Page 16 of Paradox
“Because I told you to.”
“And how did it get over there?”
“You don’t get to ask me questions.”
“And you don’t get to throw a tantrum and—”
“Get the fucking hammer, Jin! It’s not too late for me to drive you back to your parents.”
Even from up here I can see him swallow down his impulsive need to respond, but he turns towards where the hammer fell, and retrieves it without so much as a glance back up at me.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I ask him once the hammer is back in my hand.
He points back inside, but still doesn’t look at me.
“Are all the windows done?”
He nods.
“You’ve dusted?”
He nods again.
“And the floors?”
“I haven’t been slacking off.”
Fuck, I hate him so much. Every time I think he’s accepted his place, he climbs back out of his hole. “You’ve got another big day tomorrow. The couch needs washing.”
This time he doesn’t do a goddamn thing; he just stands there like someone pulled out his power cord, and with it, his will to live.
“Just hand me that board.”
He needs to lift his head to see where I’m pointing, but he refuses to let me see his face.
Heading to the back of the cabin, he returns with the two planks and holds them up.
“I didn’t ask for both.”
Still nothing. He just leans one against the cabin and lifts the other higher.
An icy wind howls past, stabbing at my skin through the holes in my flannel, and a handful of juvenile grouse fly over my head.
“Get up here,” I demand of Jin but offer no follow through, because I'm already pounding at the surrounding boards with the end of the hammer’s handle. If there are more infested boards I need to find them now.
Careless with my movements, I knock the pile of removed boards as I shuffle backward. Too focused on what I’m doing, I don’t even notice they’re sliding away until I hear Jin grunt behind me. I don’t know how, and I don't know when, but he’s on the roof, crouching behind me, perched between solar panels, one wayward board stopped with his foot and the others in his arms.
“Termites,” I tell him, or maybe I just declare it, cause god knows it wasn’t an invite to a conversation.
Looking back to where his foot is holding the wayward plank in place, I reach my arm out and make a grabby hand at it. The little shit remains frozen, so I stare him dead in the eye, and repeat my motions with more emphasis.
Seconds tick by; five, maybe ten. And when I cease eye contact to look at his foot again, he raises it, allowing the plank to slide further off the roof.
“Cut the bullshit, Jin.”
“Say, thank you.”
“Masters don’t give thanks to their slaves.”
