The Contractor
Short Story
Christopher Girard
Somehow I heard the knocking, the knocking on my front door,
before I was ever really consciously aware of it. Looking back there was no
realistic way I could have physically heard the knocking on my door.
Not over my loud stereo, not as it blared another seductive
materialistic melody of the life of money and fast women. The music, my music, was
just too loud. It seemed I had been playing my music louder and louder
lately, almost a subconscious effort to drown out the knocking.
I somehow expected the visitor that showed up that fateful day.
Not only did I know he was coming, in all reality I think I had even in
a way, invited him.
As I reluctantly made my way to the front door, I could feel the
familiar mental tug of war begin. In my mind, no deeper, I guess you
could say my soul, I knew what waited at the front door. My mind, my
ego, resisted and tried to talk me out of going... Hey you don't have to
go. Relax man, He will go away. Stay here it will be okay I
continued walking as I observed this mental tug of war, I was drawn to the
door. As I approached the front door, the front door to my home, fear
gripped me. I somehow knew that once I opened the door that things,
things like my life, would never be the same. Inwardly I knew that
change was on the way. Inwardly I also knew that I had asked, even prayed
for this change. Maybe I hadn't actually mouthed the words but I sure
as heck had asked. I had asked alright, on many a late night full of
discontent and despair, I had surely signed the papers and mailed the
letter.
The rusty front door reluctantly swung open. It squeaked and
screeched all the way for it hadn't really been open in years if ever. The
first thing I became aware of was His warm, gentle smile accented
nicely with a knowing sparkle in his eyes.. Can I help you I mumbled? .
He let out a hearty genuine laugh at that one, Can you help me? (He
really seemed to get a kick out of that).
In between his laughing He managed to say Sir I am the
Contractor, I have done an exhausted survey of your house and I am afraid I have
some good news and some bad news .
I wondered silently, if it was to late to shut the door and pretend
I had never opened it. But I knew, knew deep down inside where all the
serious, big decisions are made, that, that would never happen. For I
knew, really knew, that once you open this door, you can't pretend you
never opened it. You can't shut it and walk away as if it never
existed. Once you have seen behind the magic curtain, so to speak, the show,
this show, is never the same.
He continued. I have found that your foundation, the foundation
of your home is cracked, is faulty. Your home, the home you are
presently living in, has been built on a broken and faulty foundation.
I asked Him what that meant. He scratched his head and said softly,
yet gently... We have to put in a new foundation, we must start over from
the ground up, the entire structure, the entire house has to go.
My mind screamed, my identity protested, not my house. Didn't He
understand that I had spent my whole life building this house, this
structure. Didn't He understand that I had spent years, time and energy
building my whole structure. It was all I had, it was where I lived. It was
my life, it was my precious home. He must surely be mistaken. There
must be another way.
Couldn't we just get rid of a couple rooms and somehow straighten the
house out, I asked. No, he said, I'm sorry, in order to rebuild your
house, we need to lay a new foundation, we need to begin anew. But I
am comfortable in my house, I resisted, I know where everything is. I
am used to the way the furniture is, I know my way around all the rooms. He nodded that he understood but he reiterated that in order to
truly build a new house, a straight, sturdy house, the foundation couldn't
just be patched, that it needed to be completely torn up and replaced
with a new solid foundation. It needed to be completely redone.
He explained that although it would require a lot of work and be
uncomfortable and awkward at first, that I would learn to see that this
new foundation would in time support a better, larger home. A
beautiful home with new rooms, a home that was much bigger than my old crooked
one. That in time I would learn my way around my new home and would
eventually even put nice new furniture into it That in time, I would be
more comfortable and content in my new home.
I was hesitant, I was resistant, my mind, my body rebelled, but I
knew the old Contractor was right. I knew that I could not live
comfortably in my old home anymore. I knew the time had come to rebuild. I
signed the contract to rebuild, and with my name still wet on the
dotted line I agreed to have the work done. I agreed to trust the
Contractor and replace my old foundation with a new one.
I stood at the end of my driveway, the road to my new home to be,
for a long time, and as I watched the first wrecking ball smash into my
old house, I let out a sigh of relief. For deep down, yeah deep down,
where all the serious decisions are made, I knew that this was not
only the right thing to do, it was the only thing to do. I felt
comfortable, whole, complete. I was acutely aware of the hard work that lay
ahead, of the changes that would be required, but I also knew in my soul
that it would be well worth it. As I began to walk up the driveway to
my soon to be new home, I heard a loud crash as the first wrecking ball
struck my old house, a small smile broke across my face. A small
smile broke across my soul.
The work had begun.
The work on my new foundation.
The work on my new and beautiful home.
The Contractor© COPYRIGHT 2005 Christopher Girard.
Reproduction prohibited without permission from the author.
08/22/05
