Bonus story : More than just colleagues : Part 7 : A Sunday at Patrick’s

The next day, Aldric arrived at Patrick’s house at nine fifty-eight. The street was quiet, far more peaceful than the ones he usually traveled through during his workdays.

Aldric checked the time on his phone before slipping it back into his pocket. Two minutes early seemed reasonable. He waited outside the door for a few moments, then rang the bell at exactly ten o’clock.

Patrick opened the door. The team leader was wearing an old pair of jeans worn at the knees, a gray T-shirt, and shoes covered in traces of dirt. A small streak of white paint was still visible on his forearm.

“You’re on time even on Sundays… Come in.”

Aldric stepped inside and took off his shoes. Patrick watched him carefully line them up against the wall.

“You know you’re going back outside in two minutes, right?”

“I can put them back on.”

Patrick smiled and motioned for him to follow. They crossed the living room and kitchen before stepping into the garden through a glass door. The house seemed even quieter than it had the day before. Patrick picked up a pair of gloves from a chair and put them on.

“What do we need to do?”

“First, one thing. Today, I’m not your boss.”

“Very well.”

“Doesn’t that bother you a little?”

“A little.”

Patrick burst out laughing.

“At least you’re honest.”

“At the depot, you establish priorities, assign tasks, and oversee the organization of the work. Here, no structure has been established yet.”

“That’s the point. Today, we’re taking it easy.”

“Without a precise division of responsibilities?”

“There are only two of us.”

“That does not prevent us from organizing our respective responsibilities.”

Patrick shook his head with a smile.

A patio already occupied part of the garden. Farther back were a few plants, a barbecue covered with a protective cover, and several wooden boards stacked against the fence. Patrick pointed toward the back of the garden.

“There’s the problem.”

Part of the fence was leaning outward. Several boards had begun to rot near the ground, and two of the posts also appeared less stable than the others.

“It is damaged.”

“I started replacing it a few weeks ago, but I haven’t had time to finish.”

“You intend to replace the entire fence?”

“Just this section. About ten meters.”

Aldric examined the boards.

“The central post will also need to be replaced.”

“I see you catch on quickly.”

“The structure depends on its support.”

Aldric looked at the tools laid out near the patio. A drill, several boxes of screws, a level, a hammer, an electric saw, and various other tools.

“You planned the work before I arrived. Therefore, you remain responsible for organizing it.”

Patrick sighed.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll be the fence commander.”

“That title is acceptable.”

They started by removing the boards. Patrick unscrewed the first fastenings while Aldric held each section in place to keep it from falling suddenly. The work progressed quickly. Some boards came loose easily, while others resisted enough that Patrick had to use a crowbar.

At the depot, Patrick excelled at organization. He knew how to assess a situation quickly, assign roles, and reassure customers. Here, however, the way he worked was different. He was precise, measuring each piece before cutting it and systematically checking the alignment before securing anything in place.

After they had removed several boards, Aldric handed him a new piece of wood.

“Do you do this often?”

“DIY?”

“Yes.”

Patrick positioned the board against the post.

“For a long time. I like building and repairing things. At work, we mostly move other people’s belongings. We arrive somewhere, empty one apartment, fill another, and leave. It’s satisfying because you can see the result, but none of it belongs to us. At home, when I build a shelf or repair something, it stays.”

“So you appreciate the permanence of the result.”

“You make it sound very serious when you put it like that. But yes. I suppose that’s it.”

In his kingdom, Aldric had known many craftsmen. Some blacksmiths remembered a particular blade for the rest of their lives. Carpenters could point to a bridge they had built twenty years earlier with the same pride they had felt on the day it was completed.

“The craftsmen in my world often felt the same way.”

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“Did you know them well?”

“Some of them. An army depends on craftsmen. Blacksmiths, carpenters, saddlers, masons. They were as essential as the soldiers.”

“That must have been a lot of people.”

“Yes.”

Patrick returned to his work.

“What about you? Did you know how to do this?”

Aldric looked at the drill.

“Not with these tools.”

“I mean building things.”

“The basics. During campaigns, we sometimes had to repair a wagon, reinforce a shelter, or build defenses. I also knew how to repair certain parts of my equipment.”

Patrick smiled.

“So you were already into DIY.”

“I would not have used that term.”

They removed the central post. It had sunk deeper into the ground than expected and resisted for some time before finally giving way. Aldric eventually pulled it free.

“Sometimes I wonder why I bother buying tools.”

“The post was already weakened. The base had begun to rot.”

“Aldric. Just take the compliment.”

Aldric inclined his head.

“Thank you.”

Patrick smiled before picking up the shovel.

Once they had replaced the post and secured the first few boards, Patrick turned on a speaker sitting on the patio. At times, they worked for several minutes without exchanging anything more than brief instructions.

“Higher.”

Aldric raised the board.

“Here?”

“Another two centimeters.”

He adjusted it.

“Perfect.”

Patrick drove in the screws before stepping back.

“We’re making good progress.”

“We have completed approximately forty percent of the planned section.”

“Of course you calculated it…”

By noon, they had replaced almost half the fence. Patrick suggested taking a break and went into the kitchen to get two bottles of water and some leftovers from the previous evening. They sat on the patio steps with improvised sandwiches and ate.

“I’ve been meaning to take care of this for a while.”

“Why did you wait?”

“No time. Or sometimes I just didn’t feel like it. Some days you come home from work and tell yourself you’ll do it tomorrow. Then tomorrow becomes next week. And next week becomes two months later.”

“Lucas calls that procrastination.”

Patrick chuckled.

“Did Emma teach him that word?”

“Yes.”

“I’m surprised he remembered it.”

