JJ

came along at the right time. We needed help with the heavy lifting — moving, relocating furniture finds off marketplace and homeowner repairs that were piling up by the day. C and I have always had a serious case of time-blindness and with our work schedules, there was no way to stay on top of everything without an extra set of hands.

At the time, and even now I’m not sure how he afforded to take the work. “You need to charge more!” I’d always say. He insisted he didn’t want to get rich, and that he just wanted to help people. I don’t know if that was pure humility.

The times when he showed up high and fucked up dark paint lines, I was pissed we had to pay him. He was always punctual but inconsistent and messy.

He had a kind smile and was unpretentious. He didn’t talk down to me like other contractors and call me “sweetie”. His body was covered in tattoos with a teardrop under one eye. He had a lip piercing that I hated. A biker beard and a puzzling choice of haircut he kept hidden under a ball cap.

His temperament never masked the impression that he was unpredictable. He was never not staring at my ass, giving a compliment about my body or asking questions while standing too close. I would move back. I would ignore it. I would pretend it wasn’t happening.

C once said, “I think you think people are flirting with you when they’re just being nice.”

“I say, “Hello,” and then someone thinks it’s an invitation to whip their dick out.” I think in my head.

JJ fit the thirsty, rugged and troubled trope, but when I dared to make eye contact, I felt drawn into a secret that was lurid and deep.

He grew up maintaining his grandmother’s rental properties and “on the streets.”

From intermittent day projects to an odd haul here and there, we became familiar with one another. Like old drinking buddies, we would just pick up where we left off.

He brought his daughter on the long work days. Sometimes muttering under his breath something inappropriate. I would respond sharply with enough humor and crudeness to be disarming.

Our girls weren’t supposed to bond over Taylor Swift and make believe. It wasn’t supposed to be excruciating explaining to a 5 year old why her new friend wasn’t going to come over for a play date for a while.

JJ’s history included going to jail for illegally dealing arms. He was young and in a gang when it happened. The toll it had taken on his life was so obvious. I wondered who I would be right now if I had come from his situation.

I stood facing someone steady and grounded, who loved his child and was moving towards the next right thing as best as he could, all while carrying a life’s worth of pain. The sort of pain that might destroy someone in a second. I could see him clinching onto it with his fists.

I haven’t met many in my life who could radiate and implode in this way.

Battling two different versions of himself, he would mention how his Grandmother was the only one who came to visit him in prison, rant about it on social media and then minutes later post about “Hot sexy mom’s with big asses,” in uncomfortable, confessional style videos. He could be crude, overly expressive and shocking.

He idolized the only women who believed in him. They bonded over fishing trips, smoking pot, and since her death he struggled to find a sense of place.

The only person steadying him now was his daughter. It spite of their bond, I wondered if that ever felt like a heavy position to be in.

The version of JJ that was a shameless flirt and repulsed me so much, never posed a threat to my relationship with C. There was no way this temper mental shit show would whisk me away. What an absurdity.

I would joke about it — “Hey babe, I saw my boyfriend today.” “I better watch out! He’s gonna steal you away with his top 40 country music and his back the blue bumper stickers!” C would poke.

I stopped hiring him because of this.

He later explained it was so when he got pulled over, the cops wouldn’t harass him. I wanted to believe him.

One time he joined our family for a meal. I remember he left looking stormy. I was confused and annoyed that we wasted quality time with someone who didn’t seem to appreciate the food or company. I genuinely thought C and JJ had enough similarities to be friends.

They both were walled off, and hiding something good in a corner, in need of confrontation and humanity. As I have learned, you can’t just waltz into your neighbors yard and start pulling out their weeds. JJ and C might have been connected, but they weren’t here to find eachother.

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