Tough Talk

by Jessie Gussman

  “Totally understandable since you’re mothering small children,” Harris said without looking up.

  “Well,” Kelly said after a few minutes of silence. “Aren’t you going to read it to us?” She took another bite of her cookie.

  “I can read faster when I read to myself, and I have to see what he says today. He’s so funny!”

  “He is funny,” Cassidy said, lifting one of her twins and offering her a cookie. “But his advice is always 100% accurate. I think the writer is actually a woman.”

  “Of course, it’s a woman. Dr. Phil isn’t even this astute,” Harris said with a firm nod.

  Cassidy raised a brow. “Thing is, he never offers advice to women. Only men.”

  “I’ve seen the billboards around here. Like he’s a famous radio or TV personality. Is he based in Pennsylvania?” Kelly asked.

  “I think he’s out of LA,” Harris said. “The big ones always are. Or New York.”

  “So, are you going to read it to us?” Kelly asked, despite her unbelief in the power of love that Dr. T seemed to promote.

  Harris lifted her eyes and cleared her throat dramatically. “Okay, here goes: ‘Dear Dr. T, My wife complains because I spend too much time in the garage. She wants me to help with dishes and crap like that. How can I tell her I’m busy? Thanks. -Working in my garage.’”

  “Wow. The jerk needs to realize the wife can’t do it all,” Cassidy said.

  “Yeah, his poor wife should be the one writing in.” Kelly set the book down.

  Harris’s eyes were dancing. “Ready for his answer?”

  “Sure. But there’s no way I’m coming down in favor of the guy on this one,” Kelly said.

  “Me either,” Cassidy agreed.

  “‘Dear Working, Sorry ’bout your luck, dude. But your wife works hard too. Give her the package of that sweet little something you bought her to wear and tell her if she meets you in the garage wearing it after you help her put the cherubs in bed and hands you your filter wrench while you change the oil, you’ll do the dishes for a week. (Tip: take them out to the yard after she goes to work and hose them off. Make sure to get them back in the cupboard before she gets home.) Don’t blame me if she announces Baby #3 a month from now.’”

  Their laughter drew the attention of the kids playing ball. Harris shushed them. “Stop laughing, girls!”

  “Do you think he’s really going to do that?”

  “The dishes? I hope not,” Cassidy said.

  “Of course, he’s not. Although the idea of wearing lingerie in the garage...” Kelly almost slapped her hand over her mouth.

  “Is not something you’ll ever worry about,” Cassidy said to her. “Preston probably doesn’t even know how to lift the hood on that sporty thing he drives.”

  Kelly swallowed. Preston wasn’t exactly the kind of guy who would do anything except park his car in the garage. Both of her friends were looking at her strangely. “To you, Cassidy. Torque’s a mechanic.” She grinned, hoping it looked real. “I’m definitely knocking before I walk into his garage from now on. I don’t need to see your ‘sweet little something.’”

  “I’ll have to make sure he sees this column. Although he doesn’t have a problem helping with the kids.” Cassidy grinned, a very unlawyerly grin. She nodded at Harris’s phone. “No question about it, that guy is good.” She nodded her head in appreciation, before sighing. “I’d better round up the kids and head out.” She walked away, still smiling.

  Harris clicked her phone off. “I so look forward to that column.”

  “You and half the country.” Kelly set a book down in the correct pile.

  “I think it’s more than half.” Harris spun a little, a dreamy smile on her face.

  “It does seem to be the most popular thing going. Folks are so fed up with politics.” Kelly kept her head down, pretending to study the book. Preston’s head was always in politics. She grew tired of the constant arguing and rancor that being in politics seemed to entail.

  “Yeah,” Harris said. “Somehow Dr. T manages to find the bridge that spans our differences, rather than the river that divides them.”

  “And he always makes us laugh,” Kelly admitted.

  “True. Although we’re saying ‘he.’ I’m almost positive he’s a she.” Harris’s smile slipped.