They finished their meal. Patrick kept his bottle in his hands and looked out at the garden.

“The house is a little too big for me. When I bought it, there were two of us.”

“Your wife?”

“My ex-wife. We divorced three years ago. Things hadn’t really been working for a while by then. We were both working a lot, seeing each other less, talking less. Nothing dramatic. No huge argument. We just drifted apart. She left, and I kept the house.”

“That must have been difficult.”

“At first, yes. The worst part wasn’t even necessarily the divorce. It was the silence afterward. When you’ve lived with someone for years, you develop habits without even realizing it. You come home and someone’s there. You make two coffees. You ask what you’re having for dinner. Then one day, you come home and there’s no one anymore. Work helped me a lot. It forced me to get out of the house. To see people. To keep me from sitting at home thinking all day.”

Patrick gave a small smile.

“And with Lucas around, it’s hard to think in silence for very long.”

“That is true.”

“Karim was already there too. Not on the same team at first, but we ran into each other a lot.”

Patrick set his bottle down beside him.

“Work becomes a routine pretty quickly. You get up, you drive, you carry furniture, you go home. Doesn’t sound amazing when you put it like that, but sometimes a routine is exactly what you need.”

“Military campaigns worked in much the same way. When a difficult period lasted for a long time, routines could become reassuring. Breaking camp at the same hour. Checking equipment. Distributing rations. Marching. Setting up the tents. Even when the situation was dangerous, maintaining certain routines gave the men a sense of stability.”

“Exactly. It’s a bit like that. With a much lower risk of dying.”

“That is one of the main advantages.”

“I’m not unhappy, you know.”

“I did not assume you were.”

“Good. I like my life. I have my job, my routines, people around me. But there are still days when this house feels a little too quiet.”

“It was not quiet yesterday. Lucas compensated for several days of silence.”

Patrick burst out laughing.

“Easily.”

They remained seated for a few more minutes before returning to work. Patrick explained how his father had taught him to do DIY projects. Aldric told him that some craftsmen in his kingdom refused to let even their own apprentices use their tools until several years into their training. Patrick said he understood their reaction after lending Lucas a drill.

“Did he break it?”

“No. He gave it back three months later. He’d forgotten it was at his place…”

“For three months? You did not ask him to return it?”

“Several times.”

“I understand better why you might be reluctant to entrust him with certain equipment.”

They finished the last few meters of fence that afternoon. Patrick checked the alignment one final time and tightened two screws. The old damaged section had completely disappeared.

Aldric examined the result.

“The structure is solid.”

Patrick put his hands on his hips.

“You could say it looks nice.”

“It also looks nice.”

“Thank you.”

They then began putting the tools away. Aldric swept up the wood shavings while Patrick put the boxes of screws back in their place. When he returned, Aldric had already sorted the leftover pieces of wood by size.

“Were you planning to throw these away?”

“Some of them can be reused. For small repairs. Shims. Temporary supports.”

“You have a point.”

“Wasting available resources is rarely advisable.”

“That’s why I asked you to come.”

They finished cleaning up before heading back inside the house. Patrick put some water on to boil and made two coffees. Aldric sat down at the kitchen table while Patrick set the cups in front of them.

“You still take yours without sugar?”

“Yes.”

“I’m starting to remember.”

Aldric picked up his cup.

“Thank you.”

Patrick took a sip of coffee.

“Thanks for coming.”

Aldric looked up.

“You asked me for help. It was therefore logical that I come.”

“Plenty of people would’ve found an excuse.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s Sunday.”

“Does that change the nature of the request?”

“Not really.”

“Then I do not understand.”

“That’s exactly why I’m thanking you.”

“It felt good to finally make some progress on it. On my own, I probably would’ve kept putting it off.”

“The work was faster with two people.”

“It wasn’t just that. It was more enjoyable.”

Patrick mentioned a few projects he wanted to tackle around the house, including repairing a shelf and repainting a room. Aldric asked whether he had already established an order of priority. Patrick replied that he refused to turn his Sundays into a military schedule. Around five o’clock, Aldric checked the time.

“I should head home.”

“Of course.”

Aldric finished his coffee before standing. Patrick walked him to the entrance. As Aldric put his shoes back on, he said,

“The result should last for several years.”

“I hope so.”

“If the wood is properly maintained, probably longer.”

“You really can’t leave a fence alone, can you?”

“I do not understand the question.”

Patrick burst out laughing.

Aldric picked up his phone and jacket before opening the door.

“Have a good evening.”

“See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

He walked down the few steps in front of the house and headed toward the street. His phone vibrated, and Aldric took it out. A WhatsApp notification had appeared in the Extreme Movers group. Lucas had sent a photograph. Aldric opened the conversation.

The picture showed an apartment in a spectacular state of disorder. Several pieces of clothing were piled on a chair, boxes covered part of the floor, shoes were scattered near the entrance, and the sofa had disappeared beneath a mountain of clothes, bags, and cushions. Several glasses, papers, and what appeared to be an empty pizza box were sitting on the coffee table.

Lucas: Next time, we’re meeting at my place 😂

Patrick: We’ll have to find your living room first.

Karim: I thought the photo was taken at a landfill.

Emma reacted with several laughing emojis.

Aldric studied the picture more closely. Unlike the others, he did not see what was amusing about it. The state of the apartment seemed genuinely concerning. He zoomed in on the photograph.

Aldric: I can bring storage bags.

Lucas: ALDRIC, I WAS JOKING

Patrick: Too late. You invited him.

Karim: I’m free Saturday.

Emma: Me too 😂

Lucas: Wait… are you serious?

Patrick: Yes.

Aldric: Yes.