By Lucy

I set my alarm for 7 on Saturday morning. I didn’t want to sleep in too much and mess up my internal clock.

Me and Jeremy had made plans to go grocery shopping. One thing that was annoying about suddenly having the weekend off is that it is the Easter long weekend… everything is closed! But Wally Mart was open on Saturday.

I made myself an omelet – there was some free parmesan and leftover ham in the fridge – did some writing, put the clean dishes away and wiped down the kitchen and tidied away the recycling. I wouldn’t dare touch the dirty dishes; some people are very particular about how they like their dishes washed.

Waiting….

Waiting…

Mayhaps I should have told Jeremy to be up by a certain time. Oops.

The rush was mostly because I wanted to make a second batch of yogurt and I wanted that on before noon so I wasn’t forced to stay up to put it in the fridge.

Jeremy’s parents got up between 9 and 9:30. At 9:30, I decided he probably wasn’t going to get up early enough for me. Sure enough, at 9:50 he surfaced, but I was already warming up the car.

I went to the liquor store first – it opened at 10. I grabbed an 8 pack of the cottage springs drinks. They were good but they didn’t go down too easily, and I felt less like a ne’er-do-well relaxing with a can than sneaking shots of whisky like usual.

The Walmart here is smaller and has a more limited selection than I am used to, but then so is the NoFrills. They didn’t have sugar-free Gatorade or eggplants, so I had to go to Safeway for them.

It’s funny, there’s a scaffolding company that, presumably, wanted to call itself Safeway, but since the grocery store already existed they called themselves “Safway” instead. How clever. Most guys just call it Safeway anyway and get themselves confused.

When I got back to the house, Jeremy is awake and ready to go. I pop my yogurt in the Instant Pot and make myself some lunch before we head out again.

It was funny going grocery shopping with Jeremy, partially because the list he had was basically written by his mother, for herself, and so included entries like “small tomatoes”. I had to translate for him; small tomatoes is probably cherry tomatoes. When we got to the store the line-up for the cash was up the aisle and around the back, and I was debating waiting in line while he shopped, but by the time we were done it had gone away.

I asked Kathy if I could cook dinner and she had told me the kitchen was mine, so I spent about 3 hours cooking. Which was too much; my legs were screaming in pain from work and here I was, doing a little two-step jig by a hot stove. By the end I had Jeremy helping me so I could get everything done and take a load off, but he was a good sport about it.

I made a beet panna cotta topped with a lemon mousse, to set overnight for Easter. Both good options, for both keto because you can sub the sugar and when you are unsure how well a kitchen is equipped, although Kathy has a decent kitchen set up. Including a standing mixer that baffled her when I used it, because she forgot what it sounds like! The beets would be a bad idea and run right thru me no matter what, but the pink panna cotta looked pretty and it was nice to have a crowd to cook for.

For dinner itself I made moussaka. I miss the estate, and Simo. I followed the recipe to the letter, but for whatever reason I didn’t have enough eggplant and it looked less like a lasagna and more like meat sauce with eggplant chips swimming on top. Oh well. It was a crowd pleaser and everyone went back for seconds, yay!

Actually, the thing that made me most nervous was Scott. He’s made some offhand comment earlier about watching Jordan Peterson, and I’d cast a worried glance at Jeremy and was glad to see it reflected back. I doubt Scott is one of those… He mostly seems to watch random Facebook reels, and Peterson can sound reasonable when reduced to ten second sound bites, but it wasn’t unlike flipping something over and discovering a tarantula. Most unwelcome.

I couldn’t resist the urge to have a drink. Just one.

Sunday the internet was out, which was part of the reason my post was so late!

For breakfast I made myself an egg-white omelet with the leftover egg whites from the mousse, leftover ham, and some of my beloved blue cheese.

Write a bit, send some emails, buy some things. I can’t order my Nora chips, more’s the pity, but I can order myself some McSweeney’s jerky and beef bites, yum!

For whatever reason we ended up with 3 cartons of eggs, so Kathy suggested dyeing eggs. Yay!

