Wait for Me

by Diana Persaud

  Full of energy, he hopped out of bed and whistled a happy tune. Half an hour later, he turned on the light in his office and sat down at his desk. Papers were strewn all over his desk, covering the wood.

  I need to clean off this desk. Better add it to the list.

  He moved some papers and found his list.

  To Do List

  -Sign new contract with Cintas. Check prices for Coveralls?

  -Sign new contract with American Kleen Up

  -Sign new contract with ? Antifreeze recycling company.(Need to find out who Mr. Everett used).

  He scribbled ‘Clean off my desk’ then turned on the computer. He found Cintas’ website and clicked on the link to Coveralls.

  Hmm. Very soft in Navy. This one is Fire resistant in Dark Navy. Another one in Liberty Blue.

  He scrolled through each listing.

  All UL 2112 Certified. This last one is ASTM 1506. Flame Resistant. Also in Navy. All those metal buttons. Not sure whether or not that would be a hazard.

  He rubbed his jaw.

  What’s the difference between UL 2112 and ASTM 1506?

  Typing in each code, he searched Google. UL 2112 is certified for flash fire protection, arc flash protection and fire resistance.

  Then why the fuck did they list the fourth one as Fire Resistant when all of them are?

  Shaking his head, he went back to the tab that displayed Cintas Coveralls.

  Simple is best. The first one in Navy blue.

  He jotted down the code then called the local Cintas. After explaining that he was the new owner of Everett’s Auto Body Shop, he arranged to go in and sign a new contract. He jotted down the cost of the new uniform rental and cleaning service.

  A muffled honk drew his attention away from his list. He pushed up the large roller door, wincing at the high pitched whine.

  Have to remember to oil this door. Better add it to the list.

  “Anjali? What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to be your first customer. I need my oil changed,” she replied.

  “Honey, that’s sweet of you, but I’m not going to charge you for an oil change.”

  “Don’t be silly. I insist.”

  “Anjali—”

  “—You’re not going to make any money unless you charge your customers.”

  She handed him her credit card.

  “Honey—”

  “Do you address all your customers that way?” she asked.

  “Only single men,” he replied with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

  She chuckled and took a seat in the small waiting area. He gave her a ticket to fill out while he positioned her car over The Pit. Another customer wandered in and he spent a few minutes diagnosing his problem. After ringing up the work order, he climbed into the pit and changed Anjali’s oil. He carried the used motor oil to the recycling canister.

  The second container is almost full. Why haven’t they picked up the first one yet?

  Making a mental note to call the recycling company later, he dumped the oil into the canister. He checked her tire pressure then checked her fluids.

  Transmission fluid fine.

  Brake fluid fine.

  Power steering fluid looks good.

  “All right, Honey, oil’s been changed and everything looks good. I still don’t feel comfortable—”

  “—Business is business,” she interrupted.

  Resigned, he swiped her card.

  “How about dinner tomorrow night?” she asked.

  He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss.

  “Sounds great,” he said.

  He returned her keys and she backed out of the shop. He rotated a set of tires and replaced worn out brake pads. During a lull, he returned to the office and called American Kleen Up, the oil recycling company. A receptionist listened politely and promised someone would return his call.

  After a busy day, he trudged upstairs. He tossed a frozen dinner into the microwave. He dropped his uniform in the corner and took a long hot shower.

  Somehow his to-do-list had gotten longer instead of shorter.

  Tomorrow I’ll finish that list and my reward will be a night with Anjali.

  The next day he barely had time to leave a message with American Kleen Up before a steady stream of customers kept him busy. In the afternoon, they finally returned his call.

  “Mr. Keller, I’m afraid we are no longer doing business with your Auto Shop.”

  “I’m the new owner. I realize I have to sign a new contract. I’m ready to do that right now. But I want to know why your company didn’t pick up the oil under Mr. Everett’s contract.”

  The manager of American Kleen Up seemed to consider his question.

  “Perhaps you are not aware, but we randomly test the used motor oil sent to our facility.”

  “No, I didn’t know that. What does that have to do-”

  “The last container of oil we received from your shop was contaminated with antifreeze.”

  A stone formed in his stomach.

  “We sent a certified letter to Mr. Everett, informing him of our intent to report this to the EPA and terminate our contract.”

  “The EPA?” His voice was strained.

  The stone grew heavier.

  “We have to follow the laws, Mr. Keller.”

  “Of—of course you do. But I’m not like that. I would never—”

  “—Our company is not interested in doing business with Everett’s Auto Body Shop, Mr. Keller. Good-bye.”

  He stared at the phone. The heavy stone sank to the pit of his stomach.

  What the fuck am I going to do with all that contaminated oil? The existing container is almost full. I can’t do any more oil changes until I get a new container.

  He shut his eyes and slumped against his chair.

  I need to close the shop. I didn’t even make it two fucking days.

  Shoulders sagging, he struggled to pull down the large roller door. Had Mr. Singh been right about him?

  He shuffled back to his office and dropped in his office chair. Anjali believed in him and he wasn’t going to disappoint her. He straightened in his chair.

