Summer months crept by elusively and began disappearing faster than I knew. Monica's parents, after much whimpering and many teary-filled displays of sadness from Monica, decided to let me stay with them until Coleridge College opened for the semester. Days full of job hunting and college preparing didn’t leave time for much more than watching movies or sleeping.

It was a month into the summer before I landed a job as a custodial worker for a large local church Monica’s father had connections with. It was actually a church Monica and I had attended several times, a loud and theatrical multi-facility campus that some referred to as a mega-church. I never quite understood having a multi-million dollar building that could fit thousands of people in it when the money could go to those who needed it and the thousand people could find a park to worship in.

The people were nice, though. The head pastor always came into work at 8:00 a.m., dressed in a tailored blazer and dark denim blue jeans, and stopped to talk with me as I mopped or swept the luxurious lobby. I worked with a team of six people to clean each of the six floors and mow and weed-eat twice a week. Each man was much older and spent most of there time talking about their old ladies and what they’d have for dinner after finishing their second job.

My first day of work was on one of the last days of June and it was one of the hottest of the year. I met each of the six men and each, in their own way, commented on my boyish form.

“Joe, you haven’t worked a day in your life, have you boy?” Skid, the custodial chief asked me as he turned and inspected my dainty hand in his.

“No, sir. Not really.” I replied, timidly.

“This here is a college boy!” Geri yelled. “He don’t have to work like we do.”

They put me on weed-eating after taking only a moment to make sure I knew how to use the weed-eater. It sat heavily in my hand, and I walked to each curb or sidewalk they pointed to with as much haste as I could muster carrying a twenty pound machine. It only took an hour before I realized my mistake in wearing shorts instead of pants and tennis-shoes instead of boots. Dew drenched grass glued itself to my leg and shoes.

“You youngin’s!” Gary said, an older wrinkled man who wore a heavy brown Cart-hart jacket, shook his head with laughter as I approached a picnic table for lunch.

“You have no idea what a real days of work is like. You should be a man by now!” He said, his voice full of disgrace.

The men let me hose off my legs, and with soupy shoes, I took to setting tables and chairs up for a meal they were having the following Saturday. My shoes slogged and slushed the entire way, and by 3:00 p.m., I was more than ready to call it quits.

“We at least know the boys got what it takes to last a day, I guess.” Sanders, a quiet and almost brooding man, said as he and the others came to tell me I was free to leave.

“We’ll get to teach the kid something, I reckon.” Darren and Carl, two rotund brothers said in almost unison. Darren and Carl did more maintenance and spent more time in the church building than the other four. Every time I saw them they were smiling or laughing.

My dad once said these guys were just good ole boys who knew about working with their hands. And I was just pretentious enough to think I was better than them before the day had begun.

“Joe, we’ll see ya bright an’ early tomorro’” Skid said, shaking my hand outside the massive building.

I could barely climb into my beaten up Ford that first day, and as I pulled up to Monica’s house to get out, I suddenly felt ten years older.

Monica came out to embrace me, still dressed in her own all-black uniform from having served at the local restaurant all day.

“Did you have a good day?” She asked, smiling.

“I can barely walk.” I replied.

She sat me down and gave me a plate of hand burger helper I devoured in only minutes. I tried stay awake to hear about her day but dozed off in the leather sofa while the Tv blared.

She woke me up hours later to help me move to the bed.

“You’ll feel better tomorrow, I’m sure,” She said hopefully, her freckled face smiling with joy and promise.

“And think, college is only a month away. You got this,” She said as we both laid down.

“I just hope it gets better. I just really hope college is better,” I murmured, half asleep.

“It will. I’m sure.” She said.

I dreamt that night that I was in a house I knew was mine with Monica and two kids running around barefoot and laughing. I’d be a man. I’d give my family a good life. I knew I would.