Berto's Roses
By Ben
Part XXVI
I awoke to the sound of hammering again. "Damn", I thought, "Carlos must be getting an early start today." I did my morning thing and stopped for a mug of coffee in the kitchen. Manuella actually let me pour it myself. I was really making some progress.
I walked out to the vicinity of the noise and found, not Carlos, but Berto nailing the centers for my studio. I was pleasantly surprised, to say the least. I didn't know how long he had been at it, but he had one and a half walls all framed in, including the door frame. The entire front of the studio, facing the garden was to be entirely windows, to let in as much natural light as possible. Part of the roof would be glass as well.
"Berto,...Berto,...BERTO!" I had to shout above the noise to get his attention. I felt a bit like his mother, screaming his name like that. Berto looked at me and smiled with several nails sticking out of his mouth. God, he was cute! He removed the nails to say, "Uno momento, Senor Ben." Then he finished toeing in the 2 x 4 he was working on before walking over to me.
"Si, Senor Ben?" He asked me, eyebrows lifted in a questioning expression. I asked him why he was working on the studio and he told me he wanted to get some of it finished so we would have more time to work on the sprinkler system together.
"Thank you, Berto. That was very thoughtful of you. I'll work on the studio after we get the garden taken care of. If I never have to drag that watering can around again, I'll be a happy man." He gave a little laugh and nodded his agreement. Berto put the hammer and nails away and we began laying out the PVC piping and figuring out what and how many connectors and fittings we needed.
We worked for awhile and then Manuella stumped out to the garden. She watched what we were doing for a bit, but asked no questions. When we got to a breaking point, she asked us if we wanted some breakfast. To my surprise, I was ravenous. I looked at my watch and we had been at it for nearly 3 hours. We were ready to start digging the trenches and cutting and joining the pieces of pipe.
"Yes, ma'am. I'm starving!" I told her. "C'mon, Berto, let's get something to eat."
Berto and I sat at the table and gorged ourselves. Manuella excused herself and grabbed a large tray of food. "Senor Roberto is not feeling well, today. I am taking some food to him." I was instantly on alert. I new he was one some pretty potent drugs for his treatment. I decided to check on him in a little while.
Berto went to pick up Carlos and I started cutting the pipe and gluing the connections in place. No way was I going to start digging around the roses when Berto wasn't there. If I killed a plant, he probably would not say anything, but would mourn its demise as if it was a child of his.
After he returned, we got busy digging. I have to confess he did most of it. His young back was much stronger than mine, and if anybody was going to cause damage with a shovel, it wasn't going to be me. Berto dug and I got the pipes in place. Our teamwork was great and I truly enjoyed working with him.
He worked his tight little ass off, which because of our relative positions, I was able to see quite a lot of. I was sweating like the proverbial pig, but when Berto turned toward me he had only a few beads on his forehead and a few more on his upper lip. I wanted to grab him and lick them off.
All the trenches were finally dug and the piping was put into place. The label on the pipe compound recommended two hours drying time before putting water through, so I decided to clean up and go to check on Bob. I climbed the stairs and noticed that the blinds were still drawn. His bedroom was cool and dark. I could hear him breathing softly, so I assumed he was asleep.
I crept over to the closest blind and opened it a tiny crack, so I could see better. I went to the bed and laid my hand on Bob's forehead. It was cool and somewhat clammy. No fever, at least. I didn't understand what was normal for his treatment so I didn't know if this was good or bad.
Bob stirred at my touch and turned to face me. He looked just awful; his skin was sagging and pale. I guessed part of that was his significant weight loss. He had a pained expression in his eyes. "Hey." He said. "How goes the construction?"
"It's coming along very well. Much faster that I thought it would. Are we making too much noise down there for you?" Bob shook his head. "No, it sounds like progress to me. Have them keep going. God, I feel like shit. The poison they are giving me finally hit me, I think."
