Quitting

“Here let me.” George took over the pliers and bare wires. Lila watched for a moment then let him have at it. She stepped away to the water cooler.

“What the hell are you doing?” Harvey asked.

“Hey, Harve.” Lila raised a conical cup to him. “Water?”

“No!” Harvey waved away the offer, bumping the cup and spilling few drops on Lila. “Those are live wires. I told YOU to do that.”

“George wanted to.” Lila tried to shake the water from her hands without spilling more.

“George will electrocute himself.”

“Probably just throw a breaker.” Lila carefully switched the flimsy cup from one hand to the other, still trying to wipe off the water.

Harvey gave her an exasperated look. “Get over there and do what I told you to do.” He grabbed the cup from her. It spilled.

Lila huffed. “I ain’t working with live wires when I’m wet.”

Harvey crumpled the cup in frustration.

“OWWW!” George screamed.

The lights went out.

George’s throaty voice cut through the darkness. “Stupid broad didn’t cut the power first.”

Harvey cursed.

Lila had already made it to the steel exit door. She propped it open and stepped out into the sunlight to dry off and wait for Harvey’s sweet words in her defense.

“Next time just let her do it. That’s why I put her on the job in the first place. SHE KNOWS HOW!” Harvey cursed some more. “Now get out of here before she does and I end up having to do all this work by myself.”

Lila moved aside as George stormed out the door. He didn’t look her way.

“Why do you do that?” Harvey asked when Lila came back inside.

“Do what?”

“Let imbeciles like George push you out of the way,” Harvey said, “when you know they don’t know what they’re doing.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Just tell them you got it,” Harvey said.

“Imbeciles like George don’t usually listen.” Lila let her eyes adjust to the dim light, then set about finding the pliers. Now that George had done her the favor of killing the power, she could work hastily.

Harvey came up behind her. “Gotta say, that’s hot.”

“Actually,” Lila referred to the power, “it’s not.”

Harvey put his hands around her waist. “No one does a splice as cleanly as you.”

Lila wiggled out of his arms. “Get out of my light.”

She finished her work and left it to Harvey to restore the power. She went back outside where it was warmer; her clothes were still a little damp.

She sat down on the sidewalk and leaned against a sun-warmed brick wall. A woman in heals paused in front of Lila but the woman’s attention was on a little boy who lagged behind her. Lila noted the stylish shoes. The woman held out her hand to the boy. Her nails were professionally done, long, shiny; at the same time, they were both strong and beautiful. The heals didn’t slow the woman. She scooped up her son and hurried away.

There was a time, before Harvey, when Lila disdained such women for all the debilitating and expensive stuff they wore. Now she was older and less sassy. Less sassy maybe more because of Harvey than her age. She could admit there was a part of her that wanted to look and feel like a girl.

When she met Harvey, he was so much worse than this kid George. She’d had to fight Harvey all the time, had to prove herself to him. Repeatedly. Now he knew he could rely on her and she knew she could rely on him. The fight had gone out of her. He fought her fights for her. She could, and did, just up and leave a worksite if she felt underappreciated. She had left Harvey short-handed enough times that he now sent others away in order to keep her there. The ones who stuck around knew how it worked and respected her skills. Or, at least, revered Harvey’s temper.

There was little difference, she thought, in fighting compared to quitting. The feeling is the same. Exactly the same. Once you’ve been judged, whether you fight or you shut down, you still experience the condescension of ignorant assumption, the weak preying on those they perceive to be weaker, with cowardly acts of self-effigy.

She cursed. Sometimes she hated men.

Lila picked herself up from the sidewalk and hiked two blocks and across an enormous parking lot to the mall. She dug some cash out of her pockets and got a French manicure. Then she picked out some clunky heals, the kind that look great with shabby jeans.

When she clip-clopped across the floor of the worksite, jaws dropped. That was satisfying.

Harvey took it in and handed her a pair of pliers.