As we filled up bowls with food dye and vinegar and Kathy got the eggs boiling on the stove, we all paused to reflect if this was weird. Maybe? It was a good, wholesome weird. It did feel like me and Jeremy had skipped a step and just gone from people who barely knew each other to besties who slept over and visited each other’s families on the holidays. Like he had slipped into the hole in my life that Brandon usually filled, except instead of the five years of learning to lean on each other it had been 8 months.

We had two eggs each, except Scott, who did the dad thing and painted a single egg before deciding he just wanted to watch motocross instead.

After lunch, Jeremy took me on a “tour” of Dryden. I’m not sure either of our hearts were really in it. It was a cool, crisp day out, and my legs were still sore from work. We went to a place called “Flat Rock”, which was probably the equivalent of Innisfil Beach for me, the place all the teens hung out. The Van Horne boat launch, with the ice road across lake Wabigoon slowly sinking.

We did the walk at Laura Howe marsh. I’m not even sure the last time I did this walk. Did I do it at all last year? We found some little eggs strewn about the place. On the back it said to take a picture and send them to an email for entry into the draw. Oh cool, a real egg hunt!

Stopped by Jeremy’s high school and he showed me the running track he had fundraised for. My school had a gravel track and a muddy field that was usually half torn up by jerks on snowmobiles or ATV’s.

The last thing we did was go up to the so-called “Bridge to Nowhere”, the bridge that hangs over the river that empties Wabigoon and ends basically at the mill property line, which is why it goes nowhere.

Time for Easter dinner!

Since I had already met grandma Gayle, I wasn’t nervous about this. In hindsight, I did regret not bringing my car with me so I could leave earlier than Kathy and Scott, because the beets did not like me and vacated my body within 3 hours.

From that lovely visual, dinner was very good. She made a ham, mashed potatoes, rolls, and a garden salad. Kathy brought a greek salad and of course I had my little dessert. Everyone fussed over my keto, but I was fine; just no mashed potatoes or rolls for me!

“Lucy, what about your family?”

I get so tired of answering this question. “They’re back in southern Ontario.”

“Do they visit?”

“Nope.” I even asked dad if he would and he said no, too far to drive. Except from Barrie to NS is 1’600 kilometers, plus a ferry ride, and from Barrie to Thunder Bay is 1’200 kilometers, so no it isn’t, cuz he went to visit Grammie at least once a year. He just doesn’t want to visit me.

We talked for a couple of hours, and then us kiddies were dismissed.

Jeremy took me on a tour of the property, which includes a former mine that is now just a giant sink hole. No one is sure what the mine was for; my guess is coal, because there isn’t any large amounts of granite that would indicate a gold seam, but I could be wrong.

“How do you feel about all of this?” Jeremy asked me.

I laughed, “It’s kind of like visiting the in-laws.”

“Is it?” He exclaimed.

“No.” I admitted. “I’m just not sure what else to compare it to.” If anything, it feels like I was adopted and am now meeting my blood family for the first time. I felt welcome and loved, by these people who barely know me.

Then we played pool in the basement while we waited for the adults to be done.

When was the last time I played pool? Also the first shut-down in Dryden, if I recall correctly. We’d all walk across the road from the hotel to the PI and have some drinks, cuz we were all at the Town and Country. Everyone made fun of me for holding the pool cue in three fingers, delicately, like a pencil. The Vagabond is a funny pool player as well; he takes forever to line up a shot, thinking and overthinking it.

“Where did you grow up?”

I suppose fair’s fair and I’m learning a lot about Jeremy’s childhood, somewhat with his permission. “I grew up in a small town called Alcona. We had a Sobey’s and a gas station and that was it. It wasn’t until I was 14 that we got a Timmies and a Shoppers.”

“Oh, so you left for the same reasons I did.”

“No, cuz there was Barrie too.” I sighed. “There was just… no hope there, y’know? Everyone was resigned to things sucking all the time.” That’s not really selling it. It’s hard to explain.

Monday morning. The unexpected weekend is over, back to work.

