Page 25 of True Sight
“Like I said, he practically invited himself over. He moved here from London last month and I guess is lonely or something. Honestly I’ve been looking for an excuse to get out of it all week,” I sigh and shrug my shoulders at her.
“But you haven’t,” she states.
“I haven’t what?”
“You haven’t canceled,” she clarifies as if it were obvious what she meant.
“No, because I haven’t been able to come up with a good enough excuse.”
“Oh please,” she scoffs and flicks a hand at me again. “If you really wanted to cancel you would have. The fact that you haven’t says a lot.”
I scowl at her, unsure of what she means. “Says a lot about what?”
“It says that you want to hangout with him. It says that you might actually be opening up to someone else for once which is a good sign of growth.”
“Or maybe it shows that I’m losing my mind and I should cancel anyway. He’s a client, I work for him. I don’t become friends with my clients, I have enough friends already. I don’t need any more.”
“We could all use more friendships in our lives, especially people like you.”
“Oh, people like me who are sad pathetic loners that do the same things every day and everyone sees as a grumpy asshole?” I snidely say. Her eyes go wide at my words.
“Nooo,” she drags out the word slowly before giving me a sad smile. “People like you who have lost so much in their lives and deserve all the healthy, stable, supportive relationships they can get. You deserve more than what you have, Conrad, and I don’t know, maybe this Henry guy could become a really good friend. You’ll never know and will never learn if you never open yourself up to it.”
I blink a few times at her and try to understand her point. The more it sinks in, the more I wonder if she might be right. That maybe all these years I’ve closed myself off because I didn’t think I was worthy of having more people in my life. Everyone—my parents and my grandmother—had been taken away from me and so I convinced myself I wasn’t worthy of anyone else. Maybe thisfriendshipwith Henry isn’t such a bad idea after all. She hadn’t been wrong about Annie, as annoying as it is to admit. Maybe she’ll be right about this too.
13
HENRY
The rest of the week goes by in a blur of Pop 2000 hits and studio tile samples. Things are moving along quickly with the renovations which is great because I’m ready to get into the main teaching room to hold classes instead of the supply closet sized space we’re using currently. Alex and I have gotten into a good routine of meeting weekly to schedule classes and get our choreography planned. She even started testing out a new rhythmic lifting class that is booking out almost as soon as we open it. Even without an in-person studio, business is exploding and I couldn’t be happier.
Gran would be so proud.
“Alright, London, here’s where we’re at for the week,” my contractor grunts in my direction, tucking a tiny pencil between his head and the cap he never seems to be without. Hardie is a good man and had given me the moniker shortly after our first meeting. I didn’t hesitate to tell him how ironic it is that he is a contractor and his name is ‘Hardie.’
“Lay it on me,” I answer, setting my hands down on top of the makeshift workbench his team had constructed out ofscraps of wood. The front desk I ordered hasn’t been delivered yet so this is the only flat surface to stand at currently.
“The front studio is about sixty percent there. The drywall is up, the lights are installed, and the floors are being installed next week.”
“Lovely.”
“Yeah, I thought you’d like that. We can’t put the floors in until we paint, so you need to decide on that by Tuesday or my guys will get bored. You don’t want bored guys; bored guys leave and don’t come back,” he explains it simply but with a hint of annoyance that tells me he’s speaking from experience.
“I promise to make my decision by Monday. I’m just between two colors. Am I allowed to go in this weekend and do swatches on the walls?”
“Swatches are fine, just don’t do the whole room on your own, you’ll fuck it up and I’ll have to redo it and charge you for it,” the sturdy man—covered in tattoos and scars I’m sure he got from some power tool—directs.
“I promise, just swatches and nothing else.” I place my hands over my heart as a promise. He looks at me over the bridge of his nose with his lips pulled into a straight line, unamused.
“We’re hoping to have this lobby space done by the end of the month, then next month in November we’ll do the locker rooms. December will be about installing fixtures, all the techie crap you need, and final touches.”
“Oh, Hardie, that’s great to hear.” Unable to hold myself back I give him a hug out of excitement but quickly let go when he growls at me.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s a modern day miracle. You know, some of us contractorscanwork on a timeline,” he relents.
“Oh, I know you can, that’s why I hired you in the firstplace.” I pat him on the shoulder which he seems to dislike almost as much as the hug.
“Great, well I need to get home. The lady is making meatloaf,” he shares, rubbing his stomach in anticipation.