"I have to say you look like shit, too. Have you called the doctor to see if this is to be expected/"
"I his anwering service this morning. He called and gave Manuella a list of things of things to get that might help me feel better. She's' going into town to get them."
For some reason I just assumed that Manuella didn't drive. I could just imagine her trying to get her round butt into the truck. She'd have an easier time in my car. I resolved to make the offer to her. "Anything I can do to help?"
"Naw, except keep her from nursing me to death. She's driving me crazy."
"I don't think I could keep her away. I'm afraid to stand in her way. She'll leave deep footprints all over me. You'll have to fend for yourself on that one."
Bob sighed deeply. "Well give her something hard to find in town that you need so I can get some rest before she gets back."
"I'll see what I can do." I laughed. Try to get some sleep and I'll be up to see you later on." I closed the blind and made sure he had some water within easy reach, then I went back downstairs. Berto and Carlos had all the framing done on the sunroom and were ready to install the insulation.
I convinced Carlos that the staple gun was faster and quieter for the insulation than nailing it. Berto and I returned to the sprinkler system. I had capped off the end of the pipes where the sprinkler heads were to be installed so we could turn on the water and check for leaks before we filled in the dirt around the pipes.
I attached the water hose from the faucet to the connection on the pipe and turned on the water. To my surprise and relief, there wasn't a single leak. What a craftsman! I turned off the water and Berto and I replaced the caps with sprinkler heads, then filled in the trenches with sand and dirt. Now for the moment of truth.
I had Berto turn on the water and the sprinklers came to life, one at a time. He was so excited that he played in the spraying water like a small child. I laughed at his antics and he grabbed me and pulled me into the spraying water with him. Unlike our moonlight swim, this water was COLD! I screeched and tried to run but he held me tight. Despite the fact that I was taller and heavier than him, Berto held me fast and I had to submit to the soaking as he cackled in my ear.
Manella waddled out to investigate all the noise. She admonished Berto for making me scream and possibly waking up Bob. Truthfully, in the shock of the cold water, I had forgotten about Bob. I apologized for my loud mouth and Berto apologized for his part as well. He had let me go when his mother started fussing at him. As far as I was concerned, he could have held me all day long, but I didn't miss my ice water shower.
I gave Manuella the keys to my car and she accepted them with a doubtful look. She told us and Carlos that she would be back shortly. She also said something in Spanish to Carlos while looking at Berto and I like we were juvenile delinquents. I didn't understand her, but I was certain she was telling him to baby-sit us and keep us out of trouble. When she was out of sight, Berto and I busted out laughing. Carlos just shook his head at us and went back to putting up the insulation.
Still dripping, I adjusted the water flow to Berto's specifications. He seemed satisfied with the results and I was happy to put the watering can into long term storage. We stood back, arms folded and looked at our creation in operation. We smugly smiled and then hugged each other's wet bodies.
I hadn't realized until Berto was holding me in the sprinklers, just how strong he really was. The only time I had been held by him was for one of his hugs, and he was always very gentle with them. I put more pressure on him and he returned my bear hug. "You do good work, partner." I told him. He just grinned at me. We turned to see a Mexican man of about thirty years of age. He was dressed in overalls and an old ball cap.
"Hola, I am Pedro. Senor Chavez sent me down from San Augustin to see about your fireplace."
His English was impeccable, with hardly a trace of an accent. His eyes conveyed intelligence and his handshake was warm and firm, his smile was genuine. I liked this man immediately. I introduced Berto to him and then we all walked over to the outside of the fireplace.
I explained to him what I had in mind, and he needed see the inside of the chimney before he could make any decisions or write up an estimate. He asked about what we were doing with the sunroom and I showed him the plans.
"Have you thought about putting adobe around the windows and the hot tub enclosure?"
I just assumed the sunroom would be painted wood. I liked this idea much better because it would look much more like an extension of the house. "I think it's a great idea." I said.
Pedro pulled out his pocket organizer and made a few calculations. "When will your windows be installed?" he asked.