This week was mercifully better than the previous week. Duff had gone back to Manitoba to get his camper, and apparently a large part of his grumpiness the week prior was lack of sleep in the AirBnB. Now he was sleeping well and felt at home, he was relaxed.

They also shook up the teams. We ended up with Steve – the smiley fellow who said he was gonna “stick with Lucy” – and a new arrival, Mark.

I like Steve. He has a big laugh, an easy smile, and he’s good at pulling everyone back down to Earth. He’s also a fast worker, he can go even faster than Duff!

I do not like Mark. He was a good worker as well, but he clearly isn’t as skilled or fast as Duff or Steve. Which is fine, but his personality sucked. The guy clearly liked talking just to hear the sound of his own voice, and kept repeating jokes until we finally gave him a pity laugh so he’d stop! He also asked me “if I can take a joke”, which is always code for “he gets called into HR a lot”. They usually end up being the same people who think it’s great fun to tell me what the rude name for a spigot is, like I haven’t heard it a thousand times before.

I wasn’t worried. Duff might do some selfish, immature things like tying rights to my belt, but he’d do that to anyone in his “back in my day” ways. Unlike a lot of the guys, he won’t tolerate a certain level of off-color jokes, so I don’t have to throw a fit – he’ll do it for me. And I prefer not to. Scaffolders are a bro culture; prone to hazing, immature jokes and pushing the envelope. When it’s great, it’s a lot of fun, but there’s always someone who wants to take it too far and they don’t like it if you push back. Especially as the only woman on site – it will quickly descend into “women just can’t take jokes”. Adrienne suffered from that a lot, letting her embarrassment and anger show. I quickly learned to laugh along with the jokes, fire back with some sharp whit when it is safe to do so, and just walk it off the rest of the time.

We got a job in the kiln, the worst place in the mill. It’s hot and there’s lime dust everywhere. And when I say hot, I mean literally searing. The side of your body facing the kiln feels like it’s too close to a fire. It didn’t take long before everyone was dripping in sweat and red in the face, but this job has to be done before shutdown starts.

I threw my harness on for this one. I should probably have been wearing it before now, but Duff hadn’t been on my case about it so I didn’t bother. It’s not the weight, its the way the harness holds the coveralls to your skin so the sweat is being held to your skin and you feel like you can’t breathe. Tie off on this site is 10 feet anyway, unless you’re in a confined space.

Tie off heights are such an odd thing. I hate being tied off, even though I am afraid of heights, but I also prefer it. 75% of the time I’ve almost fallen on a scaffold, it was due to my own lanyard tripping me. Tie off in Thunder Bay is basically anytime your boots aren’t on the ground. The logic is, since most people are over 4 feet tall and most lanyards are 6 feet long, so you’ll hit the ground before it arrests your fall. However, and especially in a place like the mill, it will jerk you upright and might stop you from smashing your face on something. As they point out in training, most people tend to fall head-first, so you’re not even aiming at the ground with your feet.

The build is a reverse cantilever hanging over the big rollers that turn the kiln. Usually for a cantilever, you’d just build out, but we can’t touch the hot rotating kiln, so we have to build the platform at the top and then lower it down until it is level.

We just took it slow. Lots of cooldowns outside, lots of water, rotating who was where in the chain. At one point Steve dropped his adjustable wrench and we just could not find it again. It’s gone forever.

At noon, Duff pulls me aside. “I’m sure you noticed I was pretty short with you last week.”

Yeah I did, and it was completely uncalled for. I haven’t done any scaffolding since June of last year, and he was cranky from pain and lack of sleep, and pushing harder than he should have. I did a couple of dippy things, none calling for that level of response. I swallow most of that down and nod along. He won’t listen to me anyway.

“You know, I really hyped you up to Tyler.”

It was all I could do not to laugh at this. Are you joking? You even admitted Tyler had me on the list already! They like me here, I’m firmly middle of the pack in terms of quality and ease of getting along with. He did not call in a favour to get me this job and I did not need it. What kind of “you’re letting me down” crap is this?

