Page 64 of Man Hands
“That little art college downtown—I almost didn’t send my résumé. It’s such a small school! But they called me this morning.” The words get muffled. She’s chewing onsomething.
“Are you cooking something besides thebread?”
“Am I breathing? Of course I am. Woman cannot dine on bread alone. She also needs bacon andpoachedeggs.”
My stomach rumbles even though I ate only an hour ago. “Sure wish I couldjoinyou.”
“Of course you do,” she says cheerfully. “The bacon was hand-smoked by the guy at the farmers’market.”
That’s not the real reason I wish I was there, though. I can picture standing with Brynn in her shabby kitchen, and the image is so much more appealing than the one I’ve got in front of me here. A week from now I’ll have rebuilt this place with a gleaming, chef’s gourmet kitchen. And I don’tevencare.
Fuck.
“The network is pissing me off.” I sigh into the phone. “I wish I was at homewithyou.”
There’s a silence on the line while Brynn absorbs this bit of truth. What I want her to say is,Thencomehome.
“What did they do?” she asksinstead.
“This project is sleazy,” I complain. Because it is. “I worry that they’re trying to position me in a different, sleazier way than they used to. As if showing the world my ass has changed my image, so they’re just going to drive me like an out-of-control belt sander until I crash intosomething.”
“I’m sorry,” she sayssweetly.
Aw. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine. I just have to remember why I got into the business—to build spaces for happyfamilies.”
“That’s an excellent reason,” she assures me. “Everyone deserves anicehome.”
I’m embarrassed now, so I mutter something about being good with my hands. But it’s been a while since I stated my purpose out loud. And it occurs to me that part of the reason I’ve been building family homes for almost twenty years is that I never had one formyself.
Last year Itriedto make a home for myself, but I went about it the wrong way, and itflopped.
Must have built it for thewronggirl.
This epiphany is interrupted by my pal, Burt, who’s waving to me with both hands. That probably means that Shiny Shoes has just found a new way to wreck the project, and that I’d better go do some more damagecontrol.
“I gotta go,” I tell Brynnreluctantly.
“Are you okay?”sheasks.
“Yeah,” I say quickly. That’s what a man is supposed to say. “Talksoon?”
“Ofcourse.”
I love you. The words are on the tip of my tongue, and they almost tumble out. Except that’s not how Brynn and I are with each other, and nobody is listening so I can’t even claim it as an act of publicity. “Take care of yourself,” I sayinstead.
There’s a pause and then she says, “Youtoo!”
We hang up, and I spend the next half hour verbally wrestling with every idea that comes out of Shiny Shoes’smouth.
I like to create spaces where happy family lives are meant to be lived. He wants a space where great drama happens. The two goals are incompatible. In order to rein in my fury, I stop listening. Instead, I just watch his mouth move while noddingoccasionally.
But one thing is clear. I need to stop brooding over my personal life and pay more attention to my career before everything goes to shit. Some people aren’t meant to get a Happily Ever After, and that’s just the wayitis.
36It Ain’t EasyBeingPink
Brynn
After I talk to Tom,my heart hurts. I don’t understand it. So I try to be upbeat. I try to be enthusiastic, and I think I pullitoff.
