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2
BRYSON
The commute from New Jersey to Manhattan is despicable.Between the early morning ferries and living in-between roommates out of my mom’s basement, it is really getting to me.I’ve been trying to find a place in Manhattan for a couple of months with no luck.Everything is like a grand a month, and I’m not willing to spend that much on an apartment.My search keeps coming up dry.
My mother rents her house out for tourists and makes a killing.She is lucky enough to be able to stay at my aunt’s house while it’s rented, but there isn’t enough room for me.My friends are getting sick of me crashing on their couches, and the search for an apartment has come up empty.
The aroma coming from the kitchen is divine, and only cements how much I’ll miss her home-cooked meals.
“Freshly cooked bacon is how I want to start every day,” I say, kissing her on the cheek.
My mother and I are tight and I wouldn’t have it any other way.She likes to meddle in my love life, but it’s to be expected.It’s not like I’m in my late thirties or something.Why should I be in a rush to settle down and have a family?
“Any luck on apartments, son?”she asks, fixing some bacon on a plate with scrambled eggs and setting it down on the kitchen table in front of me.
I take my fork and take a bite of eggs first.“The prices for apartments over there are insane.I might be here another week.”
She hasn’t explicitly come out and told me I need to leave, but the gentle nudges are enough.
“If you find yourself a nice girl, then maybe you could buy a house.Less money wasted.”
As much as I would love to own a home, it’s out of the cards for me right now.I just don’t make enough, but when the foreman manager position comes open, I hope they recommend me.I’ve been sure to work as much as possible, and keep my head down.If I get the promotion, the bump in salary will help me afford an apartment by myself, but there’s no telling when they will open the position.
My fork clinks around the plate as I scoop up eggs and force them into my mouth.I wish I could sleep in every once in a while, but it’s about an hour commute to work, and they don’t take kindly to tardiness.
“A happy plate.Have a good day, son.”
I take my bag and put it around my shoulders.“I’ll see you later, ma.”
The trek to the boarding station for the ferry is about a mile, and there is really no point in driving and parking.The cost is an unnecessary expense, and it’s excellent exercise.Kids are playing in the street, and they always say good morning to me.A couple of them I went to school with their parents, and it surprises me that they have little ones already.
By the time I get to the loading dock, my shirt is wet from the cardio.It’s an easy way to keep in shape these days.
“One for Manhattan, please.”
The agent hands me my ticket, and I board the ferry.The view is beautiful, but after seeing it every day you lose appreciation for it.Tourists only dream of visiting the big city skyscrapers and bustling city.There are things that even patrons of the city might not be aware of, but it’s because they want to be oblivious.The rich people are only driving up the living expenses, and contractors are making a killing.Take Brooklyn, for example.My boss signed a million dollar contract for the building, and they will turn it into fifteen floors of condos, then they will probably sell for about half a million each.Sometimes, people come in and want to help better a neighborhood, but that means they usually buy out the rest of it to withhold the aesthetic.
Lawyers are approaching patrons of the neighborhood that have been there for decades, and offering to buy them out so they can bulldoze their property and make room for new properties.It is a lower income neighborhood, and most can’t afford to turn down a deal that is three times what the house is worth.I in no way blame them, but it’s just a dirty deal.So many memories in these houses, yet they are being torn down to build new condos and skyscrapers.
My eyes set on the city skyline, and see all the new developments going up, and even though I get paid pretty good, sometimes the guilt is too much.They want to continuously put up new properties, and I understand that’s how they make their money, but sometimes I wish we could just leave some neighborhoods alone.Offering two-hundred thousand dollars for a house that’s not even worth a hundred is good business, but what are they going to do with that money?
The ferry comes to my stop, and I depart, wondering what the day might bring.Will they finally announce the new position?Our current Foreman Manager has taken a new job opportunity with a different company, and he is only with us for another couple of weeks.I would think they would want to give the new manager time to get settled in before he leaves, but who knows?
It’s about a ten-minute walk to the worksite, and my shirt is soaked at this point.When I approach, there are only a handful of guys standing around and the start time is in fifteen-minutes.Where is everybody?
“Hey, Bryson, what’s the deal?Where is everyone at?”
I shrug my shoulders.It’s funny that they would think I would have a clue.I’m not in the know.
About that time, Blake steps out of his trailer, and asks us to gather around.Does this mean they have finally made a decision?I cross my fingers, and my anxiety kicks up.
“As you know, I’ve accepted a job at another company and they would like to promote from within.You have all done some amazing work for the company, but they have made their decision.Bryson, they have chosen you to be the new Foreman Manager.Come see me so we can get the paperwork submitted,” Blake says, going back inside.
I try not to jump up and down with joy in front of everyone, because there are some guys that have been here longer than me.No need to rub it in their faces.Two guys pat me on the back and congratulate me on the way to Blake’s office.
My hand reaches for the door, and it opens revealing Blake with a smile.“Come on in.We have a lot to talk about.”
I step inside and browse around.He has family pictures up on the walls and an open floor plan that is mostly used for his office.
