To Build a Home

21 | Sleep Walking

I could hear two voices outside the guest bedroom window. I rolled out of bed and opened the white curtain. It was almost dawn, a pink sliver of sky at the bottom of the morning grayness, the street lights still flickering, and the sleeping cars foggy with moisture. Mrs. Whitman and Mrs. Harrison were on the sidewalk across the street below, in their yoga pants and turtlenecks, arguing about the appropriate speed of their daily walk. They stopped when they noticed me in the window and waved.

I tried to fall back asleep, but then the birds started chirping and the trash truck made its way down the street, wheezing and sneezing with its mechanical start and stop. I listened to the whir of the air condition and watched the white curtains float in its breeze from the bed. The morning orchestra never used to bother me, the crowded city street outside my window filled with people and cars and horns. But now, in Windber, anything that sliced through the suburban silence, even two women arguing, could keep me awake.

Downstairs, the house was dark and quiet, patiently waiting for us to fill it with movement and noise in a few hours. I figured if I wasn't going to sleep, I could get a start on some work over a cup of tea on the back porch. My feet were cold on the wood floor and I considered going back upstairs to put a shirt on. From the foyer, I could see a dark shape on the couch in the living room. I wasn't sure if it was my sleepy imagination, still trying to separate dream from reality, until the shape moved.

"Jesus, Darren!" I yelled. "You scared me!"

It was then I realized that he had been sleeping. He stumbled to his feet, tangled in the blanket, knocking over pillows and a coffee table book. He looked around frantically, settling on my face in the darkness and exhaling with relief.

"Did you sleep here?" I asked.

I could tell his mouth was dry with sleep by the raspy way he spoke, his eyes still fighting to fully open. "Just in case," he said.

I touched the bandage on my neck and then crossed my arms in front of my naked chest. "Don't worry, I wasn't planning on carrying any wood panels in the middle of the night." I walked into the kitchen, shaking my head at the notion.

Darren wrapped himself in the blanket and slowly followed me, his bare feet heavy on the wood floor behind me. "Why are you up so early?"

"Couldn't sleep," I said. I filled the kettle with water and put it on the lit stove. Then, without asking Darren if he wanted a cup of coffee, I turned the machine on.

When I turned around, Darren was curled up into a ball on his chair at the dining room table. He was sitting on his feet and the blanket was draped over his head like a snuggly hood. "Are you nervous about your first solo estimate?" he asked.

"I thought you said it was going to be easy." I took two mugs from the cabinet next to the sink without searching for them, no longer a stranger in the kitchen. Then I poured the coffee for Darren and brought it over to him.

"It should be. I can go over it with you if you're nervous."

Just as I was about to sit down, the tea kettle began to sing. I ran over so the high-pitch ring wouldn't wake the baby. When I turned off the stove, we both looked at the monitor and waited for a sound, but it remained static. I poured the hot water into the mug with the teabag and joined Darren at the table. Steam warmed our faces and by inhaling the fumes of morning coffee and tea, we were already more awake.

I sorted through the files that were stacked on the table until I found the folder labeled Roberts. Inside were the notes from Darren's initial walkthrough of their master bathroom, including photos and measurements, and an itemized list of materials with the associated cost. Later that morning I would be on my own at their house two towns over to present the quote and collect a deposit. Darren had assigned the project to me after I tagged along for a few estimates, including Amelia's. Since the Roberts' project was small and I had been there from the beginning of the process, plus the customers had been fairly decisive, Darren thought it was the perfect trial estimate.