Aaron Under Construction

by Marin Thomas

  “Aaron…I appreciate that you want to help. But unless you can resurrect my mother and brother there is no help for me.”

  “Do you believe they’d wish you to punish yourself like this? Deny yourself happiness?”

  “No, of course not. Only I can make sure that I pay my penance.”

  “That’s twisted, Jenny.”

  “Welcome to my world, Aaron.”

  He shoved a hand through his hair. “None of this makes any sense.”

  “Neither did my mother’s and brother’s deaths. Would you care to be in my father’s shoes and have to face your daughter every day understanding her stupidity, her naiveté, caused the deaths of your son and wife?”

  “Maybe you see that when you look in the mirror, but your father doesn’t. I know. He told me during our fishing trip that he was saddened you wouldn’t allow yourself to be happy. That you hold yourself solely responsible for the past, and that what happened wasn’t your fault.”

  Before she uttered something hateful to make Aaron leave, she abandoned the rocking chair for the front door. “I’ll never forget what you did for Mrs. Benitos and my brother.” She hesitated, her back to him. Caving in to the urge to burn his image into her memory, she glanced over her shoulder.

  He was already gone.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “The guy’s loco” Jennifer insisted, standing next to Juan as they surveyed the abandoned canning factory. The four-story brick-and-mortar eyesore—shattered windows, boarded-up doors, rotted wood and rusted chimney stack—had sat vacant on the edge of Santa Angelita for the past fifteen years.

  Juan wiped his brow. The scorching July sun burned down on their heads with a vengeance. “Yep, loco.”

  The parking lot suffered the same decay as the building. Weeds sprouted through crevices and cracks in the concrete. Fast-food bags and wrappers, broken liquor bottles, bald tires, soda cans and drug paraphernalia littered the ground. A rusted, razor-wire trimmed chain-link fence added the finishing touch to the desolate piece of property.

  She shielded her eyes from the glare and pointed ahead. “Is that a wash machine?”

  “Sí.” Juan ground his work boot against a broken bottle, the crunching sound faint compared with the roar of midday traffic zipping by on the interstate overpass behind the facility.

  As for local wildlife, four big black crows pecked a garbage bag several yards away, and a white cat lay curled in a ball on the yellow, pee-stained mattress near the building’s main entrance. Absent of trees and bushes, the area resembled a colorless, lifeless, barren cement wasteland—exactly how Jennifer felt inside.

  “You sure this is the right place?”

  “Yep. The developer intends to transform the factory into affordable housing units for local residents.” Jennifer’s boss hadn’t shared a whole lot of information on the developer, AJM Enterprises, only that the company was local and interested in urban-renewal projects.

  “Affordable housing?” Juan scoffed.

  “Obviously the developer’s definition of affordable differs from that of the local latinos.” Real-estate investors ran amuck throughout the L.A. basin, buying up ancient warehouses and buildings, then converting them into high-priced condos and flats. But never before had Santa Angelita been a target. “Maybe the guy’s seeking a tax shelter.”

  “Least the place won’t be an eyesore anymore.”

  Normally, Jennifer would be thrilled to accept a new project, especially one of this magnitude. But she couldn’t summon an ounce of excitement. If the gods were generous, the job would require months to complete. Long enough to purge Aaron from her brain. Long enough to forget how he’d made her feel, how he’d set her soul free for the briefest moment when they’d made love.

  More than a month had passed since Mrs. Benitos had moved into her new home. The week following the ribbon-cutting ceremony, Aaron had been assigned to a different crew—by chance or at his request, she didn’t know, nor did she ask. After six weeks of wondering…waiting…missing him, her boss had informed her that he’d given his notice and no longer worked for Barrio Amigo. That was five days, sixteen hours and…thirty-seven seconds ago.

  What did you expect, Jennifer? You told him to go away and leave you alone.

  “We’ll solicit help from the cops to keep the place from being vandalized,” Juan commented.

