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“Hello?” I ask, recognizing the office number immediately.
“Ryan! I’ve been trying to call you! Where are you?” Mary asks, her voice hoarse and filled with emotion.
“I’m hanging tresses at the Hazelton place. I told you I’d be here all day. What’s up?” I’m instantly filled with concern, and maybe a bit of dread.
“It’s Paula,” she cries into the phone. “She’s gone.”
My heart drops into my steel-toed boots and a ball of emotion lodges firmly in my throat. My soul aches for my friend and the wife he has lost. At such a young age, to be stripped of life by a horrible disease that shows no mercy, no prejudices, no discrimination.
Realizing I’m still on the roof, I say, “I’m on my way.” I slip my phone back into the holster and climb down.
Back on ground, my guys are gathered around, snacking or drinking to rehydrate. When they see the stricken look on my face, they know. Each one stands up and faces me. Fighting the emotions threatening to choke me, I deliver the bad news. “She’s gone.” They know who I’m referring to. They’ve been fighting this battle alongside Orlando and his family since the beginning as well.
The mood is somber, all eyes dropping to the dirt as they process what I’ve said. Orlando has been a part of our team since day one for Elson Construction, but he and his family have been a part of this community their entire lives. Everyone knew and loved Paula and respects Orlando as a co-worker and friend.
“I’m running back to the office to help Mary. Why don’t you guys pack everything up for the day and take off.”
“Should we go over there, boss?” Tyson asks.
I contemplate what Orlando would want. Does he want a house full of sweaty construction workers? Would he lean upon us as friends, drawing strength from the group, or would he prefer to not be seen in this moment of weakness and loss?
“Why don’t I stop by and see how he’s doing? If he’s up for a visit, I’ll let you know.”
“Sounds good. Maybe we can all meet up at The Beaver later. Have a beer and toast in her honor,” Danny suggests.
A beer sounds great right about now. Hell, maybe even a shot of something strong, something that sets my stomach ablaze. Even though it’s barely three o’clock, I could definitely use a stiff drink.
Waving goodbye to my guys, I slide into the truck and head towards the office. If I’m going to head over to Orlando’s place, I’m sure Mary will want to go with me. Plus, she always has a way of saying the right thing, so it’ll help to have her as a buffer between my fumbling mouth and the bereaved.
I hate this, but if I’m going to do it, might as well get it over with.