I told him the middle of the following week. He consulted his calendar and nodded. "I can work here next Friday and over the weekend. That should be plenty of time." Pedro wrote up his estimate and I signed it. He took a few measurements and I gave him a copy of the plans. I then walked him out to his truck, shook his hand and he was off. "See you next Friday!"
Having finished his work on the sunroom, Carlos moved indoors to the first floor to work on the bathroom walls for the three bedrooms. Berto and I finished the framing for the studio. We attached the insulation then started on the exterior panels.
The carport was not attached to the house, so that putting abode on the walls of the studio would not be necessary, and I had ordered pre-finished panels so we didn't even have to paint. We had taken a break to eat lunch with Carlos and Manuella and decided to forego the siesta for the day. Manuella was busy fussing over Bob, so she had no objections.
The shadows were long and we were tired by the time we completed the exterior of the studio. It was time for Berto to take Carlos home, so I put away the tools and stacked up the scraps. I swept out my new studio and stood there making mental plans of just where I wanted to put everything. Even in the evening, there was plenty of light to work by. I had ample room for painting and my computer. I wanted to get a better scanner and a high quality printer that would accommodate tabloid-sized paper, but that would come in time.
When Berto came home, we sat in the kitchen with his mother and ate a late supper. Manuella was worried about Bob. He hadn't eaten very much and had vomited up much of which he had. I told her we should keep him full of fluids as much as possible. I decided to call the doctor the following day. He wasn't available tonight, as it was a Sunday.
I walked up the stairs to check on Bob before I went to bed. I was bone-weary and ready for sleep. Bob was awake, with a dim lamp lit next to his bed. "How you doing, buddy?" I asked him.
"Actually, I'm feeling a little better. Just tired of staying in bed, but too tired to get out of it."
"Why don't you try to get a good night's sleep and try getting up in the morning?" I touched my palm to his forehead to check for fever. I was reassured by the fact that he didn't feel warm. I offered to sit and talk to him, but he saw how tired I was. I did get him a book to read and tucked him in for the night."
"I hope all the hammering hasn't kept you from resting."
"Nope, it was like "white noise" actually helped me sleep."
"Okay. Carlos will be working inside tomorrow. He has already gotten two of the bathroom walls up on the first floor. I imagine he'll be finished inside tomorrow. Then he can work on expanding the carport. There is quite a bit of digging involved, and we need the set the posts with cement. I'll help him with all of that when I get back from San Diego with Jake."
"I don't want you spending the whole time working while Jake is here. Take some time to enjoy yourself...and him." Bob chuckled.
"Oh, we'll have plenty of time to enjoy ourselves. He'll be here for awhile."
"When is your son's graduation at Great Lakes?"
"In about three and a half weeks. About the time that Jake has to go back to Jacksonville."
"Works out just right then. G'night, Ben."
"Good night."
I softly walked down the stairs and noticed that Berto's light was on in his room. I stepped inside to tell him good night, but I saw that he was asleep. He had been looking at some prints of the garden. I had shown him how to use the digital camera and he had used it to take some photos. I knew he was going to miss it here.
I picked up the prints from the bed and from his hand. I noticed one of the pictures was of me, standing near the end of the garden, nearest the gulf. I was looking out at the water in the early morning light, holding a cup of coffee. I had no idea when he took it, but I was glad he did. I placed the prints on his bedside table.
I pulled the covers up and tried, in vain, to straighten his hair, damp from the shower. I leaned over and kissed his forehead, then his closed eyelids-very softly. I straightened back up, then leaned over again to kiss his full, moist lips.
"Good night, Berto." I whispered softly, and turned off his lamp.
"Good night, Senor Ben." Berto said sleepily.
My apologies for taking so long to get this chapter to you. Some days it flows better than others. I intend to add much more to this story, so if it takes awhile, please don't worry. You keep writing, too. I love hearing from you. ben_sc@hotmail.com. If you haven't read any of my other stories, check them out under the "Authors" link. Look for "Lyle Benton".