  “I’ll check with the boss to see if he’s lined up security.” The factory was a well-known drug den. Punks, addicts and gang members used the building at night. Police made occasional drive-bys but never entered the crumbling walls and evicted the junkies and drug dealers. “Why don’t we walk the perimeter, and if the place appears safe, we’ll enter.”

  The main purpose of today’s visit was to gain a better understanding of what would be involved in the initial cleanup before actual construction and, in some sections, demolition began. She opened her notebook and removed a smaller version of the building blueprints, which she handed to Juan.

  “Wait a minute.” He stopped and studied the plans. “The parking lot is being turned into a children’s playground? Where are tenants supposed to park their cars?”

  “Underground parking.” Jennifer pointed toward a huge chunk of missing concrete in the foundation supporting the right corner of the building. “That’s not good.”

  “An underground garage.” They continued toward the building. “Perfect place to mug someone,” he commented. Then he asked, “Any idea why the developer wants to keep the whole fourth floor a single unit?”

  Jennifer paused and shielded her eyes from the burning sun in order to view the top floor of the factory. An image of Aaron’s apartment flashed through her memory, causing a twinge in her heart. “I don’t know.”

  Slowly turning in a circle, Juan asked, “Where’s the day care going?”

  “The boss said the developer has asked for our input. What do you think about the east side of the property, away from the freeway and the railroad tracks?”

  “It’s dangerous to have a day care anywhere near a railroad crossing.”

  “Remember, there’s going to be a landscape barrier, then a sound barrier wall between the property and the tracks.”

  “What’s the rest of the parking lot being used for?” Juan motioned to the section west of the building.

  “Sort of a greenbelt. Walking paths, gardens and sitting areas with benches and a fountain. It’s a brilliant idea. Once the trees mature in a few years, most of the freeway will be blocked from view as you drive up to the complex.”

  “Sounds like the guy’s trying to build a utopia in the middle of a cesspool.”

  “Hey, I’m all for cleaning up the area. And we shouldn’t complain. The crew has a steady paycheck through next spring.”

  “Our crew and several others. Jennifer, there’s no way we’ll be able to do everything ourselves.”

  “The boss is aware that we’ll have to divvy out work to subcontractors with a project this size, but I intend to be scrupulous with the construction budget. When this place is finished, I expect it to hold up, so that it looks the same fifty years from now. We’re not cutting corners and using substandard materials.”

  “I hope the guy realizes how lucky he is to have you running the show.”

  “Thanks, Juan. C’mon. Let’s peek inside the building. I intend to check the cooling and heating units.”

  An hour later, they emerged from the factory and walked to their trucks. “The boss is holding a meeting with us tomorrow morning at nine,” Jennifer said.

  “Tomorrow’s Saturday. The boys have soccer club.”

  “Can’t you miss one game?” Jennifer tossed the notebook and blueprints onto the front seat.

  “You’d understand if you had your own kids.” Juan narrowed his eyes. “Isn’t it time you found a husband and started your own family?”

  She sucked in a quiet breath at his harsh words.

  “Damn. I’m sorry, Jennifer. I shouldn’t have said that.”

&nbs
p; “It’s what you’re thinking.”

  “I’m thinking that you deserve more from life than what you’re allowing yourself to have. Thirty is around the corner and all you do is get your hands dirty every day, then go home to cook for your father, do laundry and clean. What kind of life is that?”

  “I don’t do all the cooking and cleaning,” she huffed.

  “You know what I mean. Why did you run McKade off?”

  “Doesn’t matter anymore.” She yanked the truck door open.

  “He made you happy.”

  “Well, I don’t deserve to be happy, Juan. Don’t you get it? Doesn’t anybody get it? My mother and brother are lying six feet under the ground because of me. They aren’t happy. Why should I be happy?” Embarrassed by her emotional outburst, she pressed her fingers to her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes and the blasted black crows wavered and multiplied in front of her.

  Warm, firm hands gripped her shoulders. A fierce battle raged inside her as she fought the need for comfort. For forgiveness. It was too much. Aaron had made a huge dent in her armor and she couldn’t withstand the forces begging her to accept defeat. At Juan’s gentle tug, she buried her face in his shirt and cried.

