The Hole in the Wall
“Sean, that is an excellent question. As you can see from my calculations—”
The loud ring of the lunch bell cut Erin off mid sentence and she sighed. The room was already bustling as the students scrambled to pack up their notebooks. There was no getting them back now.
“Don’t forget, we have a quiz on Thursday. We’ll go over this again tomorrow. Sean, if you’d like some help before then, you’re more than welcome to stay and…oh, no, heading out? Having your lunch elsewhere. That’s cool. I’ll be here!” Erin sunk down into her desk chair in resignation as the last student disappeared out the door. She stared around the now-empty classroom for a few moments as the sound of locker clangs reverberated from out in the hall. Then she reached down into the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out her lunch kit.
She was gnawing on a rather dry peanut butter sandwich and reading a trashy romance novel when there was a rapping on the door. She dropped the book to the floor and looked up eagerly, then her face fell when she saw that it wasn’t an inquisitive student.
“Ay, Erin, why don’t you come eat with us in the staff room today? Must be mad lonely sitting up in here every day.” The school’s history teacher, Patty Tolan, was leaning in the doorframe.
“No, thank you. I need to be here in case any students come by for help.” Erin held up her sandwich as if that was proof.
Patty gave her a look. “When was the last time a student came in at lunch?”
Erin’s eye twitched. “Friday,” she lied.
“Bullshit. Come on now, this is making Patty sad. Come eat with us. Come on, girl. Don’t make me drag you down there myself.”
With a long sigh, Erin packed her sandwich into her lunch kit and stood.
In the staff room, Erin greeted everyone and noted who was missing. The drama teacher, who she’d had a crush on since he’d started on that September, was nowhere to be found. He was the reason she no longer ate in the staff room. There had been one too many times where Erin needed to be reminded that she had a fiancé.
“Erin! We’ve missed you down here.” Abby Yates, the gym teacher and Erin’s closest colleague, was microwaving some sort of soup.
Erin took a seat at the table and unpacked her sandwich again. “Yes, well, my students need me. The final is fast approaching, and they—Kevin!”
The elusive drama teacher had just walked in. He waved as he beelined for the counter. “Erwin! Hi!”
“It’s Erin.”
“How’s geography?” He beamed and didn’t show any indication that he’d heard her correction.
“Geo—Kevin, I don’t teach geography.”
He picked up a mug that Erin was pretty sure Abby had just poured for herself. “Really? That’s a bummer. I thought maybe you could help me with these shapes I’ve been seeing, because—” He spat the mouthful of coffee he’d just sipped back into the mug. “Oh God, I hate coffee.”
He set the mug back down with a thud and disappeared as suddenly as he’d appeared, swiping at his tongue as he left.
“Bye!” Erin called after him.
Abby shot her a long look as she dumped the coffee into the sink and then came to sit with her soup across from Erin.
“So, what’s new with you, Erin?” Patty asked from behind her magazine.
“Well, we have a quiz on Thursday, and I’m pretty sure none of the students are ready.”
“Dear God. What’s new with you, Erin? You, the person. I don’t care about your class. No offence.”
Erin’s face coloured. “Oh. Um.” She looked to Abby for guidance, but her friend was quietly cursing her soup for not being heated evenly.
“How’s the wedding planning going?” Patty prompted.
Erin made a face. “We still haven’t set a date.”
“Oh?” Patty must’ve been able to tell that Erin didn’t want to talk about it, because she moved on. “What else is going on with you, then?”
Erin thought for a moment, chewing her sandwich thoughtfully. There was peanut butter stuck to the roof of her mouth. “Oh, we’ve got a busted wall. I need to hire someone to fix it. I don’t know if I should turn to the Yellow Pages or the Internet first. Any thoughts?”
Patty blinked. “Man, y’all have boring-ass lives. Forget I asked.”
Erin returned to scraping the peanut butter off the roof of her mouth with her tongue.
Abby looked up. “You need a handyman? I know someone. They’ll help you out, and for cheap, too.”
“Really? That would be great! That would save me the headache of searching for someone. Do you have his phone number?”
“Not on me. Why don’t I pass along your info tonight?”
“Sounds great, Abs.” Erin folded up the clingwrap from her sandwich. “I’d better head back upstairs now, just in case a student is waiting for me. I’ll see you ladies later!”
