Lovely Shades of Me

 A thick bead of sweat dripped off my forehead. I had been crawling around in this attic since seven this morning, judging by my increasing perspiration and from the subtle growling from my stomach, I was sure it was almost lunch time. My thermos of coffee was long gone. Coffee! Lunch! Damn.  I completely forgot about the “brunch lunch” meeting I had this morning. The thought of sipping mimosas while trying to secure a contract made me want to vomit. Don’t get me wrong, I loved mimosas as much as the next gal, but how exactly was I suppose to prove myself better than the guys over mimosas? It is hard enough to get most men to respect me once they realize I am in fact female. Occasionally I had to use my family name to keep investors from walking away. There was a fine dance between being confident as a woman contractor and having to use my clout as a Hamilton. But I left all of that up to Josh. He was the one that made all of my appointments.  Josh had already rescheduled this meeting for me twice, standing up “the richest man east of the Mississippi River” a third time would not be an option. I glanced down at my watch; “11:22”  “Damn damn.”  I mumbled to myself in my best Doc. Brown impression even though no one could hear me. My own geeky little “Back to the Future” reference made me laugh at myself. It was the little things that kept me going, sweating like a bulldog in this Georgia humidity.  I stretched out, in what I was sure was some sort of yoga pose, to reach around a beam and into my tool belt to grab my phone. I was positioned like a gymnast (a clumsy one) on a beam at the tippy top of this historical, mid century gothic style home. This type of home is a rare sight in the deep south. Admiring it from the top like this is like a breath of fresh air.  But the attic of this home was a complete waste of space. Where I sat wedged between the roof and the beam, there was not a lot of room. I could barely move around up here. However below me there was an 8 foot drop and a decent size room that was completely being wasted as an attic. It was like a blank canvas.  A little dry wall, some paint, flooring...I let my mind wander a bit. From my position overlooking the attic, I could see so much for this room. So much potential here. If I were doing a complete remodel of this home, and not just a simple repair, I would turn this space into a beautiful office for the reverend. I could imagine a built-in bookcase full of hymnals. The desk would go there, near the window. From this high up you could see the church.  The church where I grew up and my mother and father were married, and my grandparents before them. The church where my mother prayed every week that I would some day "come to my senses" and "settle down." Since the day I was born she visioned me getting married in that very church. At this point, I am not sure that will ever happen. At 33 years old, I wasn't exactly a spring chicken. It is not that I didn't want to get married. But for the past decade, I have been married to my work. And I loved my job. This! This right here. Sitting in the silence of an old house,  letting it speak to me. This is why I LOVED my job. I loved getting to see a blank canvas of walls and envision the future it could hold.  Of course, I was only dreaming. The church budget wouldn’t allow for such a major remodel for the parsonage. They could barely afford to pay me to repair this attic fan. The deacon scoffed at the idea of removing the attic fan completely and modernizing this old house a bit. The old reverend and his wife couldn’t afford to remodel this space and pay out of pocket. I could donate the work and maybe even use it as a tax write off. If I could snag this new investor I might need the tax right off. THE INVESTOR! s**t! I let my mind wander again.  The tips of my fingers were covered in so much dust and dirt that I was initially denied access to my phone. To be honest, I am not sure why I even have fingerprint access on this stupid phone. My fingers are never clean enough to actually activate it. As I was punching in the last digit of my pass code, the phone slipped out of my hand. It landed on the attic floor below with a loud “CRACK.” “f**k!” This job was definitely not paying enough to pay for a new phone. “Is everything alright sweetie?” I heard Mrs. Iverson call up. I am sure she heard the last profanity that carelessly slipped from my mouth. I had forgotten I was in my pastor’s home. By the end of the day I am sure the prayer request would be going around to pray for my soul. My mother would hear