Owen wandered into the kitchen, a half-eaten burger in his hand. “Dad? What happened? Are you okay?”
I couldn’t speak. I just handed him the phone.
He read the message, his brow furrowing. “Who is your guy?”
“Usually,” I gasped, wiping a tear from my eye, “it’s me.”
But tonight, the rules of the universe had irrevocably shifted. And I was about to let them freeze.
Chapter 2: The Infrastructure of Enabling
To understand why my mother demanded I “call my guy” regarding a broken furnace, you have to understand the peculiar ecosystem of my profession.
I specialize in high-altitude structural maintenance. Essentially, if something breaks high enough above the concrete that a normal human looks up, feels dizzy, and says, “They need to hire a very specific, crazy person to fix that,” I am that specific person.
I do not repair residential basement furnaces. I am not an HVAC technician.