My heart fell. I consider Duff a friend. I was looking forward to working with him again and learning more about scaffolding, not being yelled at over tiny things because he was in a bad mood. Any one of the other journeymen could do that. I might as well be back with Kevin throwing rights at my head.

I just nodded my way thru his little speech. Barely a week in and I was already glad I wasn’t planning to be back next year.

At the end of the day, I went up to the operator’s booth to sign us out. As the door slammed behind me, I said (probably too loudly, cuz it’s loud in the kiln and my head was pounding) “where’s the sign-in book!”

Scott’s head popped up from behind a computer. “Oh, hey Lucy!”

He showed me where the book is and we chatted for a bit. I had this strong irrational desire to cross paths with Scott at some point. I’m always worried someone will accuse me of lying about my line of work. I want to be witnessed. Now I am satisfied.

I requested and Jeremy kindly obliged to draw me a bath before I got home from work. My everything hurt.

The internet was dead still. I hotspotted the TV so we could watch some Youtube together. Jeremy goes back to Thunder Bay tomorrow and I didn’t want him to, but I have no right to ask him to stay.

Duff doesn’t have water in his camper, so he texted me about a shower. I suggested he try at Randy’s place, which is near the campground. I would have offered the bathroom here if he was desperate, but I figured he’d had a few drinks and shouldn’t be driving.

Tuesday was much the same. We went up to finish the lime kiln job, then we couldn’t find Leif for a new job, so we hid in the lime kiln for a couple of hours. When we did find Leif, he gave us a mod – modification – under something called the six effect tank. It was practically a hanger, but not quite, because hangers have to be “engineered” so it definitely wasn’t a hanger. The boilermakers or pipefitters or whatever they are needed it about 2 feet wider so they could get all the way around the flange to open it. It was conveniently located next to a hole cut in the cladding helpfully labelled “asbestos” that was probably not sealed or abated properly. There was no easy way to lift the gear up to it, so we set up everything for the next morning and called it good.

Duff is feeling good as well, which I am glad for. He does what he says in the hand signal for flagging, which looked more like he was doing “Walk Like An Egyptian” because he was hamming it up, and we all broke out into knee-slapping laughter.

It’s been more fun this week. I’m at my happiest when I’m “one of the boys”, telling raunchy jokes, roughhousing and generally fully engaging with the chest-thumping bellicose energy.

Actually, in a lot of ways this is my childhood fantasy. I tell people I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else and I kind of mean it. As a 6 and 7 year old and possibly younger, I always wanted to play with the boys, rough housing and shouting and using bad words. No word was more fatal to me than a baffled “but you’re a girl!” This is all that and more, just one of the boys, although the dream always breaks.

At one point I was sent to find half-meters, which are small, and staggered back to the main yard with my arms full of them. Everyone reached out to grab one and then paused. They were at chest height.

“Oh come off it, I’m not worried you’re gonna cop a feel!” I shouted. As if they even could, under my jacket, harness, coveralls and regular clothes. Duff told a story about HR appropriateness to break the tension.

I’ve been talking to Eli a bit. I shouldn’t, it’s a slippery slope. Especially with Duff pushing me away. I complained about the gloves not fitting me well and Eli pivoted that to a comment about me not having my own changeroom. Which is true, there is no ladies changeroom and I am the only lady, but I don’t change. At most, I take my boots off to slide my coveralls over top of my clothes.

“Bet you enjoy checking out everyone’s packages, don’t cha?” He leers.

“Eli!”

Needless to say, I do not. I do get a giggle when I stride into the changeroom and someone is there in their boxers, obviously not expecting a woman to be in the room and goes white as a sheet. Mostly I try to get in and out as quickly as possible, facing the wall when I am doing anything so I’m not catching accidental glimpses.

I also make a special point of trying to avoid going there when the Vagabond is in there. Just seems polite, since he is one of the guys who strips down to his boxes. It doesn’t always work out, and sometimes he enters while I am already in there. I usually get flustered when that happens and drop something, just to embarrass myself further.

Go home, make myself a Factor meal, sit downstairs in the dark. Dark place for a dark creature.

Home alone tonight. Alone with my thoughts. A dangerous place to be.

I’ve tried googling “how to get over someone”. I’ve had no problems getting over exes in the past. If anything, I usually move on too quickly, shrugging off the emotional connection easily. This is all new to me.

Articles suggest things like length of time, but we weren’t together that long. Or that you heal from negative relationships quicker, but that isn’t working either. None of the boxes are checking for why I’m not moving on.

I sink further back into the easy chair, closing my eyes and rubbing my temples. This would probably go better if I had any idea why I liked him in the first place, cuz I haven’t the foggiest.

How do people usually realize they are in love? A slow affection growing over consecutive dates? A thunderbolt epiphany, when it is someone who’s company you enjoy for other reasons, like a friend?

Mine was a lie.

Me and Rich were giddy with affection for each other. That first shut down, I video-called him every night (after his girlfriend had gone to bed, let’s not forget that detail) and told him about all my co-workers and what we had done. Then, as we approached the end of the first week, I made an off-handed comment about something the Vagabond had done, expecting an “of course he would” reply and got “who’s that” instead.

Click.

I realized I had been subconsciously editing him out of all my stories for a week. Which may be normal for some people, but for me, it was unprecedented. I, of the overthinking anxiety type, of the perfect memory… I couldn’t wrap my brain around it.

I mean, I knew why instantly. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out. It was cuz I liked him and I didn’t want to tell the guy I wanted to date that I liked someone else. I didn’t want to like this other person. I didn’t understand why I liked this other person. And I couldn’t understand why my brain had just gone rogue on me like that.

But there he is, 2 years later, still living rent-free in my brain.

I wasn’t getting anywhere on this hamster wheel.

I got up and cracked open a can. At the very least, once I had consumed alcohol I would no longer be tempted to drive, so that would help make me behave.

I feel so alone in this. I can’t really talk to anyone about it. I think the closest I get is talking about it with Hanuman, who usually says something cryptic and meaningful like “I have to walk my own path”.

One can isn’t enough. Time for two.

I lay awake in bed for a long time.

---

Wednesday was the gauntlet.

I try to search a lot of things before I post them to confirm their origins, etc. I was amused to learn that “gong show” is a Canadian expression. For my international readers, it means something is poorly organized and anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.

I had to do my Working At Heights before shutdown ends. Unfortunately, my two choices were to drive back to Thunder Bay for my training, or pay out of pocket for training in Dryden and be reimbursed by the hall. Since I didn’t have the money to pay out of pocket but I knew I’d be paid at midnight, I opted to sign up for the course in Thunder Bay.

They’d posted the schedule for the shutdown. I’d mused about going on night shift, obviously there’s a shift premium and time moves even faster, but Duff was offended. And he’s right. Boiler nights might pay more per hour, but you’ll be the first crew laid off, so you lose more money long term. Might as well stay.

We went back to finish the not-hanger job in evaps in the morning. Mark continues to grate. He’s annoyed that he didn’t get boiler nights, although Duff did get him moved off our crew starting on the 25th, thank god. He’s at the top with the gin wheel, receiving the gear, and even though we can’t hear each other he keeps trying to be funny and make conversation with hand gestures. Ugh.

At 9:30 we have break, and we stopped by the Snake Pit to grab some extra gear we were short on. As we crossed the yard, Mark and Steve stopped to chat with some people. Then it all went wrong.

Not even a minute later, the building burped, a deep mechanical belch from across time and space. It went on and on, drowning out our voices, the birds all taking flights for kilometers around. A great guff of steam flowed out of the roof for five minutes straight and all we could do was watch it, enraptured.

Eventually the steam stopped and Duff suggested we keep moving.

Well, that wasn’t happening. As we got to the door, we realized the lights were off. We soon learned the entire facility had lost power and everyone had been plunged into darkness, except those who were outside. As we peered into the black hall, debating braving it out with headlamps, someone yelled “upset running conditions”. Upset running conditions means “get out – there’s gas”.

Don’t need to tell us twice.

I walked back to the lunchroom for fresh batteries for my headlamp and texted Dylan.

So, shutdown is a delicate process. The mill is a finely tuned machine… in some ways… and they try to run everything down in sequence so as not to waste material, because once it’s down they can’t fire anything back up in isolation and they have to empty the tanks and scrap everything. A certain someone in one of the control rooms, instead of flipping a switch to vent one of the boiler tanks, had instead flipped the switch that shuts off the power from turbogen to the entire mill.

It’s hard to state the depth of what a mess up that was! It set all of us back; we couldn’t scaffold for the rest of the day, which means no one who was waiting for a scaffold could get their work done. A bunch of delicate processes were interrupted and now had to be fixed before other things could proceed. There was gas and water leaks everywhere as the system vented everything trying to regain some sense of control.

By 10:40 it was clear we were just going to be “making puppies” all day, to put it more politely, so I geared down and headed out. Which as good, because I got trapped in construction for ten minutes!

I should have brought food, but the only food I have is Factor meals and I lack a microwave (actually, I forgot the union hall has a microwave). I stopped at a gas station I know sells my beloved jerky, grabbed an energy drink, and ordered some takeout to be delivered to the union hall for when I arrived. Then I could just eat in class. Mr Sub offers a keto sub. Just like the keto pizza, the first few bites are good and then you discover why we make bread out of wheat and not arrowroot.

Now, I know of Bruce by reputation. I’ve even talked to him on the phone, but I’ve never met him in person, although he knew me on sight because bloody everyone does! I stand out. He reminds me of my Uncle David, except shorter.

Everyone barely batted an eye at me for driving 4 hours to Thunder Bay for training with intent to head back that night. It’s the shutdown way.

Most of the class was Acuren guys, getting their Working At Heights in before they headed up to Dryden as well.

Bruce is a chill teacher, although he has a monotone voice and flat delivery that was not helping me stay awake. He was definitely grading more for attention and less for practical knowledge, cuz what you really need to have is critical thinking skills. Like with the 10 foot tie off rule above, you need to have your wits about you and make rational decisions, not follow a book.

For me, the most important fact to remember is that the force with which you hit the ground roughly doubles every foot you fall, maxing out at 10 feet (I think) with you hitting the ground with the force of being hit by a small car. Yes, things go south fast.

The other thing is that most falling injuries happen when you fall off a ladder. Industry standard is that a ladder is for access, it is not a working platform. I’m sure everyone reading this blog has a story about the one time they used a ladder improperly… now imagine if you broke your leg or neck falling off it!

We had to harness up to demonstrate that we know how to put on a harness, then demonstrate 100% tie off by going around tie off points on the floor as if we were at a height.

The final exam was 20 multiple choice questions that I probably could have answered in my sleep, but them’s the rules. I got 100%, naturally, and left half an hour early.

To Tim’s for some coffee, then the gas station for gas, and back on the open road!

It probably would have still been light out if it wasn’t for the clouds on the horizon. The worst thing is the oncoming trucks that can’t or won’t turn off their high beams. Blinding, and then you have those dots in your eyes and it takes forever to adjust.

I got back to Dryden about 11:15. Jeremy’s dad was still up cuz he’s on nights, so we talked a bit while I slammed back a drink and had a bite to eat cuz I can’t sleep hungry.

5 hours of sleep, let’s go! I got paid, so I immediately sent the money I owed to Paul and Andrej, and paid off my phone bill and… that was it, actually. I wasn’t really behind on any bills.

I stopped at a gas station on the way in to work and bought another energy drink.

Thursday the last group of guys showed up. It included Dennis, which is good cuz I like Dennis. He’s quiet, low drama, and patient. I pointed him out to Duff… hint hint.

We went to finish up the hanger before Steve and Randy had to split for night shift. I’m going to miss Randy. He still wasn’t a great worker, but he’d started to come by me and Duff’s table to chat and share his big game meat with us, talk local gossip.

I’ll miss Steve more! He gave all of us a big hug before he headed out.