through the grapevine and I was in for one hell of a lecture. Everything I do disappoints my mother. Not only did I choose the most unlady like profession I have the mouth of a sailor...on leave. “I’m alright mam!” I called back down, “ I am almost done, just a few more minutes.” “What was that? Turn it back on?” “NO! Not yet!” I just needed to tighten this last bolt, but I didn’t need to get my finger sliced off, or blown off this beam before I was finished. I didn’t really have time though to climb down my ladder, and go and find the pastor or his wife. I needed to finish this up and get a hold of Josh soon. He was going to kill me. I was trying to finish up as fast as I could, when Josh came bursting in the attic door. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” He startled me a bit.  “No, it's Josh, your assistant. Remember me? Or have you completely lost your marbles? Or only converted to Catholicism?” Josh smirked. I was not amused. “What about the darn Catholics?” The old Southern Baptist Pastor had now entered the room. “They might seem enticing with their wine, but don’t forget they say no to birth control!” “Lord Jesus give me strength,” I silently pleaded. I did not need to get into a spiritual debate right now if I was ever going to make my meeting, or really do anything for the rest of the day.  The pastor would keep me here forever if we got into this again. As much as I admired Rev. Iverson, we had been debating philosophy, politics and current events since I was seven years old. I can argue with the best of them. My mother still swears that I should have been a lawyer. Being a lawyer would have evidently been an more acceptable profession for a lady. Just another one of my many disappointments to add to the long list. I saw Josh mouthing silently to me "Don't you dare." He didn't want me to get into it with the pastor either.  “No one is becoming a Catholic;” I said. If I wasn’t in such a hurry I might have taken the time to tease him a bit. “Now Rev. I’m almost done here, why don’t you go fire her up.”  “RY-UN” Josh shouted, drawing out my first name to almost have 3 syllables. “Are you just goin’ to ignore me?” “Planned on it.” Now Josh, I could tease, far too easily. “Did you forget about your brunch lunch?!” I am almost positive he used the term brunch lunch just to annoy me. He knew just how to set me off.  “No Josh, I was just about to text you. If you look right behind ya, you will see that my phone is currently a little far out of reach.” I said as I rolled my eyes.  “Please tell me that your phone is down here because you were tryin’ to ignore distractions and NOT because you dropped it.” “Suure. whateva’ makes you sleep at night bud.” “Ryan Alexander” Josh started in on me. If most people didn’t already call me by both names, it would sound much more intimidating. “You can’t break ANOTHER phone.” Sometimes I swear, Josh forgets who's boss around here. Who am I kidding? I wouldn’t be able to keep my head on straight if it weren’t for him. Josh is absolutely the best assistant, best confident, and best friend anyone could ever have. I would be absolutely lost without him. “Well if that new case you got me is worth s**t, it should be alright, ya reckon’?” “Umm-hhhm”  We heard the sound of a very judgy baptist not so subtly clearing her throat at the doorway. Josh turned around and saw Mrs. Iverson holding two mason jars of sweet tea. “Thank you mam’ but we really need to be goin,” Josh turned around and announced, putting heavy emphasis on his words. He was really agitated, and in rare form. “RAY!" Josh shouted.  Oh, now he was calling me by my nickname, he was trying to sweeten me up. "PLEASE tell me you are coming down. NOW!" Okay now he was just throwing a tantrum.  “Josh, don’t be rude. Take the glasses.” I commanded. "I know your mama taught you better than that.” “It’s hotter in here than a sinner in church,” Mrs. Iverson handed one glass to Josh and continued talking while walking across the room with the other. “And both yall should know exactly how that feels.” She winked and the whole attic filled with laughter. I almost fell off my beam.  “Mrs. Iverson if you don’t mind, can you leave the tea right there? I just need to clean on up and I will be outta yalls hair.” Mrs. Iverson set the tea down and left the room. I tried to start gathering my tools when Josh honed in on me. “Oh no! None of that now. I will send…” He started but his voice was drowned out by the kick starting of the fan. He pulled me out of the attic. “Now. What I said was, I will have Bobby get on up here to clean up. YOU have a meeting.” "I thought we fired Bobby?" I asked.  "We fired Billy." “No. I'm pretty sure it was Bobby." "It don't matter who got fired. SOMEONE other than YOU can clean this up. Stop trying to be such a control freak."  "Takes one to know one" I muttered. "RY-UN AlexandER! You have GOT to make this meeting." He was going to force me to attend this meeting even if he had to throw me over his shoulders and carry me the whole way kicking and screaming. "Josh, it is too late. The meeting is all the way across town, and I need to change. We should just cancel.” “Stop trying to get out of this. We NEED this.” He was right. I just didn’t see how it was possible. “Can we just postpone, make this a dinner meeting?” “No! He is getting on a plane this afternoon. This is our last chance.” Once again, he was right.  “But I need to finish up here, and my clothes. I just don’t see how.”   “Well he is meeting you here, I’ve already texted him the address.” “JOSH! I know I am not the girliest girl, but I at least like to be presentable. Jesus H. Christ," he was going to kill me. “I can’t go into this meeting lookin like a hot stinky sweaty mess.” “Don’t worry I have you a shirt and toiletries in the truck.” Bless this beautiful dark man. What would I do without him? As if he was reading my mind, Josh answered my internal question. “You would probably be married, have 2 point 5 kids and that PHD like your mama always wanted for you.” “Law degree,” I corrected.  Josh was just another disappointment on my mother’s list. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "It's just not right ya know.” She would say. “Men and women being as close as you two.” Her voice would become super high pitched at the end of her sentence, like she was talking about the juiciest gossip on the block and not her youngest daughter.  “He is my best friend mom!” From the time I was 11 years old I would plead innocent. “There is nothing going on between me and Josh!”  What I am sure was reassuring as a young teen became an annoyance as we became young adults. Especially as mixed couples became more commonly accepted here in the south. In the United States, laws that forbid interracial couples from marrying, was officially overturned with the ruling by the Supreme Court in the 1967 case of  Loving v Virginia. People of every color of the rainbow could marry whomever they wanted for nearly half a century, but it took about that long for acceptance among some people. While I didn't give a damn what anyone thought about me, my mother sure did.  When Ms. Darlene's daughter down the street married a black man from Detroit, my mama thought that I would surely "come clean" and admit I was dating Josh.  "You know Ryan-Alexander your daddy and I would be perfectly fine if you wanted to date Josh. This ain't the 60s no more baby. No one cares that he's black." "Mama, I'm not NOT dating Josh because he's black. I love that he's a strong, confident and beautiful black man. I'm not dating him because we are JUST friends."   I countered her argument with the same statement every damn time. I sounded like a broken record repeating myself over and over, every time my mama got the chance to interrogate me. While I loved her acceptance, even if it was maybe 20 years too late, it was nice to know that even in the deep south people can grow and change.  “But you finish each other’s sentences! “ She was not going to let this one go.  “Yes Mama, which is why we are great FRIENDS!”  “It is just not right ya know. It is not how things are done.” “I don’t care how things are DONE Mama, I am happy with MY life! Mama, can’t you just be happy for me?” “I'm just sayin' one day you will wake up and realize this friendship has pushed away every single marriage prospect our there. Honey, one day you are going to wake up and wish you weren't so alone." The way she hissed when she spat out the words "friendship" made my blood boil.  What was wrong with being alone? I have every thing I could ever want. Besides, if I had a husband I would never get the credit I deserved for my business. I have fought tooth and nail to build this business and I am sure as hell not going to let some man burn it down.  When people hear that "Ryan-Alexander" is their contractor they know they are getting the BEST money can buy, even if I am just a girl with a boy's name.  Thinking of my mother and all the ways I had to prove her wrong on my long walk down to the truck energized me. I was ready for this meeting. A new influx of cash could completely change my business forever. I was ready to meet this Andrew Moore.