A Common Pornography: A Memoir

Rebuilding

This is how I learned what the word monotony means.

Instead of using the money from the insurance company to hire builders for the house, Dad decided to “save money” by doing it himself. What he hadn’t bargained for was that it would take him much longer to get it done that way. So for four years we lived in an apartment that was too small and too ugly. Matt or Mark or I would take turns helping Dad do different things at the old house. The first few things, like smashing down walls with sledge hammers and sorting through ashen remains, were fun. But then came the boring stuff like measuring and insulating. Our big job then, as Dad’s assistants, was to keep the tape measure in place, or hold the flashlight when the afternoon became night.

We’d have to do this for hours each day. If it seemed like we weren’t needed, we’d ask Dad: “Can I go play next door with Darren?” And he’d say: “No, I might need you to hold the flashlight.”

Each morning would become a game between my brothers and me of who could leave the apartment fastest. The last one always lost. “Say, Matt, I mean Mark, I mean Kevin, don’t go planning anything today. I’ll need your help over at the house.”

The whole rebuilding process was slower than anybody ever thought it would be. Help became the most painful word for my brothers and me to hear.