  How can I fix this?

  His fingers drummed against the desk top.

  I need an empty oil container. I need a new recycling company.

  He did a search on the Internet and found two prospective companies. He called each one and explained his situation. Each receptionist jotted down his information and promised someone would call him back before closing.

  “Please, I need someone to call me today.”

  He winced at the desperation in his voice.

  After receiving a hollow assurance, he hung up the phone. Feeling defeated, he wandered aimlessly around his shop.

  Did I make the wrong choice? Was this just a foolish dream?

  He picked up a bottle of motor oil and returned it to the supply area. Deciding that keeping busy would keep him from his depressing thoughts, he cleaned up the Shop. At five o’clock, Auto Body Kleen Up returned his call.

  “I understand your situation, Mr. Keller, but my guys are close to quitting time. I don’t have anybody who can deliver your oil canister today. I can get it to you sometime Thursday.”

  “Thursday?”

  A wave of nausea washed over him.

  My business won’t survive being closed that long.

  “Well…I…suppose you can drive up here tonight and pick up an empty canister. You could sign the contract too.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Smith.”

  You just saved my business.

  “What’s your address?”

  He jotted down the address.

  Three hours away. I should be back by midnight.

  “I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Smith. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

  He grabbed the documents establishing he was the new owner and drove to Auto Body Kleen Up. His cell phone lay forgotten, buried under a pile of papers.

  Wednesday morning
he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a line of customers waiting outside his shop. His new oil canister was halfway full by mid afternoon. While he took a short lunch break between customers, he sat at his desk. A red flashing light caught his attention. He moved a paper and found his cell phone.

  Missed calls: 3.

  Anjali. Dinner last night. Fuck.

  He called her cell phone.

  “Honey, I’m so sorry. I had some big problems at work. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck.

  “I was worried, Tommy. Why didn’t you just call and let me know?” she asked.

  “I forgot my cell. I had to go pick up something. Didn’t get home until midnight. Sorry, Honey.”

  His throat felt thick.

  “It’s okay, Tommy. You can make it up to me Friday night. I made reservations for us at Mikey’s restaurant.”

  He released the breath he was holding.

  “What are we celebrating?”

  “My birthday.”

  “Birthday? I’ll definitely be there…Honey?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thanks for being understanding. You’re the best,” he said softly.

  “Tommy.” Her voice was breathless.

  “Customer. Gotta go. See you Friday, Honey.”

  ***

  Excited about her dinner plans, Anjali returned the phone to the cradle. She checked her word count and was pleasantly surprised to find that she had typed five thousand words.

  At this rate, I’ll finish a week ahead of schedule. Moving here was the best decision I ever made.

  Ding-Dong.

  Peeking out the window, she saw Jiji’s car parked in her driveway. She hurried down the stairs and rushed to the front door.

  Jiji shifted the baby carrier to her right hand.

  “Jiji! What are you doing here?”

  She bent down to hug her niece and nephew.

  “Ma told me about that mechanic. Tom.”

  Her stomach twisted and she knew she was in store for a lecture. She kissed her niece on the cheek then stood.

  “Come in, make yourself at home,” she said.

  She led the children to her living room and they climbed on the couch.

  “Do you want to watch Frozen?”

  They nodded happily and she turned on the DVD for them.

  Jiji set the carrier down on the floor.

  “I warned you about him, Anjali.”

  She nodded politely, trying not to roll her eyes.

  “Ma is beside herself.”

  “Ma is overreacting. I’m not a child anymore.”

  “Are you—” she took a deep breath. “—are you sleeping with him?”

  Jiji’s eyes grew wide when she didn’t deny it.

  “Oh, Anjali! You’re ruined! No one is going to want you-”

  “—Jiji, enough!”

  She lowered her voice.

  “Tommy doesn’t care and right now I’m not concerned about what other men think.”

  “You’re in love with him,” Jiji accused.

  Jiji jumped up and started pacing.

  “This is awful,” she muttered to herself.

  “Why is it awful, Jiji?”

  “You’re Indian. He isn’t.”

  “So what?” she demanded. “I don’t care about the color of his skin, and frankly, I’m surprised that you do.”

  “I-I only meant—” Jiji faltered.

  She sank to the chair. “You’re not ashamed to be seen with him? Don’t you worry that people will give you strange looks?”

  “Jiji, the only people who seem to be offended are my family.”

  She sat next to Jiji.

  “I have no reason to be ashamed of Tommy. He’s courageous. How many people do you know talk about being their own boss?”

  “Almost everyone I know,” Jiji admitted.

  “But how many of them actually do it?”

  Jiji shrugged.

  “Very few. He’s taking a big risk and I admire him for it.”

  “If you’re not ashamed of him, then why didn’t you tell Ma about him?”

  “I wasn’t ready yet. I didn’t expect him to come over the other night.”

  Her niece woke up and wailed. Jiji picked her up and rocked her gently in the crook of her arm.

  “You’re serious about him. Is he serious about you?”

  “Of course he is.”

  Jiji frowned.

