Page 70 of Nothing To Lose
"How could this get through the building inspection?" I mutter to myself. I paid for an inspection before I signed the lease, wary of any catastrophic issues and building codes in an older building like this.
"A basic inspection couldn't pick up on this unless there's water damage. If we hadn't opened this wall, you probably wouldn't have found out until you noticed an obvious leak or something burst."
I exhale sharply. "What’s the damage?"
He scratches at his beard. "We're looking at a full replacement for this section at least. New pipes, new fittings… It's gonna take time, and it ain't gonna be cheap. And that's hoping there aren't any major issues with the rest of the room." He pauses, looking at me sympathetically. Steve is a nice guy, and I trust him. He's been straightforward from the beginning, helping me with the process of converting two separate large bathrooms into a larger combined space. It's by far been the biggest and most expensive part of this entire remodel. And that was before this.
"The good news is that I'm pretty sure the toilets are good, I just need to double check the lines behind the sinks to make sure you aren't going to have more trouble down the line."
I nod and drag a hand down my face, inhaling through my nose. This hits harder than any punch I've ever taken.
I planned for setbacks—any smart business owner taking on a project like this would—and I could have handled this with my original budget. It would have hurt, maybe would have wiped me out for any more big projects, but on top of everything, and now with the news about the town ordinances and all the other extra expenses, this might be it. This is where I stop treading water, choking a little every time a wave hits, and get pulled under by a cinder block tied to my ankles.
"Can you give me an estimate?"
"I'm assuming you'll want to do the rebuild yourself?" I nod. If I can do it myself, I will, no matter how much work it is. "I need to sit down and do some figures, but with materials and labor, I could do it for twelve."
I'm biting down on the inside of my cheek, but I nod curtly. I know he's giving me a heavy discount on labor with that number. Materials and permits alone are likely to eat most of that up. It's a kindness that I probably wouldn't accept if I had any choice at all. I need to remember to thank Mac and Anders again for the recommendation.
I don't hear anything Steve says after that. My mind is racing, trying to find a solution, figuring out what I can do without or put off so I can prioritize this. There's no safety net left. It was gone when Mr. Jensen notified me of the new ordinances. But this needs to be done before I can even get to that point, and there's really no choice other than to take it one crisis at a time. I sunk everything I have into this gym. Every dollar saved, every grueling twelve-hour shift followed by whatever second or third job I could pick up, every punch taken. Every day spent doing the bare minimum to take care of myself, every penny pinched, every sleepless night agonizing over all the problems that money could have solved. Like a better place to live for my family, for one.
I can't take another hit like this. I'll do anything to make this work. I can't lose everything and fail before the doors ever open.
I just need to come up with a solution and fast.
"Isaac?"
Tyler stands in the doorway, head tilted, concern written all over his face. He must have walked in while I was spiraling. What time is it? He's not supposed to be home until later this afternoon. How long have I been standing here, staring at the hole in my dream, lost in the panic of everything falling to pieces around me?
I try to smile, because he might be the only good thing I have to cling to right now, but it feels wobbly.
"What's going on?" He approaches warily, wrapping an arm around my waist.
"Plumbing's screwed. The whole thing needs to be replaced."
His arm tightens around me, and I relax into his scent. I always imagine he smells like books and academia when he comes home after school, especially if he's wearing one of his cardigans or his glasses. Not even my sexy professor fantasy can pull me out of this funk, though. I'm holding back tears, not wanting to give in to the fucking hopelessness I feel.
There's no panic or stress in his words when he looks up at me and shrugs.Fucking shrugs."We'll figure it out."
"Yeah, I'm not sure how I can figure out almost thirty thousand dollars' worth of fucked before my six months is up. And that's not even knowing if I'll have the clientele to keep the lights on after that."Especially after the town official made me feel like I'm not welcome or wanted here.
"We'll find the money," he says confidently.
Just like that. Like it's easy. Like it's a matter of looking under a few couch cushions and pulling out a spare few thousand dollars here and there, or like skipping my five-dollar meal atThe Nookonce a week will be enough to save that much money.
Something inside me snaps.Isnap.
"It's nice you think it's so simple," I say, sharper than I really mean to.
Tyler balks, his posture going rigid. "I didn't mean–"
"You don't get it, Ty. You don't know what it's like to scrape by, to count every penny, work yourself to the bone, and still come up short." I step away from him, putting space between us. "You don't know what it's like to have the entire system rigged against you, because poverty is a generational spiral that's impossible to rise above. You don't know what it feels like to be turned away because your hands are calloused and dirty. To be denied opportunities because of your address or lack of education." I throw my arms out in frustration, and he flinches. Because whether he recognizes it or not, he sees what they see, and expects the worst from me. Running my hands through my hair, I hook my arms behind my neck to keep from frightening him further, and pace.
Silence hangs thick between us. Tyler's lips press together, his shoulders drawing in like he's trying to make himself smaller.
What am I doing?
I know that far-off look, the tension in his jaw, the way his hands curl at his sides. He's not pissed or upset over my outburst. He's hurt.
