I am so exhausted that I can hardly believe it. Yeah, things are starting to settle down here in Vermont, I'm getting on well with Mr. Townsend at the job site. I'm working half days, riding in with dad, then I take a bus when I am off work, head to this ice rink located near our new home. Some great new friends here, getting on really well with this guy Tag who is a born and breed Vermonter. H pretty much knows everyone that has ever skated in the area. He's super cool, way more of a hot wire personality than I ever have been. We are becoming sort of a Lone Ranger and Tonto team, he's got my back and I've got his.
Tag has been with the same girl since he was in grade school. Melanie is damned gorgeous and nice as anyone I have ever met, she does not push at me that I am not actively dating or even really trying. For that matter, neither does Tag, it's what's making me feel more comfortable with them than any of my friends from Rhode Island.
I'm sitting in dad's pick up, waiting for him to come out and get us to the job site. The sun has not burned through the night sky yet, just a bit of dark orange off on the horizon. This is the time we leave every day for work, now that it's early August it is pretty warm even at this ungodly hour. I hear the garage door close, then the driver's door opens up. Dad scoots himself in and tosses my hockey bag across the bench seat at me.
"Damn Robbie, don't you ever wash this stuff? Smells like something died in there. I told you to get some cedar chip shavings and put them in your bag. Trust me, it will keep that rot bag from gagging me every time I go into the garage. And, next time don't forget your stuff, it is your responsibility, not mine to make sure you've got your things. You're the one who wants to skate, I'm working so much that I barely have the time to read the newspaper at night before I crash."
I feel badly to be so forgetful, if it were not for him watching out for me I would be up shit's creek without a hockey stick. Crap, I have to get things together cause it is going to be even worse once I start Uni in a month.
Dad has agreed that once I go back to school, he will drop me off every morning on his way to work. That way he won't have to figure out a way to pay for me to live near campus in New Hampshire. It's not really that far anyway, I can always sleep on the way there, then take a local bus back to his site so we can ride back home together.
Things are going to work out well for both of us financially this way too. I can put the money I make into an account for working a few afternoons after classes and on Saturdays. Mr. Townsend has been really cool about allowing me to have a real flexible schedule. This is gonna allow me to try out for the travel team with the University and still have a job waiting when ever I don't have to be at scrimmages or practice.
The truck heads down the familiar lonely pine tree lined roads, they lead to the bridge we take in Bellows Falls to get over to New Hampshire. After a quick stop at the local doughnut shop, we're back on the road. I open the bag that dad brought breakfast in, pull back the tabs on both our coffee cups. Places them into the cup holder between us, I toss a napkin onto dad's lap. He pulls out a glazed doughnut, pushes it into his open mouth.
The sun is starting to break through the dark sky, there are a few more cars on the road. We pass a familiar figure of a woman on horseback, she is there every morning and we are in about the same place every time we pass her. Dad is a stickler for being on time, very rarely deviates from his schedule, I get that from him too. I actually get kinda anxious when I think I might be late for something, tend to be right on time whether coming or going. Creatures of habit, yep that's what we are.
We pull into the job site, the truck rocks from side to side as we drive over the pot hole riddled dirt entrance. Rising before us are the skeletons of several multi story houses to be. There are supposed to be a total of 45 duplex's built on this large plot of land. The pines have been carved out, create a boarder around the what will ultimately become a small community of identical white clapboard sided, black shuttered homes. Right now, there are only 2 partially completed structures, another 6 are just studs and foundations. Yellow flags mark where future foundations are to be dug and poured but for now, we keep busy with the few that are ultimately going to become the show houses for the complex.
The pick-up pulls up along side a large stack of 2 X 4's. This is going to be my job for the day, I'll be buggy lugging them, creating stacks in front of each of the partially framed structures. Dad reaches over, rubs his rough right paw through my short cropped hair.
"Don't kill yourself today kiddo, I'm going to need your back this weekend at the house. Mr. Townsend has agreed to come and stay over on Saturday so we can dig a new well for the house, hopefully find some clean water once and for all."
