Turn 151 of 233

Take a moment to enjoy the quiet. Smile broadly, exposing my yellow teeth. Then work the entire day with the crew with Kimo, Samuel and Janet watching.

The sun is two fingers above the tree line and the site is still hers and the hers is the thing Lena stands in for thirty seconds before the truck pulls in. She leans against the trailer and the leaning is the leaning of a woman who has earned the lean and the coffee is in her hand and the coffee is black and the black is the way she drinks it now. She smiles. The smile is broad and the broadness is the broadness of a woman who does not smile carefully anymore and the smiling is not for anyone. The yellow teeth show — all of them, the canines and the molars and the tongue piercing glinting behind the lower teeth — and the yellow is the yellow of a woman who has not brushed her teeth in weeks and has not cared and the not caring is the freedom and the freedom is the thing the wish gave her and the thing she kept.

The truck pulls in at seven and the truck is the truck and Janet is in the passenger seat and Samuel is driving and the driving is the driving of a man who drives the way he does everything — precisely, without excess, the truck centered in the lane. They get out and Janet is wearing a sundress and sandals and her hair is done and the done is the done of a woman who is visiting her daughter. Samuel is in khakis and a polo shirt and the polo shirt is pressed and the pressing is the pressing of a man who irons his own shirts and has always ironed his own shirts. They walk onto the site and the walking is the walking of two people entering a world they do not fully understand and the not understanding is not the problem. The not understanding is the door.

Lena is 600 pounds and naked and tattooed from ankle to neck in tribal black and her hair is rainbow and her feet are callused and cracked and her teeth are yellow and her smile is the widest thing on the site. Janet sees her and the seeing is the seeing of a mother who has been here before and is here again and the again is the again of a woman who keeps coming back. Samuel sees her and the seeing is the seeing of a father who does not flinch and has not flinched since the first visit and the not flinching is not acceptance. The not flinching is the not flinching of a man who is trying.

"Coffee," Lena says. She holds out a paper cup to Janet and Janet takes it and the taking is the taking of a mother who drinks coffee black and the black is the black they share.

"The frame is done," Lena says to Samuel. "Three days. Two and change. Come look."

Samuel walks the frame. He does not walk it the way Walt walks it — with a level and a tape and the tools of a man who checks. Samuel walks it with his hands. He touches the studs. He runs his fingers along the headers. He puts his palm flat against the sheer panels and the flatness is the flatness of a man who built things in Korea with his father and knows what plumb feels like through his skin. He doesn't say anything. The not saying is the not saying of a man who is feeling the work and the feeling is the language he speaks and the language is the language Lena knows.

"Corners are good," Samuel says. Two words. The words are the most he has said about any frame and the most is the most and Lena hears it and the hearing is the hearing of a daughter hearing her father say the thing he means.

The crew arrives at six-thirty and the arriving is the arriving of men who see the parents and nod and the nodding is the nodding of men who have seen the parents before. Walt shakes Samuel's hand and the shake is firm and the firmness is the firmness of two men who respect each other's work and the respect is the respect of men who build. Janet sits in a folding chair Tuki brought from his truck and the chair is in the shade of the trailer and the shade is good and the sitting is the sitting of a grandmother who is about to watch her grandson crawl. Kimo is on the blanket beside her and the boy is on his stomach and the humming is going.

At seven-twelve Kimo starts crawling. The lurching is the lurching Lena knows — the arms reaching, the legs pushing, the body moving across the blanket one inch at a time and the inches are the inches of a boy who is two months old and doing something two-month-olds do not do. Janet leans forward in the chair and the leaning is the leaning of a grandmother seeing something and the seeing is the seeing that changes the schedule.

"Samuel," Janet says. The voice is quiet and the quiet is the quiet of a woman who wants her husband to see and the wanting is not a request. It is a summons.

Samuel comes to the blanket and crouches and the crouching is the crouching of a man in pressed khakis crouching on a construction site beside his grandson and the crouching is the thing he would not have done a year ago. He watches. The boy lurches three inches. Four. Five. The humming is steady and the steady is the steady of a boy who is doing the thing and the thing is his. Samuel's face does not change. The face is the face of a man who is processing and the processing is behind the eyes and the eyes are wet and the wetness is not something Samuel will acknowledge and the not acknowledging is the not acknowledging of a man who does not cry on construction sites. But the eyes are wet and the wet is there and Lena sees it and the seeing is the seeing of a daughter who knows her father is seeing his grandson crawl at two months and the knowing is enough.

The day is the day. Lena and Marco frame the interior walls and the framing is fast and the O-line leverage holds and the belly is the counterweight and the nail gun barks. Samuel watches from the folding chair Janet saved him and the watching is the watching of a man who built things in Korea and is watching his daughter build things in Florida and the building is the building he knows. He doesn't comment. He sits with his coffee — his second cup, black, the way Lena drinks it — and his eyes track the work and the tracking is the tracking of a man who understands the work and the understanding is the bridge. Janet watches Kimo crawl and the watching is the watching of a grandmother who has made peace with the schedule her grandson is building and the peace is the peace she chose.

Lena works through lunch and the working through lunch is the thing the crew expects and the expecting is the respect. She eats three sandwiches standing at the saw station between cuts and the eating is fast and the fastness is the fastness of a woman who fuels while she works. She burps and the burp is deep and long and the long is the long of a body that does not apologize and the crew doesn't react and the not reacting is the not reacting of men who have been around Lena for a year. Janet hears the burp and the hearing is the hearing of a mother who raised a daughter who burped quietly and is watching a daughter who does not and the watching is the watching of a woman who is making room. Samuel doesn't hear the burp. Samuel is watching the frame.