As she was leaving, she could almost swore she heard Patty mutter, “What a sad life that woman leads.”
***
Erin was watching a movie and trying to distract herself from how empty the house felt when the doorbell rang. That was weird. Who would be ringing her doorbell at 8:00 at night? For a second, she let herself hope that it was Phil, but that wouldn’t make sense. He had a key. She paused the movie.
She lived in a good neighbourhood, so she wasn’t particularly worried, but she still opened the door with caution.
There, on the front steps, was a woman with wild blonde hair, filthy overalls, yellow-lensed glasses, and a toolbox at her feet.
“Room service,” she called cheerfully.
Erin took an involuntary step backwards. “I’m sorry, hi, who are you?”
The woman extended a hand. “Holtzmann. Handyhuman extraordinaire. I hear you’ve got a hole in your wall?”
Erin returned the shake with a tilt of her head. “But I didn’t…who gave you this address?”
“Abby Yates did?” The woman’s cocky grin faded. “Is this not the right place? Are you not Erin Gilbert?”
Erin’s jaw fell open. “I’m going to kill you, Abby,” she said under her breath. “She was supposed to give you my phone number, not my home address. Do you always show up at places unannounced?”
Holtzmann leveled her gaze over the rims of her yellow glasses. “I’m sensing a bit of hostility. Abby told me that you needed a wall fixed and that I should go over right away. I figured you knew. My apologies. Would you like me to leave?”
That stare was so intense. Was she even blinking? “No, I…if you’re already here, I guess you may as well come in and take a look.”
With a satisfied smirk, the woman hoisted up her tool box and stepped past Erin into the house. “You know, if you wanted me to have your number so badly, maybe you should’ve given it to me yourself.”
Erin stared after her in amazement. She shut the door and crossed her arms. “I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”
Holtzmann winked. “So, why don’t you show me this hole of yours?”
Erin blushed but lead her into the living room. She gestured at the hole, about two inches in diameter.
“Oh, that’ll be easy to patch up for ya. I was picturing a cavern.” Holtzmann grinned and set her toolbox down. “Are you watching Ghostbusters?”
Erin glanced at the paused movie. “It was on TV.”
Holtzmann hummed a few bars of the theme song. “Put it on! I love that movie. Bill Murray? Dan Aykroyd? Sigourney Weaver? Genius. Hey!” She pointed excitedly at the wall. “Wall busters!”
Erin forced a sarcastic smile. “Funny.” She picked up the remote and hit play.
“Is that coconut I smell?” Holtzmann sniffed the air exaggeratedly as she dug through her toolbox.
Erin glanced back at the empty pina colada glass on the end table. “No.” She didn’t need this woman judging her any more than she already was.
“Hm. Maybe my trusty snoot has failed me. I’ve been meaning to pick up a replacement.”
Erin was silent.
Holtzmann turned and appraised her. “That was a joke. Yikes, remind me never to invite you to one of my comedy shows.”
“You do comedy?” Erin asked warily.
“At this little place…you’ve probably never heard of it. It’s a real hole in the wall.” Holtzmann smirked and raised one eyebrow.
Erin laughed, a real, proper laugh. “Actually, or did you just make that up for that joke?”
“I’ll let you figure that out. A woman’s gotta have some mystery to her, right?” Holtzmann grinned easily. “Speaking of holes in walls, how did this one happen?” She jabbed her thumb at the wall.
Erin bit her lip. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” The confusion on her face morphed into comprehension. “Oooh. I getcha. You don’t wanna tell me. Sex accident?”
Erin nearly choked. “What? No!”
“Suuure.” Holtzmann shot finger guns. “Your secret’s safe with me, chickadee.”
She began working on the wall and Erin retreated to the couch. She wasn’t watching the movie, not really, but she didn’t want to hover.
“So. Isn’t this the kind of thing that your husband should be fixing?” the woman said casually.
Erin stiffened. “Fiancé,” she correctly automatically. She muted the movie and turned, crossing her arms. “How did you—”
“I don’t mean to alarm you, but you’ve got a rock the size of Pluto taking up prime real estate on your hand.” Holtzmann didn’t even turn from her spot to look at Erin.