  “How do you know that?”

  “He wanted me to move in with him.”

  Jiji laughed.

  “See-that proves it. He’s only after sex. If he was interested in a real relationship, he would have proposed.”

  “Jiji, you’re wrong about him.”

  “I’m sorry to be harsh, Anjali, but he’s only hanging around until someone younger comes along.”

  “No, he’s not like—”

  “—I don’t want you to get hurt, Anjali.”

  Jiji squeezed her hand.

  “Men like him are selfish. He’ll put his own needs first.”

  “He’s been busy this week because it’s his first week running the Shop. It takes a lot of work—”

  “—see? Already you’re making excuses for him.”

  As if she’d been burned, she yanked her hand away.

  “He’s coming to dinner Friday night. You’ll see this isn’t only about sex.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Late Wednesday night Tom finally had a chance to return to his To Do List.

  Now to find an antifreeze disposal company. I can’t believe Mr. Everett was mixing antifreeze with oil and sending contaminated oil to American Kleen Up.

  He searched for local companies then jotted down their numbers on his notepad.

  Tomorrow I’ll get up a little early and make some calls.

  He checked their business hours.

  Damn it. I’ll have to wait until lunchtime to call them.

  He spent an hour going through his record of sales and tallying them. Then he tallied up his business expenses. He leaned back in the creaky office chair, studying the two numbers.

  I’m going to need someone to help while I’m taking care of business issues.

  He flipped through the old Personnel files.

  Tony is a great mechanic but won’t do oil changes. Jimmy’s not as good a mechanic as Tony, but he can handle oil and tire changes.

  He reached for the phone.

  One o’clock? That can’t be right.

  He double-checked his watch and the computer.

  Rubbing his eyes, he shut off the light as he made his way up to his apartment. A short while later, he climbed into his empty bed, his thoughts drifting to Anjali.

  Thursday morning went smoothly. He called Jimmy to offer him a job and he said he could start that afternoon. Auto Body Kleen Up picked up the used oil containers and dropped off two more. Although it was more than he could afford, he arranged to pay Auto Body Kleen Up’s extra fees to take the contaminated oil containers and dispose of them properly.

  Jimmy showed up just before lunch, so he was able to return to his office. He called several antifreeze disposal companies and found one with a reasonable fee. He made an appointment to sign the contract on Friday.

  An older man in a perfectly starched suit stood by his office door.

  “Mr. Keller?”

  “Yes, Sir. How can I help you?”

  “I’m Rick Wallace from the EPA.”

  He stopped breathing as time slowed down.

  EPA? Holy Fuck.

  He stood and shook Mr. Wallace’s hand, heart pounding in his chest.

  “How can I help you, Mr. Wallace?”

  “I’m looking for the owner, Mr. Everett.”

  “I recently bought this business from Mr. Everett, Sir.”

  Mr. Wallace studied him briefly before asking, “Do you have the contract showing the sale of Everett’s Auto Body Shop?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

 
He opened the file cabinet and found the documents. He handed them to Mr. Wallace.

  “I’ll need to make a copy for my files.”

  Mr. Wallace set his briefcase down on the side of his desk.

  Click.

  He opened the briefcase and pulled out a thin manila folder.

  “We received some complaints from American Kleen Up about contaminated oil from this business.”

  “Contaminated oil,” he repeated.

  “Since you are the new owner, I can’t fine you for Mr. Everett’s actions.”

  Oh, thank goodness—

  “—However—”

  He tensed.

  “—I need to make a thorough assessment of this Garage to ensure that you are in compliance.”

  He stared at Mr. Wallace.

  “You have to shut down your business.”

  He shut his eyes, a tiny part of him hoping once he opened them again, Mr. Wallace would be gone.

  This is only a dream. A nightmare.

  “How long does your assessment take?” he croaked.

  “A few days.”

  He rubbed his neck.

  Closed until Tuesday? Wednesday? That’s too long.

  “The oil—the contaminated oil—I paid for it to be disposed of. I have the paperwork. Right here.”

  He rifled through the papers on his desk and found the work order.

  “I’m running an honest business, Mr. Wallace. Can’t you work with me on this?”

  Mr. Wallace glanced around the office. It was obvious he wasn’t taking short cuts to pad his wallet.

  “I’ll make you a deal, Mr. Keller. I will allow you to remain open for the rest of this week. Saturday morning, I will begin my assessment. If I find any violation, I will fine you and shut you down. Permanently. Agreed?”

  “Yes, Sir. I understand.”

  The rest of the week went by in a blur. While Jimmy handled their customers, he checked everything to ensure his shop was up to EPA guidelines. He discovered his Class C fire extinguisher had expired two years ago and his Class B fire extinguisher was missing.

  If there had been a gasoline fire….

  He couldn’t finish the thought.

  How could Everett put me at risk like that? That son of a bitch couldn’t shell out seventy bucks?

  Shaking his head, he marched out of the office.

  “Jimmy, I’m going to sign a contract then pick up a few supplies. I’ll be back by closing.”

  “Okay, Boss.”