by M. Mabie
Just what I needed.
“Okay, is there anywhere I can rent something to drive until it’s fixed?”
“Well, as long as I can get the parts and you didn’t completely tear it up, I should be able to have it back to you in a few days. I might be able to find something for you to drive.”
I looked behind me to O’Fallon, who was listening to the prognosis. She gave me a phony smile full of teeth.
Really nice teeth, to be honest.
I’d love to get a closer look at them.
“How about you walk around back and I’ll show you my rental. You’re going to love it.”
I had a suspicion that he was still giving me shit.
“Now, Van, this is no Cadillac, but she does turn heads,” he said as I walked around back with him. O’Fallon, hot on our heels. “There she is.”
I couldn’t help myself that time. I laughed. And then I laughed a little more. There sat a red and orange, nineteen eighty-something piece of suburban history.
“The Astro Van?” I asked.
He answered, “The Astro Vaughn.”
Perfect. It was too funny, too ugly, and too awesome to say no to. What choice did I have anyway?
“You’ll rent me that?”
“Well, Astro, you’re going to have a big bill from me. I don’t need you out blowing your money on rentals. You know what I mean? I’m practical.”
“And generous, too. And did you just call me Astro?” As much as this guy liked giving me a hard time, I kind of liked him. I saw easily where O’Fallon got her spunk.
“I like Astro better than Van. It suits you. Mutt, go get the keys and show him the Vaughn. