There's a section around back that could use some attention. Marcus looked at her. That section need attention before I soaked your wall. The corner of her mouth lifted. "Honestly, no." He stood very still for a moment.
"Same time next weekend," he said, and walked back to his yard. The crack in the wall spread a little further. He did not stop it. The third Saturday was different. Not because anything dramatic happened, not because any line was crossed or any declaration was made or any single moment could be isolated and pointed to as the moment things changed.
It was different in the way that accumulation is different. The way a river doesn't flood from one raindrop, but from 10,000 of them, and then suddenly the banks are gone. They didn't paint that Saturday. The back section Olivia had mentioned turned out to need more prep work. Some old caulking that had cracked and pulled away from the window frame.
A section of trim that had started to rot at the base and needed to be cut out and replaced before any paint would hold. Marcus had brought his tools. He got to work. Olivia brought out a radio and put on something she called background music that turned out to be old school R&B from the mid-'90s, Babyface, Boyz II Men, Toni Braxton and Marcus hadn't heard any of it in years. And the sound of it did something complicated and immediate to his nervous system.
"You're a product of the '90s," he said without looking up from the trim work. "Proudly and without apology," she said. She was sitting nearby with her knees drawn up and a yellow legal pad on her lap working on something she'd described as a proposal nobody's going to read. What's the proposal for? She was quiet for a moment.
Then there's an old community center about six blocks from here. Been closed for 2 years. Budget cuts. Same thing that took my job. I've been writing a proposal to reopen it.
New programming, new funding model focused on single parents and kids who are falling through the cracks. Marcus looked up from his work. Who are you submitting it to? City council, some private foundations, a few corporate social responsibility offices. I found contact information for she said it the same way.
She said everything level direct, not asking for anything. But her pen had stopped moving and her jaw was tight in the way of someone who has already been disappointed enough times to have stopped expecting good news. It's a good idea, he said. It's a great idea, she said. And there was a flash of something fierce and unguarded in her voice.
The kids in this neighborhood, Marcus, some of them are drowning. Single parents working three jobs who don't have anywhere to bring their kids after school. Kids who are smart and curious and capable and just need somebody in their corner. She stopped, exhaled, looked back down at her pad. Sorry, I get on my soap box.