I turn toward him, my smile could not have been broader, I really can't stand that rusty, smelly water that we have coming out of the pipes right now. Even the filtration system is sorta ineffective to the rusty water. It would be fantastic to walk out of a shower and not feel as if your skin has a rough film on it. The bottled water that we get from Poland Springs is great but I'm sure that it's costing dad an arm and a leg money he just doesn't have right now.
Dad has done with the barest of essentials for himself. He's even given up his weekend beer to try and save money. Our morning donuts and coffee are just about the only splurge that he allows for himself. Me on the other hand, he makes sure that I have ice time and the hockey gear that I need. He also makes sure that my sister has everything she needs back in Rhode Island. Mom is holding up her end really well, she got a big raise with her new position at the hospital.
Summer heat is in full blast, humid, hot, not a great combination for having to lug lumber around in. I notice a beautiful brand new Ram 3500 pull up near the first building where dad is completing some finishing touches on the trim and crown molding. I recognize Mr. Trattorella, dad's previous boss from Rhode Island getting out and walking over to the trailer office that Mr. Townsend uses and lives while on site. He is not about to leave this place alone at night, so he figures he will play contractor and security guard, save money in the long run.
The trailer really is nice, it has a full kitchen, living room area with granite counter tops, real wood cabinets and a full shower in the bathroom. At the rear of the trailer, there is Mr. Townsend's bedroom. He has a king sized bed in there and a flat screen T.V. There is a large air conditioning unit and generator on the roof water hook up makes it a real home away from home. On more than one occasion, Mr. Townsend said that the trailer is actually more comfortable, easier to take care of than his house. He's divorced from his 3rd wife and lives alone in a large contemporary on the side of one of the hills in New Hampshire. He showed us pictures of it on his laptop, it's huge but must be pretty lonely up there in the hinterlands all by himself.
I continue to lug the 2 X 4's to their respective buildings. They are pr-cut in length. have numbers painted on them to show where they go and in what order. The buildings are partially pr-fabbed but still require skilled construction, someone like my dad to finalize the detail work that makes this complex higher quality and ultimately a more desirable place for young families to live in.
Mr. Townsend and Mr Trattorella walk over to his truck. I see that my dad's pick up is being pulled up directly behind the new Ram 3500. Two of the younger site workers are unloading boxes and furniture from Mr. Trattorella's truck and loading it all into our older pick up.
Dad's truck is finally loaded to the gills, Mr. Trattorella is back in his truck and pulling out of the site's driveway. I look down at my watch, see that it is just past noon. I'm sure dad is already getting out his lunch from the small cooler chest, waiting for me to join him. I arrive, sure enough, two sandwiches, two bottles of cold water and an two oranges are laid out on a makeshift table. Two saw horses with a remnant of particle board make due. Two overturned buckets that once contained large amounts of spackling powder serve as stools. Nothing goes to waist on the site, I am more than happy just to relax out of the sun and excessive heat. A tall fan on a 5' stand blows air toward us.
I sit down on my bucket, see our boss, Mr. Townsend come into the room with a bag in hand, a bucket of his own in the other. He places it upside down, sits at the opposite end of the homemade table from dad. I'm sitting in between them, feel a sinking feeling in my stomach. Mr. Townsend has never come and shared lunch with us in the 3 weeks that we have been working for him. I pray that I have not done anything to embarrass dad, or worse get us both fired! Waits for either dad or Mr. Townsend to make the first move. I don't dare touch my food without them digging in first.
Mr. Townsend is a very impressive, foreboding figure. He stands a very solid 6'6", has shiny, tight dark brown skin over very defined muscles. A goatee is the only hair that one see's on him, even with his shirt off, which he is often found to be when working. He is pretty shredded, muscular form has not disappeared from his days as a pro athlete. It's obvious he takes great care in his appearance. His smoothly shaved bald head is perfectly groomed. Fingernails clipped close and clean, something that is a wonder for someone in the construction business. It is not due to the lack of working with his hands, he is as hands on as any of his employees. It is apparent that he just takes grooming seriously.
