A handyman

A handyman

Kim was one of my big brother’s buddies. He had always been there as a regular fixture in his big brother’s room. Quietly and politely as he behaved, my parents thought it was okay that he often came to visit. I was usually busy with my own stuff and barely thought about him being there. Now we’re in our late twenties all three and here I am in the doorway with all the senses directed at Kim I can’t believe this is the boy who snuck around home like a shadow all these years. Kim has grown up to be one of the most beautiful things God has created in my opinion. One of the nicest things, too.

When I called my big brother and asked if he knew anyone who could help me renovate the house I had bought, Kim sat there in the background.
“I can fix it,” he says. I didn’t recognize the dark voice right away, I’d lived overseas and hadn’t seen him in years. They talked low and laughed.
“Kim says he can fix everything at a reasonable price,” my brother says. Wait a minute and I’ll let you talk to him.

Was it already there on the phone that I was infatuated with him? The dark, calm voice belonged to a grown man, I couldn’t connect it with the skinny kid I remembered him as. He asked me what I needed help with, I told him about old electrical facilities, a kitchen ripe for the scrap heap and the roof where the water…