At lunch Abraham headed out as well. Duff confessed he actually didn’t like that Abraham sat with us because he couldn’t understand his accent. He also misses Steve.

There wasn’t much to do. Work a bit, hide a bit. Hiding is an art, cuz you still have to be findable, in case there is actually work for you or an emergency or whatever, but you can’t be obvious.

Walked past Eli smoking at a smoking spot with a couple of new guys, one’s a Newf. Something about them made my skin crawl, like you could see them debating all the ways they could roofie me. But you can’t show weakness, so I didn’t let my distaste show.

“Hey girlie, which hotel are you staying at?” He drawled, but his eyes has an edge.

I didn’t even have to glance at Eli, as he was sitting behind the Newf. The blood drained from his face a bit, but he said nothing.

“Not staying at a hotel. Staying with a friend in town.” No point in not being honest when he could ask around easily and find out if I was lying.

“Oh yeah? Probably a boyfriend.” He turned to Eli with a smirk. Eli took a big draw on his cigarette to avoid saying anything.

“Psh, no! If I had a boyfriend he might spend all my f*cking money!” I said with a big laugh, before starting to walk away.

The guy broke into a guffaw of laughter. “I like this chick!” He exclaimed.

Yay.

Later I texted Eli “Who was that?”

“Stay away from him, he’s dangerous.”

Noted.

Duff split at 3:30 to go have a nap. I puttered around a bit and decided I should leave and catch up on some sleep as well.

Actually, what I did do was go to Mark’s to buy some work boots and some gloves. I didn’t quite need new work boots, but the hall emailed me a 25% off Mark’s for this week only, so why not.

I shouldn’t be buying work gloves, but it has been over a week and I am severely handicapped by not having gloves that fit. I bought the only gloves at the store that were A5, as required on site. I had slightly more options for boots; 4 ladies boots! Sometimes I’ll buy men’s boots cuz they’re all the same, just bigger sizes, but I tried the ladies boots first. I ended up liking some waterproof Helly’s that fit like a ski boot.

Some of the other guys clearly had the same idea. First paycheck, new boots! We chatted as we tore apart the work boot aisle. I also found some Converse I think I might buy before I leave town.

NoFrills then home.

At 7 we had a meeting to vote on the new collective agreement. I hopped in the shower and had some dinner.

I hopped in the car and arrived at the hotel at 10 to. As I walked in the front door, I noticed a sign to the left saying “Carpenter’s meeting, 6:00 PM”.

Wait, what? Did I miss a meeting? The text said 7! I listened at the open door for a minute; they seemed to just be chatting.

Well, your options are go home, or go in and deal with potentially being late, Lucy.

I shoved my hands in my pockets and strode confidently into the room. My momentum carried me further than my enthusiasm as I withered, realizing the Vagabond was in the room.

Why? He doesn’t like meetings or participating or being part of a team! He doesn’t believe in the brotherhood, he’s told me so! If you had asked me 10 times if I thought he’d go to the vote, I’d tell you 10 times no.

I guess it does involve his paycheck.

“Name?” The guy at the front asked.

“Lucy.”

He flipped through a thick book of names. All the potential attending members? “Last name?”

How many Lucy’s are there in the union? I know it’s a common name, but not once has someone mentioned another Lucy in these parts.

I was lost on where to sit. There were 2 tables in the front and 4 across the back. I’d prefer to sit in the front, but the only seat free at the front was next to the Vagabond…

I took it anyway. Not gonna be afraid of him.

The tables were set with white tablecloths and each seat was provided a notepad and pen. Across the top of the table was a black square cloth, artfully turned on an angle, a decanter of water and 4 glasses. He poured himself a glass and turned to me, “Want some water?”

I held his gaze for only a moment but it felt like forever. Longer than was necessary, but I couldn’t resist. Did I? “No, that’s ok. Thanks.” I added as an afterthought. He hates it when I don’t say thanks.

Something flickered across his eyes. The corners of his mouth twitched.

