Page 39 of Nothing To Lose
If he hates it, that's okay. I’ll be bummed, but I won’t be upset. This project is going to make up a huge portion of my final grade for this class, and I'm proud of how it's turning out so far. I've worked on it most of the week and throughout the weekend, while Isaac installed flooring. He finished last night, so we're going to celebrate by going to Sunday brunch atThe Nooklater this morning.
"It's not done, but now seems like a good time."
I'm holding my laptop against my chest, nervous to show him because it's probably childish. He looks gorgeous all sleep rumpled, grinning at me like he's won some kind of prize other than getting to sleep in this morning. For someone who comes across so stoic and quiet, he really is one of the happiest people I've ever met. He never stops smiling at me, like everything I do is something special. Yesterday I punched the bag hard enough to make it move and he lifted me up and spun me around like I'd won a medal. I'd be wary and weirded out if it didn't feel so genuine coming from him. Then again, maybe I'm just starved for positive attention.
"Are you going to show me or not?" Isaac asks, laughing.
"It's okay if you think it's dumb."
"Come on, I wanna see," he says, making grabby hands at my laptop.
"Okay," I say, and take a breath to steady my nerves. Scooting closer to Isaac, I settle into his side, tucked into the crook of his arm. "Mmm, you're so warm."
"Tyler," he growls, but his warning is lighthearted, making me laugh.
"Fine. Here."
Instead of giving him a big speech about what he's looking at, I pass him the laptop so he can look for himself. I side-eye him while he looks it over, waiting to see any kind of reaction, but he just stares at the screen, using the directional pad to scroll up and down and around the 3D image. I've shown him this program before, because he seemed interested when I talked about 3D modeling, but I hope he recognizes what it is.
"This is my gym," he says thoughtfully. "You… this is… wow." He turns his head away from the screen to look down at me. "You really made this?"
"Yeah. I hope it's okay to use your gym as the subject for my final project. I thought, since I'm here all the time and I've gotten a good feel for the place, and I used your measurements, plus remember when I asked to see your equipment list?" He nods, watching me closely. "Well, I got all the specs from that list, or called the manufacturer if I didn't have enough information. Every piece of the design is true to size and function, so there's the correct recommended space behind each treadmill, for example. And—" I reach over and click to change the screen to another version. "You mentioned that the one thing you felt you were missing was a ring, but there's no room for it, right?"
He just stares at me, waiting for more. He's either going to laugh at me or throw me a parade when I'm done. He's definitely not upset, though, so that's what really counts.
”Anyway, I played around with the space, and took some more measurements, then researched the equipment you use.”Pause for dramatic effect. “If you cut your cardio equipment by twenty percent, specifically to one treadmill and one stationary bike in this brand and model, you could not only fit a small practice ring, but the space will feel more open. You’d even out the cost of the equipment, too.”
He's quiet for a few minutes, reading over my notes then moving the camera angle on the 3D image of his prospective gym setup.
"You're a fucking genius, Ty. You really… all of this is legit?"
"Yeah, every aspect is based on true data, just as if you were hiring a high-tech design firm."
"Shit. This is amazing!"
"Yeah? You like it? You don't mind me using your gym as a dummy build?"
"I don't just not mind. Can I—can we—use these plans for real?"
"Seriously?"
"Fuck yeah, seriously. You solved almost all my problems at once with this. I feel like I should be hiring you for real."
Even if he's just placating me to make me feel good, his excitement over my project makes me feel like I can do anything. He makes me feel like I can do anything.
"Oh shit, you even did the kitchen and office?"
I nod. "And once I can see and get measurements for the apartment upstairs, I can do that, too."
"You are exceptional, Tyler. I hope your teachers realize that. If not, send me their email addresses. I'll send them updates and photos of the real finished project."
"Thank you," I say, pushing my face into his neck.
"I don't know what you're thanking me for. I'm the one that should be thanking you. Or paying you." The subtle way his jaw tightens, and the slight flash of something in his eyes is the only sign that his excitement has dimmed.
Something I've learned about Isaac over the last week is that he's stubborn and hyper-independent. He'll go out of his way to do a two or three person job on his own, and he not only won't ask for help, but he's not likely to accept it when or if it's offered. He seems to think requiring any sort of support or assistance is a personal failing. I have no doubt he's beating himself up over using my plans and not paying me. It's the same reaction he has if I pay for dinner, or if I order something he needs. I had to pretend the fan rentals were because the smell of paint bothers me so he would even accept the delivery, and then he felt bad for not finding a way to get the fans on his own.
It's ridiculous. I've been taking up his space, time, and attention for over a week and he's likely behind schedule because of it. Whatever pressure he puts on himself is never applied to other people. In fact, he has the opposite reaction to anyone else needing help. He takes on other people's needs as his personal responsibility. It's that self-sacrificing nature that encouraged him to take in a stranger in the first place, and then to let me stay.