  “You could be right.” Kelly picked at a lone crumb on the counter. What would it be like to be with a man who made her laugh or made her feel desirable? She shook those thoughts away. Preston was a great guy. They had a solid friendship. They really did love each other. She would be able to spend her life getting kids off the street and showing kids like Jasmine someone cared about them. She was lucky to have Preston and grateful for the support of his parents, especially his mother, who was almost like her mother too.

  “Are you okay?” Harris asked.

  Kelly jerked her head up. She hadn’t realized that Harris had been studying her. Hopefully her thoughts hadn’t been reflected on her face.

  “Of course.” She racked her brain for an excuse, just in case her face had shown more than it should have. “I was in an accident today.”

  “Oh, no! Why didn’t you say so? Are you okay?” Harris laid a hand on her arm and searched her body like there would be blood she hadn’t noticed before.

  “I’m fine.” Kelly held both hands up. “The older gentleman who hit me is fine too. My car...not so fine. And the man didn’t want it turned in because he was afraid his kids would have his license taken away.”

  “So he’s going to pay for it himself?”

  She brushed the crumb off the counter and said as nonchalantly as possible, “It happened over on the south side, right in front of Tough Baxter’s garage. He’s doing the repairs.”

  “Then your car is in good hands.” Harris’s voice trailed off as one of Cassidy’s twins started crying, and she hurried over to help.

  “I know.” Kelly looked at her phone. A couple of hours until it was time to take the kids back to their homes. The basketball game was winding down, and it’d be time to help with homework.

  Maybe she’d stop by the new place after she dropped the kids off and look around a bit. Dream. After all, she wanted to be the biggest blessing she could be to as many children as possible. Finding this property was just the first step. She could spend some time enjoying it.

  TOUGH LEANED AGAINST the side of the building. The streetlight was out, and the darkness enveloped him. There was a time, not that long ago, when he’d have been enjoying a cigarette right now while waiting for the paint on Mr. Hormell’s car to dry. Smoking had been a stupid habit, taken up because it was the only thing he could do that wouldn’t completely break his mother’s heart if she’d still been living. Drinking was out of the question. And he’d promised that he wouldn’t run around with lots of women like his dad, so he had made girls completely off-limits; it was the only way he knew to keep his promise. Drugs had never interested him. He’d seen too much of what they could do to a man. So smoking it was. An added benefit was that people didn’t expect him to talk as much when he had a cancer stick hanging out of his mouth.

  He’d quit. It hadn’t been easy, and the urge still stole over him at times. Like now. Something to keep his hands and mouth busy, since Kelly had just walked around the corner. He couldn’t actually see her in the dark, but there was no mistaking her scent which blew toward him on the early evening breeze. The scent which brought images of glitter and sunshine to his mind had been burned into his brain earlier in the day.

  Her feet made little tapping noises on the cement. She must have gotten new shoes since he dropped her off at the center earlier this afternoon.

  She stopped at the door to what would be “her” side of the warehouse, still a quarter block away from where he stood. She sighed. A soft whisper in the dark.

  From experience, he knew he might be able to talk to her now. His tongue loosened after the sun went down and the lights went out. He never considered himself a creature of th
e night, but he definitely found it easier to talk when he couldn’t see the person he spoke to. Or maybe when he thought the person couldn’t see him. Yeah. He thought of his computer and his work on it. Definitely that was what made the difference. When he didn’t feel like he was being watched, the words flowed easier.

  The doorknob rattled. Kelly let out a frustrated whisper. It was locked; he’d made sure of it after she’d fallen into his office earlier. He tilted his head. Had she come back innocently looking at the building she’d agreed to rent? Or had she agreed to rent the building because she was onto him?

  He dismissed the idea. After spending so much time watching her around town, he was sure she wasn’t with the press. Almost sure.

  Soft, slow clicks sounded on the sidewalk. They stopped after a few feet, like maybe she was peering into the door on his side of the building. The one he seldom used that went straight into his shop.

