Page 8 of We Could Be So Good
Nick wakes to the sound of his phone ringing. Not many people have his number. TheChronicle, of course, but it’s early Sunday morning. It’s probably his mother, which means bad news. Nick stumbles down the hall in the darkness and snatches the receiver from the cradle.
“Hello,” he says, his voice sleep-rough.
“Nick, is that you?”
“Andy?” Nick’s pulse speeds up.
“I have a leak in my sink.”
“You have a leak in your sink,” Nick repeats, waiting for his brain to catch up with his ears. It’s still dark out.
“Well, it’s under the sink, to be exact. You know the pipe that’s shaped like...” His voice trails off, and Nick can picture him making an S in the air with his finger.
“Don’t you have a super or something?”
“The superintendent’s wife is in the hospital having a baby. I called all the plumbers in the phone book and nobody’s answering. Which, considering that it’s six in the morning on a Sunday, isn’t much of a surprise. So I called you. I woke you up, didn’t I. I’m so sorry.”
“And you called me because I’m the only person you’ve ever met who knows how to use a wrench.”
“Pretty much.”
Nick remains silent for a moment, not knowing how to take this. On the one hand, of course he can do something about Andy’s sink. On the other, he isn’t sure he likes the idea of being the handyman.
“How bad a leak are we talking about? A trickle? A gush? Only when you turn on the faucet or all the time?”
“All the time, and in between.”
“Okay. Do you have a bucket you can put under there while you’re waiting for me? The trains will run slow at this hour, so I don’t know how long it’ll take me to get up there.”
“Nick, will you really come? Thank you, thank you—”
“Bucket, Andy.”
“No, I don’t have a bucket, but I put a soup tureen under the sink to catch the water.”
“Okay. Let me get dressed and I’ll come over. What’s your address?”
He doesn’t bother shaving or showering, just throws on a pair of jeans and a sweater and walks out the door. A minute later he’s back for his own bucket and his toolbox, because there’s no chance Andy has so much as a wrench.
“I’ve had to empty the tureen ten times,” Andy says by way of greeting when he opens the door.
“Yeah, we’re talking about the tureen later. Who doesn’t have a pot? Where’s your kitchen?”
“On the left. Nick, what would I do with pots or pans?”
“I’m not answering that.” Nick crouches in front of the sink and shoves the bucket underneath before removing a half-full piece of crockery. So, this is a soup tureen. It’s made of white china, but the rim and handles look like they’ve been dipped in gold. “You are a disgrace,” he says, handing it to Andy.
“That’s a horrible way to talk to fine china,” says Andy.
The leak looks like it’s coming from the water-supply line, which he had already guessed. He gets out from under the sink and takes his sweater off, not wanting to spend the rest of the morning in soggy clothes.
“Hand me the basin wrench, will you?” he asks when he’s back under the sink.
“You’re going to have to give me more than that to go on.”
Nick ducks out from under the sink and rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky you can get by on your looks.” He retrieves the basin wrench and then the regular plumber’s wrench, just in case.
At first, he thinks the connection might be too corroded to be tightened, in which case he’ll have to turn off the water supply. And then he’ll have to get ahold of a plumber who’s willing to come over on a Sunday morning. His brother will know someone. Nick tries not to think about the fact that he spends most of his life doing his best to avoid talking to his brother but would get him on the phone in a heartbeat for Andy Fleming’s fucking sink. But it’s a moot point, because finally he gets the nut to budge, and the leak slows to a trickle before finally stopping.
