Publication date: October 12th, 2021
Synopsis:
When everything in your life unravels and the future you imagined disintegrates into dust--how do you decide which way is forward?
Griffin Nichols has lost everyone close to him. Unhealthy choices rooted in unmet expectations have him feeling like he's failing at being a man. Everything he thought he knew about being a good son, brother, and friend has him feeling as substantive as an echo.
He's lost.
Then Maxwell Wallace walks into his life and teaches him that sometimes in the weakness of the echo is where he can claim his strength.
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Excerpt
"You got your tools?" Cal asks and skirts around the side of the house.
"I couldn't really find any at home." I hadn't looked. Well, I had, but what we had consisted of a small kit under the sink to do minor stuff around the house. The hammer hadn't been much bigger than my hand.
He looks over his shoulder, still walking. "No tools? Nothing?" He faces forward again. "What's your dad use around your place?"
I know his question is innocent. Cal couldn't know about my dad, but the question still makes my chest burn. Anger isn't the current fire however, because I can give Cal some leeway, but his honest assumption drudges up those feelings I like to keep locked up. "He's not around."
Cal stops and turns toward me, hand on his hip, the other holding his coffee. His brows are drawn together. I don't think it's what I've told him that's stopped him, but perhaps the way I've said it. I feel his eyes assess me. He takes a sip of his coffee then resumes walking. "I think I can scrounge up some stuff for you to use."
"Thanks." Having to offer this gratitude bugs me because it feels like I owe Cal something. Then again, I know of do; he's taken a chance on me.
We turn another corner to the back of the house where an old porch looks worse than the front. It's a mouth, missing teeth with the remaining ones discolored, broken or loose.
"You're going to take this down today. Demolition." He turns and looks at me with a grin. "I love demolition."
"Okay." By the looks of it, I could probably just give it a push and watch it collapse.
I took woods at school with Mr. Henry. I learned some shit about building stuff. Measuring, sawing, fitting stuff together, gluing, nailing. I mean, I didn't try too hard. I wouldn't have wanted to look like a try-hard or anything, but I kind of liked that class. I liked the way you could take a slab of wood and make something with it. We didn't demolish things though, but taking shit apart seems like something I might have a talent for.
"I've already dealt with the electrical, so that won't be an issue," he says like I know what he's talking about. He points to the skeleton of a light fixture. I nod like I have a clue. "Start on the top and work your way down so you don't hurt yourself."
I look up at the dilapidated roof.
"I don't want you up there--"
I breathe a sigh of relief.
"--so, we'll set up a ladder and a scaffold before I leave." He turns away and heads toward his rust dappled truck. "Taking it down will be the easiest part. When you're done, if there's any salvageable wood, pile that up in its own pile. Be sure to use gloves--I've probably got an extra pair around here. I'm not sure you'll find much usable wood on that porch. Separate the rest of what you can into trash or salvage. You know the difference?"
I don't and force myself to ask the question. "How do you know if the wood is salvageable?"
He glances at the porch. "Most of that's going to be in the recycling pile." With the hand holding his coffee mug, he points at the porch. "See the dark spots? The way it looks like it's splintering?" After I nod, he says, "That's all rot. When wood is soft like that, weak, spongy, and broken, you can't use it for building anymore. If you find any pieces that look--" he turns back to the truck and presses a finger to a smooth board--"closer to this. See how the grain of this is compact?" He knocks on it with a knuckle. "No give. We're using this for your scaffold. It's strong and sturdy. That's what we want."
I nod again because it's all I know to do. I feel like an idiot and hate that I do. I wonder if Tanner would know all this stuff. Probably. I want to ask more questions but don't. Afraid to look stupid.
As a kid, my world revolved around two things: stories and make believe. I have built a real life around those two things as well: I am a teacher of stories and a writer of make believe.
While I went to high school in a small town in Oregon and college in a smaller town in Oregon - both gifted me with treasures to fill my creative reservoir and most importantly, my husband. We got married, I followed him from Oregon to Hawaii (it was that or forgo the marriage).
We have two children, and several furry kids.
I read and write everyday.
