The Sliding Door
It was a little weird, having it all out there in the open, but good, Holtzmann thought. Instead of bending her morals and allowing things to progress any further, she’d put her foot down and set boundaries. That was good, right?
Although, hearing out loud that Erin was into women did make it a little harder. It shouldn’t have mattered—she was still engaged, although with each visit to Erin’s house, Holtz became a little less convinced of the fiancé’s existence. He was like some mythical being…like non-drama queer movies. Out there somewhere, but never visible.
At least she felt better about going to help Erin out, now. She knew where Erin’s head was at, and she didn’t have to worry anymore.
She got a call one morning from Erin.
“Holtz the Handymann, you break it, I shake it.”
“What’s with you and the slogans that don’t make sense?”
“Keep up, won’t you? I thought you were an intellectual. What’s up?”
“Our sliding door came off its track last night, and I tried everything but I can’t get it back in. Could you come by tonight and take a look?”
“Sure thing. 5:00?”
“See you then.”
***
Holtz lifted her fist and rapped on the door in the tune of ABBA’s ‘Dancing Queen.’ She was cut off mid-chorus by the door swinging open, and she staggered back when she saw what was on the other side.
It was a man, and it had to be the fiancé.
Generic-looking white guy, nothing special. Brown hair. A maroon sweater rested over a white button-up and boring tie.
He looked her up and down with obvious judgement. “Excuse me, can I help you?”
“Yeeeah.” Holtz tried to crane around him, but Erin was nowhere to be found.
He tapped his foot, literally tapped his foot, impatiently on the ground. “We don’t believe in charity. If you’ll step away from the door right now, I won’t call the police. Now go back to wherever you came from.”
“Wait, buddy, do you think I’m homeless? Jesus. I’m the handyman who’s been fixing all the shit around your house. Your fiancée called me here for a job tonight, and I intend to do it.” She frowned. “Or something that doesn’t make me sound like a hitman.”
“What do you mean, handyman? Erin!”
His eyes didn’t leave her as footsteps echoed down the stairs behind him. A few moments later, Erin appeared at his side, looking flushed and out-of-breath. “Holtzmann!”
“You know this…woman?” He sneered at Holtz as he said it.
“She’s the handyman I told you about.”
“Darling,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension, “I would remember if you’d told me about this.”
“Well,” Erin replied, sounding increasingly irritated, “I did tell you. Multiple times. She’s the one who fixed the hole and the garage door opener, and I called her here tonight to fix the sliding door.”
“I don’t need some woman—” Again, laced with arrogance— “to fix something like that. I told you I’d take care of it.”
“When, Phil? When? You haven’t been home before 9:00 in weeks! Was I just supposed to wait around with a broken door until you decided to show up? I’m here alone all the time. I don’t feel safe with a door that doesn’t close!”
Holtz held her hands up. “Listen, you clearly have some shit to talk about, so I’m gonna go.”
“Holtzmann, stop. I called you here to fix that door, and you’re going to.”
“I really think I should—”
“Come in,” Erin said curtly.
Holtz sighed. The fiancé seemed like he was prepared to block the door, but Erin pulled him out of the way so Holtz could get past, then took Holtz by the arm and led her to the living room. She stopped in front of the sliding door and gestured to it.
“Here we go. I’ll let you take a look.”
Then she disappeared, and Holtz was left alone with the busted door. She heard the front door slam, then the beginnings of whisper-yelling that she couldn’t quite make out. She tried to busy herself with her work, examining the track where the door had derailed, but she couldn’t help but listen in.
What would happen with her and Erin if her engagement fell through? She hadn’t considered that. As bad as the relationship seemed from the outside, Erin appeared to be pretty committed to it. Seeing them in action, though—well, maybe she’d have a shot after all.
She shook the thought from her brain and got back to work.
She heard loud footsteps stomp up the stairs, and then a second, lighter set follow. When they reached upstairs, the argument turned into full-blown yelling, which was muffled enough that Holtz couldn’t make out exact words. Shit.
She managed to pry the door from its position and get in set back into place in no time at all, perhaps fueled by her need to escape the awkward environment, and soon she was left standing in front of the closed and locked sliding door with no idea how to proceed.
The screaming overhead didn’t sound like it would let up any time soon with the way they were going at it. The best thing to do was probably make a hasty yet stealth exit, and follow up for payment later. Or, screw payment.
She gathered her stuff and crept towards the door, careful to tread lightly so her heavy boots didn’t tip them off. She pulled open the front door, paused, then slipped out. She shut it gently behind her, then made her way down to the truck.
Once inside, she cursed the older model, which definitely wasn’t designed for a sneaky start-up. The engine roared to life, and she was just putting it into drive when the front door of the big house opened and Erin ran out. Holtz rolled down the window as Erin approached, her face blotchy from shouting.
“Did you finish already?” she asked, panting slightly.
Holtz nodded.
“Were you going to leave without a cheque? Shoot, I don’t have my chequebook on me.”
Holtz glanced past her at the house. “Uh, I can get it another time. Listen, Erin, are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m sorry you had to witness that.”
“Are you going to be okay going back in there, or do you need a place to crash tonight?”
“What are you talking about? It’s my house. If anything, he should be the one to leave.”
“But will he?”
Erin sighed. “He’ll cool down. I know you think he’s going to hurt me, but he’s not. This is just how couples are sometimes.”
“Riiight,” Holtz said. “Well, you have my number in case anything changes. If you feel unsafe, please call me.”
“Thanks for the concern, Holtz. But really, I’ll be fine.”
“Have a good night, Erin.”
“You too,” Erin replied, but she sounded distracted. Before Holtz could say another word, she had turned and was walking back towards the house with the gait of a prisoner before execution. Holtzmann watched her go, feeling a little helpless, before she moved her foot to the gas pedal and drove away.