It used to be the kind of spot kids would talk about - a shady motel hidden slightly off the beaten path that catered to drifters, truckers and teenagers who wanted to party in a place nobody gave a shit about. It probably had stains that paint couldn't cover, but I figured work was work.
I pulled down the driveway of the place the next day around 10 a.m. Something about the early summer Texas sun made it seem nicer than it probably was. The motel has four one-story buildings, each painted white with black doors and window frames. The one closest to me looked like it might be decent, but I could tell almost immediately that plastic bags were covering the windows on some of the rooms toward the back.
I walked around a few minutes or so before Burt came roaring in in his Ford pickup. He pulled up alongside me, "Not that bad, huh?"
I nodded, and he pulled next to me and stepped out.
Burt was always a tank of a guy, but especially back then. He stood easily at 6'3" and was built sturdy as they come. He had dark blue eyes, light brown hair and a thick cowboy mustache all topped with a white cowboy hat.
His massive hand shook mine. "Good seeing you, son," he said. He called all of us kids "son" - just part of his way.
We walked along the first building, which he explained was partially rented to some day laborers.
"Them rooms ain't great but they're serviceable," he said.
He opened the first non-rented room and walked me around. The Hillside must have been built as one of the first motels with the normal bedroom and bathroom areas but no closets. Instead, the builder took the little nook of space not occupied by the bathroom in the corner of the room and ran a curtain rod over the length. A floor-length curtain was then used to create a little area to put your luggage or whatever shit you had. It was cheap, but it must have worked fine.
We took a look at the AC in the first room, which was ancient. I sighed but figured it was simple enough, and I could probably get her humming her. Burt explained the gameplan for fixing the place up, including bringing in painters, carpenters, carpet guys and Billy to work on the electric. He then asked how long I thought I needed.
I guessed about a month depending, and he just nodded and told me his expectations and rate of pay. Of course, it was the same as always - in at 8, out by 5. Half an hour for lunch. No smoking in the rooms and don't use an ounce of electricity more than needed. Burt was a better man than my dad, but he was just as cheap. But it was what it was, and I agreed.
"Start wherever you like," he said as we exited the room, "We'll do the current rooms after them boys split." He then handed me a master key and drove off.
To be honest, once I was working on the units, I saw most of them were in decent shape. Maybe some freon, filter changes and light mechanical fixes. When I got into building three though, everything was a mess, and I went from doing three or four units a day to one at most. To make matters worse, other contractors started showing up, and most of them needed me out before they could work.
The plumbers were the ones really right behind me. Burt had hired two independent guys - Buck and Tommy. Buck was a fixture in town, and he could crank out work. Tommy though was younger though and kind of new to this kind of work. He was maybe a year or two older than me, and once we got talking, I realized I probably played baseball against him back in high school. He was a hair shorter than me - maybe 5'8" and lean with dirty blonde hair. He had next to no hair on his face, which meant that Buck teased him mercilessly. Tommy complained a lot that Buck got easier work, but it was hard not to see how slow Tommy was going.
For the first week or so, the weather held out. But one day, the Texas summer heat oozed into town. The air around the Hillside was stagnant and, aside from the swampy haze in the air, you'd have thought you were in hell. I did my easiest repair first, but around 10, the sweat was pouring off me. That's when I gave thought to kicking the AC on it one of the now-vacant rooms in Building 1.
Now, this was strictly against Burt's rules, but I didn't really care given how bad it was. I checked my watch and decided to see if I could pull it off for a few hours at 11.
When 11 came, I peeked out of the room I was in to see just Tommy's truck in the lot by Building 2. I causally walked over and let myself into Room 104, which was still slightly cool from the lodger who stayed the night before. It was messy since there was no cleaning crew. I quickly closed the blinds, flipped the AC unit back on, turning a desk lamp on its lowest setting and snuck back out into the lot. I figured if anybody asked, we could blame the lodger.
My original plan was not to say anything, but Tommy spotted and waived me down.
"Hot one, huh?" he asked. He was just as drenched as me but in a tight gray sleeveless shirt and painters pants. Splotches of white paint were all over him.
"Yup," I said. I made a sly face and looked around. "Don't tell anybody, but I flipped the AC on it Unit 104 in case you get hot."
Tommy smiled. "Oh, well, thanks for the tip."
I nodded and walked back to my work. I remember thinking I would go to the room and have lunch at noon but when I checked things out, I saw Burt had parked by the office. I sighed and busied myself until about 1, when I checked again. The coast was clear.
I walked back into the blazing heat, carefully checking all my angles to make sure Burt really wasn't there. But, there was no sign of his truck. The office lights were off. I made a direct line right to 104, opening the door quickly but quietly and then returning it to closed.
The cool air rushed over me. I went right for the unit, flinging my shirt off and letting the forced air rush over me. The sweat dried up almost instantly, and I sighed in relief. As soon as I felt cool enough, I stepped backward and sat on the bed. I didn't care that it was dirty. It was enough just to sit in air conditioning and enjoy the cool feeling.
I laid back and let my legs spread as I did, letting the cool air slowly creep all over me. I don't know how long I was there - five or maybe ten minutes at most. Then, I heard the sound of work boots on the wooden porch deck on Building 1. I thought it might be Tommy, but I wasn't going to take any chances. I darted up, grabbing my shirt and hiding behind the curtain in the room. I left a little crack open so I could see who was coming in. I figured if it was Tommy, he'd just laugh this off. If it was Burt, well, I'd just wait him out and sneak back to work.