“Well,” Erin said indignantly, “I’ll have you know that Phil is not a very ‘hands on’ type of guy. Not every man is. How dare you assume that a man is the only one who can fix this.”
At that, Holtzmann finally looked at her, then very purposefully down at herself, then back at Erin. “I assumed…that a man is the only one who can fix this? That’s an airtight argument, there.”
Erin blushed and rose from the couch. “That’s not what I meant to say. I meant, how dare you assume that I need a man. Who’s to say that I couldn’t fix something like this? What, you just assumed that I’m some sort of housewife who can’t tell the difference between a hammer and a screwdriver?”
The woman slowly set down her tools and turned to fully face Erin. “Of course you could fix it, but the fact remains that you hired me to do it. I didn’t mean to imply anything. You’re clearly a working woman, and a hard-working one that that. Probably something in academia, judging by the amount of tweed on your person. I’d guess university professor. You’re very dedicated to your job and you work long hours. You’re not getting enough sleep, judging by the dark marks under your eyes, and you’re stressed, which is evident from the empty pina colada glass—yeah, can’t fool me. You don’t have the time nor the energy to fix something like this, but you could if you did. You have the determination to figure it out.”
Erin was stunned. “If you could gather all that, why would you make that comment about my husband fixing stuff?”
“Well, even though working men also don’t have the time or energy—or even the expertise most of the time—they still try to fix stuff like this to prove something. Insecure masculinity at its finest and most productive.”
Erin just blinked.
“So, did I paint a correct picture?”
Erin tugged at the hem of her blazer. “I teach high school math. I’m not a university professor.”
“I should’ve guessed. That’s so much better! They’ll let any old riffraff be a professor, but it takes a special kind of person to choose the path of an educator.” Holtzmann smiled.
“How did you do that?”
“What, figure you out?” She shrugged. “I’m good at reading people.”
“You really are,” Erin murmured. “I guess I should let you get to work and stop freaking out at you about nothing. I’m sorry.”
“S’okay. Bad day?”
Erin glanced at the hole in the wall. “Something like that.”
“Well, I don’t mind talking. But if you just want to get back to your movie, then I’ll be as silent as a ghost.” She picked up her tools as if to prove her point.
The corner of Erin’s mouth twitched up. “I don’t think ghosts are very silent.”
“Excuse me for trying to fit in a relevant simile.” Holtzmann grinned back.
Erin laughed. “So how do you know Abby?”
“Oh, you know.” She waved her hand vaguely. “You? All she said was that you were an old friend.”
“Since high school,” Erin confirmed. “The same high school we both teach at now, actually. Are you from around here?”
Holtzmann shook her head. “Transplant. I was passing through whilst on a road trip many moons ago, and I kinda just…never left.”
Erin cocked her head. “Huh. Weird.”
“I try.”
They fell silent except for the sound of Holtzmann working on the wall.
“Can I get you a glass of water or anything?” Erin offered.
“I’ll take one of those pina coladas, if you’ve got any left.” Holtzmann winked.
Erin flushed. “I drank it all. I’m sorry.”
“I’m kidding. Water would be great.”
Erin excused herself to the kitchen and filled a glass with the fridge’s water dispenser. She set it down on the counter and grabbed the landline to check if there were any messages. Maybe he had called and she had just…missed it.
The display said zero missed calls. With a sigh, she dialed his number again and listened to it go straight to voicemail.
“Hey, honey,” she said, keeping her voice down so Holtzmann wouldn’t overhear her, “it’s me again. Still wondering where you are or when you’re coming home. Please call me so I know that you’re safe. Love you, bye.” She hung up, grabbed the glass of water, and went back to the living room.
“Quite the house you’ve got here,” Holtzmann said as she took the glass. She took a long swig and then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Is it your fiancé’s? I mean no offence by assuming…I only ask because I know that teachers are paid exponentially lower salaries than they deserve, and well…this place is huge.”
Erin perched on the armrest of the couch. “That’s an awfully personal question, isn’t it?”
Holtzmann shrugged. “Just making conversation.”
Erin glanced at the still-muted movie, which looked like it was almost over. “It’s mine. I grew up here. My parents couldn’t decide who should get the house in the divorce, so they gifted it to me to save the fight.”
Holtzmann paused with her hand on the wall. “Oh. You’re right, that was a more personal question than I thought it was.”