I folded my hands in my lap and picked at a hangnail. My hands are so dry, all my cuticles are cracked and peeling.

There was only the 8 of us until the clock hit 7. The guy hosting the meeting started reading out the contract changes to us, but he was interrupted by about half the guys at Dryden suddenly deciding to show up. Freakin’ scaffolders. It took until 7:15 to get everyone settled again.

I was ok with the changes. I kinda figured, since we’d gone on strike 3 years ago, we’d get a halfway decent deal because no one would be in the mood for another one. I have some gripes, but the question really is, do you want to go on strike or not, and I do not. After he read out the terms, some of the guys started asking dumb questions, like what IBEW got. IBEW is the union with the best collective agreement, but that’s not really comparable. Although it did make me smile to remember that Kevin is a member of IBEW. He’d probably find this measuring contest amusing.

The Vagabond was using the pen on his notepad. Is he taking notes? As we started to get up to go vote, I dared a glance sideways. Nope, he was doodling. He’s drawing again?

Well, whatever, I have places to be. I was one of the first people to vote, and then I hesitated for a moment by the door. The other guys started packing up the room as a line formed. Ok, meeting over. I’m outta here.

I drove over to Dylan’s place. Dylan works in the steam plant. For those who weren’t readers last year, we met because the mill opted to make the operators the hole watch, which was a failed experiment, but it did give me the opportunity to make some friends in the mill.

He is also, to put it scientifically, a total hunk, with soulful brown eyes and maybe 12% body fat. Like, if I were going to date someone entirely on looks alone, Dylan would be my number one choice. He’s deep into bodybuilding and we trade tips and hype each other up a lot. Just last week he sent me a website called “Get Drunk Not Fat” that compares carbs and calories in drinks.

I mean, he’s smart too. I didn’t even notice how handsome he was as a hole watch cuz he was wearing coveralls and safety glasses and all that jazz. But he could match me beat for beat on books and I was impressed. It wasn’t until he came over to hang out that the other shoe dropped.

I could never date him, but to paraphrase Taylor Swift, that doesn’t mean he isn’t good for a weekend.

I parked on the street, grabbed my towel and went around back. There was a small tent-like structure in the backyard, that must be the sauna. I stopped outside. Is there some protocol for entering? What do I do?

I texted him, “knock knock.”

He unzipped the door and came out, “Oh, good, you’re here! I was just thinking, I told that bitch to come around back, she better not be at the front door!”

I laughed at the exuberance.

“Did you want to go inside and change?”

“Umm, no that’s ok, I can strip down in the yard. I just didn’t want to, like, let out all your warm air and stick my head in like a creep!”

Awkward pause. Start taking my clothes off while he watches. I hadn’t brought a bathing suit, but I figured my underwear covers all the exciting bits and I can wrap myself in my towel.

There’s such a gulf of a difference between telling yourself to be comfortable and actually being comfortable. I wasn’t really uncomfortable with any single aspect of my body – my unshaven legs, the scars I had chosen to highlight with tattoos – but I was aware that this was sort of inviting comment. I also felt soft and squishy next to this Adonis glistening with sweat, although I was somewhat relieved that he was wearing normal board shorts. I had some concerns about his potential chose of garb.

We spent around an hour hanging out in the sauna. It felt good, and we had a lot to talk about; work, travel, working out. He kept taking hits of a cylinder of nitrous and offered some to me, but I decided allowing my self-control to slip at all would be a bad idea. He talked about a few of his mushroom trips and my mood was slipping into a place where I wanted to go on a hedonistic bender until I couldn’t remember why I was in pain. He’s handsome, safe with just an edge of danger, and then I can just hop in the car and leave town…

But this isn’t real, it’s just me trying to avoid my feelings. I think.

I managed to survive the hour, feelings unresolved. Drove home. Sat in the car for a minute, swallowing down tears.

I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration…

Kathy had gone to bed. Scott was still awake, so we talked about the mill a bit. It is nice to have someone who knows the mill but isn’t working at the same place as me, so we understand each other without hashing out the same old same old.

Then I went back to my room and had a drink.