The Partnership

Mike always looked the same, the same claw hammer he'd had since before Stephen and he had met in high school hanging from his belt, the same bump in his lip from the ever-present pinch of tobacco. Mike had been the better craftsman all along. His father, Rich, had trained him well. We he retired, Rich had left the construction business to the two of them in the form of a partnership. But, Mike had never gotten over the fact that his dad had sent Stephen to college on the company, paying him full salary while working only half-time and going to school. Sure, Stephen had always been book-smart. But, he wasn't even part of the family! In fact, Mike had given Stephen his first job on his own crew, right after high school, and he'd failed to do his share of the labor, always calculating, drawing, laying out the plans, never doing the “real” work.

On the day of Rich's funeral, Mike had handed Stephen the partnership dissolution forms. With the normal reek of alcohol on his breath, he'd said “Here you go, partner. I'm cashing out, and never want to see your face again.” Mike saw a fork in the road that day, and he took it.

But here he was, walking into Stephen's new office on Main Street, with a different form in his hand. Not nearly so cocky now, he handed Stephen the job application and said “Please, Stephen, I need the work.” Stephen wondered if it was his imagination, or if he really smelled whiskey on Mike's breath at 7:00 in the morning.