Erin bit her lip. “It’s fine.”
They fell silent again. Erin turned the volume on the movie back up. She watched the last ten minutes play out while Holtzmann worked quietly.
It was as the credits were rolling that the phone rang. Erin all but dove for the phone on the end table and swiped the empty pina colada glass in her haste, sending it crashing to the hardwood floor. It shattered on impact and she cursed under her breath. She could deal with that later.
She lifted the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
A pause, a click, and then a robotic voice started in her ear. She only listened to two seconds before hanging up and throwing the phone onto the couch beside her with more force than was probably necessary. She slumped back into the cushions and covered her face with her hands.
She heard a soft creak as footsteps crossed the room, and moved her fingers enough to peek through and see Holtzmann standing awkwardly on the other side of the coffee table.
“Is everything okay?”
Erin swallowed hard and pushed herself up off the couch to go grab the broom and dustpan from the closet. She didn’t speak until she had returned and started sweeping up the broken glass.
“The hole isn’t from a sex accident.” She could feel Holtzmann’s eyes on her. “Phil and I got into a fight. He got angry and threw a stone egg at the wall. That was last night and I haven’t heard from him since.”
“A stone…egg?”
Erin sighed impatiently. “Yes. That’s the part of that confession that you’re hung up on?”
“No, it’s just…I’ve never heard of a stone egg before.”
“It was a decoration.”
“Alrighty then. Erin, right?”
Erin nodded.
Holtzmann came up and rested a hand on her arm. “Erin, did he try to throw the stone egg at you?”
“No, no,” Erin said quickly. “He would never try to hurt me. He just has a bit of a temper, I guess. I’ve never seen him act like that, though.”
“Okay…” Holtzmann said, sounding a little unsure. “And you haven’t heard from him?”
Erin shook her head. “I know he’s just taking some time to cool off, which is probably good, but I can’t help but worry a little. You know?”
“I know. What would take your mind off it? Why don’t you put on another movie? Would that help?”
Erin considered that, then nodded.
“Great. Why don’t you let me clean the rest of this broken glass up, and you find a movie to watch?” Holtzmann reached her hand out for the broom.
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
“It’s okay, really.” Holtzmann smiled gently.
Five minutes later, the glass was cleaned up and Holtzmann was back working on the wall while Erin flicked through the guide in search of something to watch. She came across an X-Files rerun that was just starting and happily changed to that channel.
Holtzmann looked over eagerly. “The X-Files? Nice! Oh man, you have the greatest taste in entertainment.”
Erin laughed quietly. “Thank you, and I proudly take that title.”
Watching the episode, she was almost able to forget about her MIA fiancé, especially with Holtzmann’s running commentary in the background. The episode was about halfway over when she came to stand by the couch.
“I’m done.”
“Really? Oh, that didn’t take long at all. Thank you so much.”
“My pleasure.”
Erin went to stand from the couch. “How much do I owe you, then? I’m sure you want to get on your way and—”
“Shh, shh, Scully is just about to drop some major sass.” Holtzmann held up a finger.
Erin slowly sunk back down to the couch. Sure enough, a few moments later the sass in question was unleashed. “Do you have every episode memorized?” Erin wondered aloud.
“Nearly. You mind if I watch for a bit longer? This is one of my favourites.”
Erin hesitated for only a moment, then gestured her assent. Holtzmann took a careful perch on the armrest of the couch.
The next thing Erin new, she was being startled awake by a loud noise. Disoriented, she swung her gaze around. When had she fallen asleep? A glance at the screen showed that it had been a gunshot that woke her.
Holtzmann was on the couch beside her, watching the show intently. Erin wasn’t exactly sure when she had drifted down from the armrest. She had memories of the episode ending, and then another episode beginning. It was a marathon.
She rearranged herself so she was sitting more upright and rubbed her eyes. Holtzmann glanced at her. “Did you fall asleep?”
“I must’ve. What time is it?”
Holtzmann checked her oversized watch and seemed to do a double take. “Shit. Is it really 11:00?”
“It’s that late?” Erin jumped up from the couch. “How did that happen? I have to work tomorrow!”
“I’m so sorry.” Holtzmann stood as well and ran her hand through her hair. “I had no idea. I’ll go now.”
