Unraveled

Unraveled, Chapter 1 - One Type of Reconciliation

ONE TYPE OF RECONCILIATION

Damn, it was hot.  It’s not enough that light construction was paying the bills, but did it have to be the hottest summer in twelve years?  James Powers was on the roof of a soon-to-be three story townhouse in Dallas midday, mid-summer and during the worst heat wave since 1999.  James was not in Dallas in 1999, but the others never stopped talking about how much worse it could be.  There could be nightly tallies of death tolls and days with temperatures over 100 degrees.  Of course, that sounds a lot like Kuwait and Iraq in ’03 and onward.  And Leavenworth, Kansas is no picnic any time of year.

He just needed to get through one more summer to get set up.  Coming back from the war could be an adjustment, but if you played it right, you could get right.  Coming back from a military detention facility was a different story.  Meanwhile, it was haul equipment and put new buildings together.

James goes to grab some water while some other workers are taking a break.  The jokes fly, but James catches few since they mostly fly in Spanish until he approaches.

“Much longer and you won’t be so blanco anymore.”  The group laughs.  James laughs with them. 

“Yeah, I’m just biding my time until I qualify to move south to work.  I hear it’s a gravy train if the gringos make it over the border.”  The group laughs more.

“You got it, man,” said Hector, one of the construction workers.  Hector has been moving between Mexico and the United States for years chasing work that comes when the seasons change.  Hector is one of those guys who can construct a building, pick vegetables, fix most cars made before 1990 and tear your electronics apart and reassemble them to work even better without the extra parts left behind by the manufacturers.  “They’ll love you down there.”  More laughter.  “When you make it to Ciudad Juarez, tell them I said ‘Hello.’”  The group howls in laughter at the thought of an American travelling through one of the murder capitals of the world.

“I hear that whole place went to hell since you guys left,” James replied.  The group erupts in more laughter.

Hector replied, “We were the glue that held that place together.  Think what would happen if we left the U.S.!”  The group continues in uncontrolled until Jesus, the project foreman, walks up.

“Break is over!  Get back to work!  Dammit, there’s plenty of time to screw around after work.  Work will be permanently over if the owners replace the guys who spent their time screwing around rather than working!”  Jesus was not feeling particularly lenient that day.  People were happy to have a job, particularly in real estate and construction during the recession that never seems to want to end.  It would not take much to replace an entire crew.  The pressure to perform got more intense as the responsibility ladder rose, even as low as foreman.

Jesus pointed at James.  “New guy,” as Jesus addressed James for the last three months.  “The new guys are the easiest to replace.”  Jesus continued to shake his finger and said, “We have a schedule to keep.  So help me keep it.”

“I’m on it, Jeffy.”

“That’s jefe, you xenophobic jerk.”

Nine o’clock does not come soon enough.  The sun is still hanging in the sky, just enough to provide some light but not enough to keep working outside.  James opens the door to his house, closes the door and tosses the keys and mail on a small wooden table next to the door.  He thumbs through the envelopes and catalogs before dismissing them and moving to the kitchen.  James grabs a beer and hits the play button on his answering machine.

The familiar voice of George Buchanan boomed out of the speaker.  “Yo, Jimmay, sorry it took me so long to get in touch.  I still wish you would work with us.  But, you should give me a call when you get a second.  Something may have come up that is outside our interests but could use your talents.”  It was almost like being back in Baghdad.