  “Cry, mi amiga. Cry for your mother, your brother. Cry for your family’s loss. Cry for yourself.”

  She wasn’t sure how long she stood baking under the hot sun with Juan’s comforting arms holding her up. After all the tears had been cried, she pushed away from him. “Don’t worry about tomorrow’s meeting. I’ll cover for you. Go be with your boys.”

  “You sure?” He acted as if he wished to say more but snapped his mouth closed.

  “I’m sure. Let’s meet with the crew on Monday here at the factory and we’ll begin the cleanup process.”

  “You’ll be okay?”

  “I’ll be fine.” Without another word or wave, she hopped into her truck and drove out of the lot. At the corner she took a right. The next corner she turned left. She repeated the process several times until she pulled up to the entrance of St. Mary’s Cemetery…the statue of Mother Mary, arms lifted toward the heavens, beckoning her.

  She eased her foot off the brake and the truck rolled forward through the massive black iron gates. Nine years had passed since she’d visited this cemetery. Until now, she’d never had the courage to view her mother’s and brother’s graves.

  She followed the narrow path around a curve, then stopped the truck in a designated parking area. As if each movement caused her excruciating pain, she inched open the door and slid out. Leaving the door ajar, she made her way to the graves.

  As she drew closer, she noticed several things at once: there were no flowers. An empty plastic bag lay on top of one of the mounds. And a thin line of rust ran straight through her brother’s name on the headstone.

  They deserve better than this, Jennifer.

  She stopped near the edge of the mounds. Where to begin…what to say…? Did her mother and brother even want her here?

  “Hi, Mama. Hi, Rafael.”

  A tear rolled down her cheek. “I miss you both. We all miss you.”

  Another tear.

  “I’m sorry I stayed away so long.” A gust of hot air stirred Jennifer’s hair, making her smile. “I know, Mama. I should have come sooner. Should have told you both how sorry I am that I got mixed up with that jerk.”

  She fell to her knees at the end of her mother’s grave and bowed her head. “Everyone tells me I have to forgive myself and move on with my life…but how, Mama? How can I be happy when you and Rafael are here?” She flung her arms out wide, gesturing to the hundreds of graves across acres of freshly mowed grass.

  No answer. A dandelion fluttered near her leg. She picked the weed, then twirled the stem between her fingers. “I wish…I wish for you and Rafael to be back with us. For me to have gone to college. For Delia and Antonio to have had a mother when they were younger.”

  She sniffled, then wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “Papa misses you so much, Mama. He talks to you. Sometimes I hear his conversations through the bedroom wall. But maybe you hear, too. Do you talk to Papa, Mama?”

  The sound of crunching gravel caught Jennifer’s attention. Another vehicle passed through the entry gates but drove down a different path and disappeared from sight.

  “Deep in my heart, Mama, I believe you’ve forgiven me. But I’m not sure I can forgive myself. I wish I could bring you back, but I can’t.”

  Exhausted, Jennifer stretched along the grave and rested her cheek on the grass as if it were her mother’s bosom. “I met a man, Mama. His name is Aaron McKade. Oh, Mama, if things were different…

  “Help me make it up to you and Rafael. What can I do to help you both rest in peace?”

  The hot wind kicked up again; only this time, Jennifer couldn’t understand her mother’s command.

  August

  “HI, MAMA. Hi, Rafael. Brought fresh flowers today.” Jennifer set the yellow and white daises, wrapped in purple tissue paper, between the two graves. Then she returned to her truck and retrieved cleaning solution and several rags to scrub the headstones. As she cleaned, she chatted. “Delia enrolled in beauty school last month. I’d rather see her go to college, too, Mama, but for now this is her dream.

  “Rafael, you would have burst out laughing when Delia came home yesterday with pumpkin-orange hair.” Jennifer chuckled. “She didn’t follow the directions when she mixed the color solution. I can hear you tsk-tsking, Mama. But that’s Delia…never follows directions. Remember when she was a baby and you…”

  September

  “PAPA JOINED a bowling league, Mama. He went out and bought a new ball and had your name engraved on it. He bought a pink shirt with flamingos on it and shoes that sparkle. Silly, if you ask me.