  He shoved his hands into his pockets, and his voice came out raspy in the darkness. “Looking for something?”

  She gasped and jumped. “Who are you? Where are you?”

  Tough was surprised at the fear in her voice. He hadn’t meant to scare her. His fingers closed around the lighter in his pocket. He pulled it out and snapped it on, holding it just in front of his chest so she could see his face.

  With the light in front of him, he lost even her outline. He didn’t hear her shoes click either, so her voice beside him was a shock.

  “Tough.”

  He snapped the light off. Since she would be renting beside him, he figured he’d have more chances to have a conversation with her, but he hadn’t expected it to be tonight. If he had even a glimmer of being able to say a few words, the light had to go. He couldn’t see her, but she could see him, and it would mess with his head. Like his head wasn’t already messed up.

  “Why don’t you like me?” she asked, her voice husky, with an earthy tone he found almost as irresistible as her scent.

  She thought he didn’t like her. “I don’t?”

  “Why?” she insisted.

  He’d meant it as a question. His inflection skills were undoubtedly rusty. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall.

  He tried again, trying to put the right inflection in it. “I don’t.”

  He felt more than saw her lean against the wall beside him.

  “Is Mr. Hormell’s car done?”

  Yeah, that was better. He could talk about cars easily in the dark. “One more coat.”

  “Oh, good.” She shifted, and her scent became stronger. “I’m renting the other side, so I guess we’ll see each other a lot.”

  “Hmm.”

  “I’m going to be having some remodeling done. It’ll be a couple weeks before I move in. But I’ll have kids running around. I hope that’s not going to be a problem?”

  There was no problem. Not with her. Not with having kids running around. All summer, there were kids out. He’d never kicked anyone out of his shop.

  “I’m a little worried about some of them. They all come from bad backgrounds. There didn’t used to be so much easy access to drugs in the area, but I’ve seen so many problems with opioids.” She paused, giving a soft sigh. He could just see the faint outline of her hand, fingering her purse strap. Just hear the whisper of movement. “I’ve heard of how beneficial it is to have children mixed in with senior citizens...that’s one of the benefits if I do this without government money. I can use real-time knowledge about what works and doesn’t and shift things as I see fit—like opening a center here. If I have to go through the government red tape, it will take forever, and the place will be rented out.”

  It would, because if she’d waited another week, he would’ve had the money.

  She went on a little more about her hopes and dreams for the kids and seniors. The husky note faded out as she got more into the plans she had. He missed the huskiness but still enjoyed listening to her thoughts. After a half an hour where she barely came up for breath, and he was sure the paint was dry, she finally stopped and gave a small laugh.

  “I guess I’ve talked your ear off.” She laughed again. “When you work with kids, you don’t usually get a chance to have a captive audience. You’re easy to talk to.” She straightened from the side of the building where she’d been leaning. The disappointment pooling in his stomach surprised him.

  He needed to go paint that car. Typically, he didn’t dally when it came to jobs. But he’d enjoyed this time, in the dark, with Kelly. She was engaged—he couldn’t forget—but that didn’t mean he couldn’t like listening to her.

  She stood close enough to him that he could see her outline, and it hadn’t moved. He waited. He’d leave when she did.

  A sigh whispered through the darkness. “I guess I’m feeling restless,” she said softly.

  “We all do at some point,” Tough said, surprised at how easily the words came out. He didn’t know what she was feeling restless about—her work, her fiancé, her life in general—but wished he had the words to ask.

  “The feeling goes away, I guess.”

  “Yeah.” And like he’d done all his life, he just waited. Maybe she’d tell.

  “My friend Cassidy is getting married. Well, you know. It’s to your brother. I keep forgetting that.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I should be planning my own wedding.”

