Within minutes she had the first bracket, holder--whatever you call that thing--up.
Wiping the sweat off her forehead, Leigh opened the window to allow a breeze to come into the hot apartment before she repositioned the chair to begin the process again. When she encountered the exact same problems as before, she grew convinced that the drill was laughing at her. She worked for what felt like an hour but finally, in the end, the brackets were up. They seemed a little bit wobbly, but that could just be her imagination.
She slid the chocolate-brown microfiber curtains she’d chosen for the main section of her home onto the rod. They were wonderfully thick, so no one would be able to see inside when she wanted her privacy. Her chair placed in the middle of the window, she slowly started to hang the curtain rod on the prepared brackets.
Stepping down off the chair, she looked up to admire her handiwork. One curtain rod down and five more to go. Two more would go in the living area. Then later, one in her library and two in her bedroom.
She adjusted the curtain, straightening one side. When she finished with the rods in this room, she’d hang up the matching holdbacks. Smiling to herself, she gave one final tug on the curtains and without warning, the left bracket seemed to fly out of its hole and the curtain rod and bracket fell to the floor. The metal bracket was out for revenge, because it made certain to hit her foot. But not just any spot on her foot. Somehow it managed to hit the exact toe that was a beautiful shade of purple and magenta thanks to bruising.
"Motherfucking son of a bitch! You cocksucking whore! You…You…" Words failed her and she just screamed as she picked the offensive object up. "I’m gonna make you pay for that. You did that on purpose. You don’t like me, but by God, I swear I am going to hang your ass on the wall and you will just have to deal with it," she yelled at the piece of metal in her hand.
At first she didn’t hear the knocking on her patio door. When she did, she glared down at the bracket in her hand and whispered, "And don’t think I’m through with you yet."
Opening the door, she was still in full rant mode and almost yelled "What?" She managed to control herself at the last minute.
"Yes?" She was flustered, but was glad she hadn’t just screamed in the man’s face.
"I was on my way for a jog and couldn’t help overhearing. Do you maybe need a hand?" He was wearing light pants and carrying a water bottle, as though to prove he were indeed about to go for a leisurely run. "I’d be glad to help you hang whatever it is you’re yelling at."
His smile was the final straw. She couldn’t take that look of Me man, you woman. Let me save you as I ride up on my white horse. "Oh, so what? You think just because I’m a woman that I can’t do anything for myself? That I should just stay in the kitchen where I belong and clean like a good little girl? Leave the repairs and hanging heavy things to the big strong men?" She started motioning toward him, then poked herself in the chest with her empty hand. "Well, let me tell you something. I do not need some man swooping in on a white horse to save me! I am perfectly capable of doing things for myself." She barely took a breath before continuing. "Hell, at my old house I was the one that hung everything. If something needed to be fixed, I fixed it. My ex was practically useless when it came to shit like that! It’s my toolbox, not his. I’m the one that makes repairs! I can do this! I am not some simpering female that needs a man to do things for her!"
Her rant ended when she ran out of breath. The guy just stood there staring at her. "So you don’t need any help?"
"Of course I need help! I was just yelling at a piece of metal!" She seemed to deflate. "Yes, I would appreciate that, thank you."