  “Antonio traveled to Belize again. He’s doing really well at McKade Import-Export and he’s still taking classes for his master’s degree.”

  Jennifer rubbed her fingers through the lush green grass covering her mother’s grave. “I miss Aaron, Mama. More than I ever thought possible. I told him to go away, but…”

  October

  “THANKS FOR the happy birthday, Mama and Rafael. I wish you could be here to help me celebrate. I can’t believe you’ve been gone ten years now. Seems like yesterday…

  “I’ve been visiting Father Ricardo, Mama. He’s a nice man. It hurts to talk about you and Rafael, but he’s helping me.

  “Aaron still hasn’t called, Mama. I wonder if he would speak to me if I called him?

  December

  “MERRY CHRISTMAS, Mama and Rafael.” Jennifer set a gift-wrapped box on top of each grave.

  “I wrote you both poems. Hope you like them. Papa says he’ll be out next week to wish you two a Merry Christmas. I signed up for an English literature class at the community college that begins in January. I know, twenty-nine is a little old to start college, but I’ ve decided I’d like to try teaching instead of nursing. Do you believe I’d make a good teacher, Rafael?

  “They found out who stole the money from Barrio Amigo. It was Pedro. He said he was going to lose his house if he didn’t come up with the cash to pay his wife’s medical bills. Pedro’s niece worked at the bank Barrio Amigo keeps its money in and she transferred the funds into an account for Pedro. Barrio Amigo didn’t press charges, but Pedro’s niece was fired from her job. I’m trying to figure out a way to help Pedro pay back the money he took.

  “I still miss Aaron. I’m beginning to understand how Papa feels. How the hurt and pain never really go away….”

  March

  “YESTERDAY, I CALLED Aaron, Mama, but he wasn’t home. I was too chicken to leave a message. I wonder if he’s found someone else. We should be finished renovating the canning factory next month.” She smiled. “Mama, you’d love the place. Our project is drawing a lot of attention from the mayor’s office and even the governor. I’m excited about meeting the developer….”

  April

  “HEY, BOSS.” Juan shuffled acr
oss the newly stained and polished cement corridor on the second floor of the canning factory. A week ago, the developer made public the name for the housing complex—Orchard Grove—for the fruits that had once been processed in the factory. Jennifer loved the name.

  “I’m in a hurry, Juan. Can you deal with whatever crisis has arisen?” Talk about stressed. Her nerves were popping like Mexican jumping beans. Tomorrow morning, bright and early, Barrio Amigo’s boss would arrive with the developer for a final walkthrough of the property before the bigwigs—L.A.’s mayor, the governor, both state senators, several state representatives, city council members and the media—arrived later in the afternoon.

  During the past few months, Jennifer had acquired a grudging respect for the developer and his vision. He’d turned an eyesore into a beautiful, desirable and safe place to live in the barrio. The price tag for the undertaking had been steep. Not only had the developer been generous with his wallet, but he’d impressed her with his ethics. He hadn’t demanded that they take any construction shortcuts. Everything was up to code or better because he had insisted that Barrio Amigo use only the highest quality materials, supplies and subcontractors.

  “The boss called. There’s been a change of plans.”

  Whenever a project neared completion, Jennifer spent more time jumping through hoops than actually working. “What now?”

  “The developer wants to meet with you alone to do the walk-through.”

  Her gut clenched as her mind raced through the list of last-minute details she’d planned to finish before tomorrow. “Why?”

  Juan shrugged, then his eyes twinkled. “If he finds anything wrong, he can blame you right away.”

  “Same time tomorrow?”

  “Nope. The guy’s already here.”

  “Now?” She glanced over Juan’s shoulder, expecting to find the man standing a few feet away. “Where?”

  “Upstairs on the fourth floor.”

  “Did you meet him?”

  Juan shook his head. “Must have come in when Pedro and I were fixing the hallway window on the second floor.”