Builder Chicks

MASON

By the time I pulled up to my dad’s house, the sun was already starting to set.

The way the house catches the light has always been magical. It sits up on a hill, overlooking the whole town, and picks up all the pink and peach tones the sky has to offer.

I never realized just how much I missed this place until now. This house is more than just walls and a roof; it’s a love letter to my mother, and where I spent my entire youth until I left for college.

I pull my bag out of the Jeep and look around. As I approach the house, it becomes very clear that it’s seen better days.

The garden is overgrown, the house itself could use a new coat of paint, and…wait, is that a hole in the roof?

The front door bursts open and my father looks up at me.

It takes a while for him to realize it’s me; maybe I should have called. “Hey, Dad.”

“Mason, just in time. I can’t find the ladder, come change a bulb for me.” He goes inside, leaving the door wide open.

It might seem like a cold greeting, but that’s just my dad; he’s a little old-school like that.

I duck through the doorframe and close the door behind me.

My above-average height was a gift when it came to playing basketball, but it does make everyday life a little difficult.

I leave my bag in the hall and follow my dad into the kitchen.

As I look around, I can see he’s having a difficult time maintaining the house on the inside too. Things aren’t in complete ruin, but by the way my father’s moving around, I can tell he’s struggling.

It’s been too long since I’ve been here, since I’ve seen him, and it dawns on me just how much older he is now.

“You want something to eat? I have some ribs left over from dinner, and some roast potatoes. There’s beer in the fridge, help yourself. I’ll go get that light bulb.”

I make myself a plate and grab a beer.

As I’m about to sit down at the kitchen table, my father comes in, opens up a beer for himself, and sits down.

“These ribs are great. You changed up your recipe a bit?”

“Lime. Bobbie planted a lime tree outside. Gotta use ’em for something.”

I know I’m about to regret my next words, but I say them anyway. “There’s a few cocktails you can make with limes.”

“Aye, Bob showed me a few, even got me a blender for margaritas. The mojito one’s my favorite so far.”

I feel my brows shoot right up off my face. My dad likes mojitos?

“This Bob fellow needs a gold medal for swaying someone as stubborn as you to try something as fruity as a cocktail.”

He shrugs and takes a swig of his beer. “So, what brought you here then?”

My father has always believed that marriage is something you commit to until death. He’ll most likely think of me as some sort of failure if I tell him mine is over.

“Well, my knee’s shot to hell, and my wife left me for my best friend.”

My father’s browns knit.

He looks away in thought, takes a swig of his beer, and then shocks me again. “Good riddance.”

“Excuse me?”

“I didn’t want to say it at the time. I mean, you loved her, but she wasn’t the one for you. Never was.”

He’s not wrong there.

I watch him finish up his beer and get up. “Right, when you’re done eating, change the bulb in the pantry. You remember where your room is?”

“Draw me up a map, will ya?” I chuckle as he goes to leave. “Hey Dad, just out of curiosity, who did you think was the one for me?”

He stops at the door and looks at me as if I’ve just asked the world’s stupidest question. “The Hicks girl.”

My father leaves the kitchen grumbling something under his breath, leaving me in utter shock.

I didn’t think he even knew Angela existed, let alone was perceptive enough to know I was crushing on her for most of my high school life.

It could have been my mother who told him; she knew.

She came to me one afternoon and brought it up. Angela had just won a game with a last-minute three-pointer, and Mom noticed how I was watching her.

My mom gave me advice that I’ll never forget, mainly because I followed it and regretted doing so. She said I was too young to make mistakes that might cost me my dream.

She said not to get too attached, not to kiss her, not to have sex with her and accidentally knock her up. I had to make a choice: play ball or risk it all on some girl it may or may not work out with.

I did the smart thing and lost it all anyway, only to be left wondering how different things could have been if I hadn’t listened.

Maybe in some parallel universe, there’s a version of me that’s married to Angie, with kids, happily living in this very house.

The lucky bastard looks happy on the outside, but that guy might end up resenting his wife for keeping him from his potential basketball career.

No matter how I look at it, there’s always something.

When I’m done cleaning up after myself, I change the bulb in the pantry and head up to my room. Stairs. Even fucking stairs are an issue, and when I make it up to my room, I take a minute to wait for the pain to fade.

Great, the hole in the roof is in my bedroom, right over my bed. It doesn’t really bother me too much; it’s warm out and it’s not likely to rain this time of year.

I unpack my bag and get ready for bed.

As I lie back, I get a great view of the starry night sky. Maybe I could convince Dad to put a skylight in here. If he got a blender for making margaritas, then anything is possible.

The longer I look out at those stars, the more I feel like this is exactly where I should be. I’m going to fix up my mom’s house. It’s not much, but it’ll keep me busy and I can help out my dad at the same time.