She rushed over to her tool box and packed it up. Erin went to retrieve her chequebook and met Holtzmann in the foyer.
“How much do I owe you?”
Holtzmann considered her for a moment. “No charge. It’s on the house.”
“Oh, I can’t do that. Please, let me pay you for your work.”
“Hey, you let me stick around and watch The X-Files. That’s payment enough, in my opinion.” She smiled a lopsided grin.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Do you have a card?” Erin asked hurriedly. “So I can reach you the next time I need a job done? It seems only fair.”
Holtzmann’s grin spread. “I’ll do you one better. Can I borrow that pen?”
Erin handed her the pen. Holtzmann uncapped it with her teeth and reached out to grab Erin’s hand. Before Erin could protest, the pen was scratching along the back of her hand. Erin tried really hard to ignore the way her skin tingled after Holtzmann had released her, and examined the writing.
Holtz the Handymann
Below that, a phone number.
Holtzmann handed her back the pen. “Until next time, Erin. Good luck with the fiancé.” Then she saluted a two-fingered goodbye and left just as abruptly as she’d arrived.
Later that night in bed, Erin was kept awake by thoughts not of Phil, but a certain blonde handyman—until eventually she fell asleep alone for the second night in a row.
***
“Abby! You sent a complete stranger to my house without my permission!”
“It’s not like she’s an axe murderer. Chill out. Did she get the job done or not?”
“Yes, but—”
“And did she do a good job or not?”
“She did, but—”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that she was there until 11:00 at night because you sent her to my house without warning. I would’ve never had her come that late.”
Abby frowned. “She was there until 11:00?”
Erin coughed. “She may have stayed a bit later after the wall was fixed.”
Abby raised an eyebrow. “Doing what?”
“Watching The X-Files.”
“You watched The X-Files with her? With a complete stranger? In your house? Until 11:00 at night?”
“Why are you saying that like it’s concerning? You just said she was completely safe!”
“I did not say completely safe. I said she wasn’t an axe murderer.”
“Abby.”
“Relax. Are you going to see her again?”
“What do you mean ‘am I going to see her again’? It wasn’t a date, for crying out loud, it was a professional fixing a problem in my house.”
“And watching The X-Files.”
“Abby, what are you implying? I’m engaged.”
“Uh huh,” Abby said, sounding completely unimpressed by the word.
“What’s that tone of voice? You’re the one who loves reminding me that I’m engaged. Remember when you kept getting mad at me for hitting on Kevin?”
“That’s because he’s gay, not because I like or respect Phil. You know I’ve never been a fan of him.”
“What? You don’t like Phil? Since when? And—wait, did you just say that Kevin is gay?”
Abby gave her a look. “Erin, he’s a drama teacher.”
Erin crossed her arms. “Lots of straight men like theatre.”
“He has a boyfriend. Who he talks about all the time.”
“Who, Todd? No, no, Todd’s just his roommate!”
Abby tilted her head to stare pointedly over her glasses.
“Oh, God.” Erin pinched the bridge of her nose. “Oh, God, Kevin’s gay. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“You’re engaged, it shouldn’t matter.”
“You just said that you don’t like Phil, though! Why don’t you like Phil?”
Abby winced. “He’s not good for you, Er. He doesn’t respect you, he talks down to you, and you’re not yourself around him.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that before I got engaged to him?”
“I wanted to!” Abby threw her hands up. “I think you could do better, but I’ll stop trying. It’s your life and your decision.”
“Good.” Erin paused, and something occurred to her. “Wait, stop trying? Trying what?”
Abby at least had the grace to look sheepish.
“Abby, have you been trying to set me up with people?”
“No! No. Just…introducing you to people who you might get along with, that’s all.”
Something else struck Erin. “Hold on. You asked if I was going to see Holtzmann again. Did you—Abby!”
“She’s really great, okay? I think you guys would get along really well. Did you hit it off or no?”
“She’s…nice…but Abby, I’m engaged. We shouldn’t even be having this conversation! I’m going to marry Phil. No more trying to set me up with people. Okay?”
“I won’t. I promise. I just want you to be happy, Erin.”
“I am happy,” Erin said, but even as she said it she felt a twinge go through her. “I’m happy,” she repeated, quieter.