Turn 167 of 233

Ask Sina what she's thinking as she watches Lena work. She thinks of her brother. We would have been good together, according to her. Then call Jensen and tell him about Kimo. He said its fine as long as the lad is safe

Lena sets the nail gun down and the setting down is the thing she does when the wall is done and the done is plumb and level and fast. She turns to Sina and Sina is still leaning on the lumber stack and the leaning is the thing Sina has been doing for twenty minutes and the twenty minutes is the longest Sina has watched Lena work. The sweat has dried on Sina's skin and the dried is the salt and the salt is the thing that catches the light on a body that ran thirty-four miles this morning. Lena walks to her and the walking is the walking of 630 pounds on bare feet and the bare feet are callused and dirty and the dirty is the thing that is the site.

"What are you thinking?" Lena asks. The asking is the asking of a woman who can see that Sina is holding something and the holding is the thing that is not on her face but in her body — the crossed arms, the stillness, the way her eyes track Lena's hands instead of her eyes.

Sina doesn't answer right away. The not answering is the thing Sina does when the thing inside her is still finding its shape and the finding is the thing that takes a moment. She uncrosses her arms and the uncrossing is the thing that says the holding is loosening and the loosening is the thing that comes before words. She looks at the wall Lena just built and the looking is the looking at the studs and the top plate and the plates that are plumb and level and fast.

"My brother," Sina says. The saying is two words and the two words are the thing that opens a door Lena has not seen before. Sina has talked about Aleki. Sina has talked about her children. Sina has not talked about a brother and the not talked is the thing that means the door has been closed and the closed is the thing that is opening now.

"He was a builder. Framing. Mostly residential. He worked with his hands the way you work with your hands — fast, precise, like the body knew what the brain didn't need to say. He'd walk a site the way you walk this site. Bare feet. No shirt. The crew loved him."

Sina pauses and the pause is the thing that is not a breath but a weight and the weight is the thing she is setting down and the setting down is slow.

"He died. Four years ago. Construction accident. Fall from a second-story frame. The harness failed."

Lena is still and the still is the still of a woman who is hearing about a man who worked the way she works and died doing the thing she does every day. The hearing is the thing that lands in the place where the nail gun lives and the nail gun is the thing she just set down. The site is quiet for a moment and the quiet is the quiet that is not silence but the thing that fills the space when something heavy is placed on the ground.

"He would have liked you," Sina says. The saying is the saying of a woman who is not crying and the not crying is the thing that says the tears are not the way she carries this.

"He would have liked you a lot. You would have been good together. The way you move on a site — the hip drop, the leverage, the way you use the mass. He did the same thing. Different body, same physics. He would have seen you do that and said — that's it. That's how it's done."

Sina looks at Lena and the looking is the looking of a woman who is seeing her brother in the way Lena moves and the seeing is the thing that is not replacement. The seeing is recognition. The recognition is the thing that says the body remembers what the mind misses and the body is the thing that carries the brother forward in the way Lena drops her hips and drives the studs.

"I think that's why I kept running with you," Sina says. "Not just because you're fast. Because you move like him. And I didn't want to stop watching that."

Lena doesn't say anything for a moment. The not saying is the not saying of a woman who is holding something that was given to her and the holding is the thing she does carefully. She puts her hand on Sina's shoulder and the hand is the hand that drives nails and the hand is gentle and the gentle is the thing that is not weakness.

"He sounds like someone I would have liked too," Lena says.

Sina nods and the nod is the nod of a woman who has said the thing she came to say and the said is the thing that is done. She pushes off the lumber stack and the pushing is the thing that says the carrying is lighter now and the lighter is not gone but shared.

---

Lena picks up her phone at lunch and the phone is the phone she uses for site calls and the site calls are the calls to Jensen. Jensen is the man who promoted her and the promoted is the thing that is on her paystub and the paystub is the thing that is higher than her old office salary. She dials and the dialing is the thing she does because the thing she has been not doing is telling Jensen about Kimo and the not telling is the thing that has been growing and the growing is the thing that needs to stop.

The phone rings twice and the twice is the twice of a man who is at his desk.

"Lena."

"Jensen. I need to tell you something."

The tone is the tone he knows — direct, no architecture — and the knowing is the thing that makes him wait.

"I had a baby. Four months ago. His name is Kimo. He's been coming to the site with me. He's here now. He's on the pad."

The silence is Jensen's silence and the silence is shorter than Lena expects and the shorter is the thing that says Jensen is processing and the processing is fast because Jensen processes fast.

"Four months ago," Jensen says. The repetition is the repetition of a man who is placing the information and the placing is the thing he does with numbers and schedules and budgets.

"Four months ago. Eighteen pounds at birth. Forty-four now. He's walking. He's talking. He's on the site every day in a harness or on the pad. The crew knows. Walt knows. Marco knows. Everyone knows."

"Is the lad safe?"

The question is the question Lena expected and the expected is the thing that says Jensen is the man she thought he was. Not anger. Not liability. The question is about the boy.

"He's safe. He's in a harness when I'm on the tools. On the pad when I'm on the ground. The crew watches him. He crawls and walks on concrete that's swept. He's never near the saw or the lift."

"Then it's fine," Jensen says. The saying is the saying of a man who has made a decision and the decision is fast because the decision is based on one thing and the one thing is the lad's safety.

"As long as the lad is safe, it's fine."

"He's safe."

"Good. How's the wall going?"

"Plumb. Level. Done by noon."

"That's what I expect from you, Lena."

"That's what I do."

She hangs up and the hanging up is the thing that is done and the done is the thing that was overdue and the overdue is over. Kimo is on the pad humming and the humming is the drone and the drone is the thing that is the soundtrack and the soundtrack is the thing that continues.