Work Boots

I change my work boots once a year. I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m telling you this, but hear me out.

I’m a building foreman. Well, forewoman, if you want to be technical about it. I oversee construction sites with hundreds of people under me on a daily basis, and we complete several projects annually. What does this have to do with my boots? Hang on, we’re getting there.

I wasn’t always la jeffa. I had to work my way up from the bottom, proving myself daily to these men despite the fact that I had an engineering degree and most of them barely had a GED. I had to put up with catcalling and ogling and outright bullying from some of them. Nothing ever was done about it; it was just a side effect of being a woman in a male dominated profession.

But there was this one guy. Big black dude named Charles. He came onto a job I was working and changed everything for me.

Overhearing another round of catcalling during my lunch, he came striding over and plunked himself down beside me, glaring around at the others as if daring them to say something else.

They quickly found someplace else to be.

After eating next to each other in silence, he rose and went back to work without a word. I stared after him, grateful for his intervention yet puzzled by his silence.

The next day he found me again, eating without a word and going back to his business.

Finally, on the third day, I got up the courage to ask, “Why are you doing this? They’re not bothering me, I’m used to it. I can handle it.”

He swallowed his last bite of sandwhich and turned to look at me. “But you shouldn’t have to.” Then he went back to work.

I had a newfound appreciation for this silent giant. I’d spent my whole life having to be tough and handle myself, and he came and effortlessly took that burden from me.

The next day I brought him one of my homemade pan con lechones. He then gave me some peanut butter fudge that he’d made from scratch.

Our friendship grew over the next few months as we moved from site to site. The others would look at us strangely; the giant and the Latina. I learned about his two girls and the wife he’d lost to breast cancer, and the future he hoped to provide for his family. I told him about losing my parents and my sister on the crossing over from Cuba when I was a girl, having to make it on my own.

One day I came to our normal lunch spot to find him missing. He never missed a day; he was saving money for his oldest daughter to go to college, and he needed all of the money that he could get. Puzzled, I asked the foreman if he’d called in for the day.

I was shocked to find that he’d been diagnosed with an aggressive form of liver cancer, discovered the night before when he’d collapsed outside of his daughter’s school. He was in intensive care, not expected to live past a week.

The rest of that day was the hardest one of my life. My quiet protector, watching over me and his children, was now lying helplessly in a hospital bed with death looming over him.

The foreman noticed my distraction and called me back into his office, handing me a piece of paper with an address. “You’re only gonna end up in the hospital with him if you keep trying to work through that.” He said kindly. “I got the info for where Charles is. Go check on him.”

I thanked him and hurried to the address.

I managed to get as far as the front desk before I was stopped; I wasn’t family, I wouldn’t be allowed in.

But then a quiet voice behind me said, “It’s alright. She’s family.”

I turned to see a beautiful black teenager, smiling sadly at me. “Daddy’s told us all about you, Maria. Come on back.”

As I followed her, she added, “I’m Lisa, his daughter. He told me you’d come looking for him.”

I was speechless as we rode the elevator up to the ICU ward.

There we met a younger girl who was Charles’s spitting image. She sat with an older relative who could only be his sister by the similiarities in their faces; she nodded courteously at me.

“Shayla,” Lisa said, “This is Maria.”

Shayla leapt from her chair and gave me the biggest hug, pressing her face into my chest as she wrapped her little arms around me. “I knew you’d come.”

After a moment, Lisa gently pulled her sister away. “Come on, now, let’s giver her a chance to see Daddy.”

I smiled at the little girl, then followed Lisa down the hall to his room. Only one person at a time was allowed in, so she would wait outside.

“They’ve got him sedated right now.” Lisa explained, “But they said he can still hear you. Take as long as you need.”

I nodded, took a deep breath, then pushed the heavy door open.

I felt like my heart was about to break. Strong, protective Charles was lost under the tubes, wires, and cords all around him. I could see that he was in pain, even in his sleep. Tears sprang to my eyes as I took his hand.

This wasn’t fair. Hadn’t he lost enough? Now his daughters were about to lose their father, and I was going to lose my friend.

“I never told you this.” I said aloud, squeezing his hand, “but you were the first thing to feel right for me in a long time. I had a friend when I got here - Juan - and he was like a brother to me. Protected me like you did, showed me how to be strong. He took me in when I got here, helped me get into college and provided a home for me. He died in a construction accident two days after I graduated. I’ve been on my own since then, but you…you changed that. You showed me that it was safe to lean on someone else for once. I look forward to seeing you every day because you make me feel safe. You inspire me to be my best by the way that you work so hard for your girls. And I….I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.” I couldn’t talk anymore, tears streaming down my face.

After squeezing his hand one more time, I left the room and hugged Lisa tightly.

“What did your dad tell you about me?”

Lisa chuckled. “He’d met a Latina lady who knew who she was and worked like she knew what she wanted. He said you were the best part of going to work every day.” She picked up a bag that was sitting beside her chair. “He was late picking me up from school because he’d stopped by the store to get you these. If he hadn’t, he might have crashed and we wouldn’t have found him in time to do anything for him.”

Tears rushed back to my eyes as I pulled a brand new pair of work boots from the bag. “He’d been fussing at me for wearing my old boots. Said they weren’t safe.”

I’ll admit it took me awhile to get myself back together. When I finally did, I asked who would be taking care of the sisters. Their aunt, the older lady, would be. She normally helped out with them anyway.

I went home that night and just stared at the boots. I couldn’t believe that he would spend that money on me, instead of putting it towards his daughters.

Then again, yes I could. He was exactly the sort of man who would do something nice for his friends, even if it meant sacrificing something of his own. I wish I had told him that my feelings for him had started to become more than just friendly. I wondered if he felt the same way, considering that he’d told his daughters about me. Now I’d never know.

I made a decision right there. Charles may not get to see it, but I was going to chase after my dreams, to move up from where I was and really make something for myself. I was going to prove him right about what he saw in me.

Four years later, after much work and determination, I became one of the most sought after and respected foremen around. The boots that Charles gave me are in a special case that stays in my office, no matter where the worksite is. Both of his girls are doing well; Lisa went off to college and Shayla just started high school.

Charles buys me a new pair of boots every year on our wedding anniversary.