Page 16 of Love You Madly

“What are you two up to? Not planning to break out my window screen and run off to see boys at the rock quarry, I hope,” she jokes with a wink.

“Brooke offered me a job at the coffee shop,” I explain, quickly wiping icing off my mouth, silently hoping Mom won’t mention the extra weight I’ve put on.

“That’s wonderful, sweetheart! Something to get your mind off things. And I’ve seen how busy that shop gets,” she says with a tone that’s half-supportive, half-condescending. “You’ll definitely get your steps in. The exercise will be good for you and the baby.”

I take a deep breath, biting back any snarky retort. My mom means well, after all. Her support, while sometimes backhanded, is still a relief. I turn back to Brooke with a smile. “Alright, Boss Lady. When do you want me to start?”

Brooke beams, excitement lighting up her face. “Howabout tomorrow morning? You can just come in for a couple of hours, and I’ll show you the ropes. And don’t worry, we’ll keep the blender far away from you. No blended coffees until you’ve been there at least a month.”

I glance at Mom, silently asking if she can watch Sara. She nods, already heading back to her crossword puzzle, clearly satisfied.

“Guess that means I’ll be there!” I say, feeling a mix of nerves and anticipation bubbling up. Maybe this is exactly what I need–a new start, a new routine, and Brooke’s fresh cinnamon rolls every day.

eight

DOG DAYS ARE OVER - FLORENCE + THE MACHINE

OWEN - MAY 17, 2013

The final day of my Steamfitters apprenticeship arrives, not with ease, but with a tension that buzzes beneath my pride. The last two months have been a whirlwind—late nights, grueling hours, every task piling up on the weight of the one before it—all leading to this moment: the day I become a Journeyman.

I stand on the job site, hands rough and calloused, marked by years of labor. The sun beats down relentlessly, casting long shadows over the construction site. Around me, my coworkers are busy putting the finishing touches on the new cancer center for the children’s hospital in Iowa City. The building, a gleaming mix of steel and glass, reflects the sun’s glare like a beacon. It’s beautiful, yes, but there's something else—something raw about knowing what this structure represents and the lives it could change.

As I tighten the last bolts on the high-pressure steam line, a knot tightens in my chest, winding tighter with each turn ofthe wrench. This shift marks the completion of my eighty-five-hundred hours for the Steamfitters Local. I’ve poured five years of sweat and grit into this apprenticeship, but the gravity of this moment? It feels too big to grasp. Over four years of relentless working hours, testing my limits both on the job and in the classroom since I first applied back in 2008. Now, standing here, the weight of it all hits like a punch.

The past two months have pushed me harder than I ever imagined. Endurance. Skill. I’ve been navigating the labyrinth of this cancer center job—blueprints, welding, pipe fitting—everything a test of my mettle. I learned from seasoned journeymen, soaked in their knowledge like my survival depended on it. My best friend Will convinced me to start this journey five years ago, stood by my side through it all, showing me the ropes, pushing me to be better, faster, sharper.

And now it’s finally paying off. Literally. When I clock in on Monday, I’ll be walking in as a Journeyman pipefitter—five dollars an hour richer, but that’s not what’s making my heart race. It’s the finality, the pressure, the realization that after all these years, all the sweat and stress, I’m stepping into something bigger. Something I can’t afford to fail at.

"Congratulations, Owen," my supervisor Tim says, clapping me on the back. His hand is heavy, solid, like everything about him—burly, thick beard, gruff voice that commands respect. "You’ve earned this."

I nod, swallowing the mix of pride and relief swelling in my chest. This is it—the moment I’ve been working toward for years. With my journeyman’s card, I’ll have more responsibility, more opportunities, and most importantly, I’ll be able to provide a better life for Barrett. Everything I've pushed myself through has been for him.

But as I pack up my tools, ready to leave the job site behind, a strange hollowness settles over me. There’s a sense ofaccomplishment, sure, but it feels incomplete. Despite the long hours, the sweat, and the physical exhaustion, she’s still there—the woman with dark hair and piercing green eyes. She’s been haunting my thoughts, visiting me every night in my dreams. No matter how hard I try to shake her off, she lingers in the back of my mind, an ache that won’t fade.

I push the thought away as I head home to clean up. Tonight’s supposed to be about celebrating, about forgetting everything for a while. Will and I made plans with my stepbrother, Luke, and they’ve both promised me free drinks in honor of my journeyman status. It’s the perfect excuse for a low-key night with the guys—something I’ve been looking forward to for weeks.

Even as I think about the drinks and the laughter, that sense of something missing gnaws at me. It’s been there for a while, growing louder with each passing day. And no matter how much I try to drown it out, I can’t shake the feeling that this is just the start of a much bigger battle. One that has nothing to do with pipefitting.

As I walk toward the Black 'N Gold Bar & Grille, the sounds of laughter and music grow louder, pulling me out of the quiet weight of my thoughts. It’s a stark contrast to the suffocating silence of my apartment—when Barrett isn’t there, at least. Up ahead, Luke and Will are already waiting, leaning against the brick wall like they’ve been up to no good. Luke, with his shaggy blond hair and those mischievous gray eyes, looks particularly pleased with himself.

I raise an eyebrow, suspicion creeping in. “What’s going on?” I ask as I approach.

“We’re just here to celebrate, buddy,” Will says, clapping me on the back, his voice full of reassurance. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, always the steady one.

“Yeah, we figured a few drinks would be a good start,” Luke adds, his grin widening into something more dangerous.

I nod, a half-smile tugging at my lips. “Sounds good to me.” But in the back of my mind, I’m bracing myself. Knowing these two, there’s no way this night ends without some kind of chaos. If they’ve hired a stripper for my turnout day, I swear I’m gonna kill them both.

We push through the door, and the noise hits me like a wave. The dimly lit bar is packed, the smell of alcohol thick in the air, the hum of rowdy conversation filling the space. It’s the kind of place where the energy is electric, where people come to forget, to let loose. The jukebox in the corner is blasting some classic rock, the bass heavy and relentless. My eyes catch on a sign above it, glowing under the backlight:

DO NOT play Creed on this jukebox. Your song will be skipped. NO REFUNDS! I fucking hate Creed.

- Hunter Holloway, Owner

We will also skip Nickelback, Hoobastank, Matchbox 20, Hinder, Buck Cherry, Def Leppard, the song “Wagon Wheel” or any other overplayed terrible music.

Thank you for your understanding and remember, no Creed.

---