  Her fiancé had a pile of money, and she’d be set for life. She’d be able to rent a hundred warehouses to turn into kids’ play areas. If Tough were a better person, he’d be happy about that and not have this hope in his chest that Kelly would dump her new rich fiancé. He clicked the lighter in his pocket. Dump the fiancé and what? Fall in love with the poor-as-dirt mechanic and body guy who couldn’t string a sentence together in her presence and could never provide her with everything she wanted?

  She sighed. “You know, I didn’t put it together right away today, but I remember you from first grade.” Turning toward him, she touched his arm. Cool fingers against his hot skin. “Do you?”

  A little grin hovered over his lips. “You were getting married back then, too.”

  She laughed. Little bells in the darkness. “Yep. The Marrying Game was the big thing on the playground. I was the last holdout in our group, and my friends were making me get married.”

  “You didn’t want to.”

  “They were dragging me to the ‘altar.’”

  He snorted. “One bridesmaid had a hold of each arm.”

  Her voice held a smile. “Yep. And Chance Detweiler was waiting at the fence to say ‘I do.’ But you came over and said that I ought to get to choose who I wanted.”

  “Is that what I said?”

  “I wouldn’t forget. Because for some reason, even for the game, even at that age, I couldn’t say words I didn’t mean. Not words that serious.”

  Even back then, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. And couldn’t stand for her to be “marrying” someone else. Even if it was a first-grade game.

  “I’m not sure why, but I remember that, and I remember that you took me to the Fitzsimmonses’ house after school that day. You told me she wanted a little girl and she’d probably take me.”

  “She brought my mom some soup.” His mom had been in bed, sick from the cancer treatments. Mrs. Fitzsimmons had been doing her “good deed” by taking the poor neighbor soup. “She said she only had a son and she longed for a little girl to dress up and have tea parties with.”

  “You took me to her house.”

  He couldn’t believe that it had never entered his little first-grade mind that the lady might not want Kelly.

  “She took me.”

  “Yeah.” Tough leaned his head back against the building and looked up at the stars. She’d taken Kelly all right. Taken her in and almost raised her like a daughter. Not quite like a daughter, since her son was now engaged to Kelly.

  Through the glow from the city, he could still see a few brave stars, shining through. Would he have sti
ll taken Kelly to Mrs. Fitzsimmons if he’d known he was effectively giving her away to another guy? Immediately he knew he would have. Even in first grade, Tough hadn’t had any thoughts that he was good enough for Kelly. Even when she was as dirty and scruffy as him. He admired her. He might even have a little crush on her, but he wasn’t under any illusions that there was any kind of future for them.

  “That changed my life.” The husky note was back in her voice.

  It had changed his too, since Mrs. Fitzsimmons had paid for Kelly to be transferred to the most exclusive private school in the city, and he’d barely seen her again.

  “You didn’t talk to me then any more than you talk now.”

  “Didn’t need to.”

  “All you said was you knew someone who wanted me.” She laughed, a sweet bell-like sound on the night air. “That’s all I needed to hear. Surprisingly you were right, and my whole life changed.” She shifted, and her hand landed on his arm again. This time, it stayed. “You know, that’s what I’ve wanted to do ever since. What you did that day—take kids who don’t have any hope. Who don’t have anyone to love them. And give them what you gave me.” She laughed, maybe at the irony. “As an adult woman, I want to be what you were in first grade. Someday.”

  He turned, grabbing her wrist, and whispered fiercely, “You’re better. Better than I ever was. Better than anyone else. You care about these kids, you truly do. You’re making a difference.”

  “No one understands why I need to. Why this is what I want. All I want.”

  He didn’t have to think about it. “It’s because any of those kids could have been you.”

  “Should have been me.”

  “No. You were meant for more.” He pushed away from the wall.

  “They are too.”

  “And you’re going to see they get the opportunities to reach their potential.”

  “It’s my dream. That has always been my dream. I always gave the Fitzsimmonses credit, but I realized today that it was you, too. I would never have met Mrs. Fitzsimmons if it hadn’t been for you.”

  There was truth in her statement. But he’d just been a first grader who saw two needs and met them. Not a big deal.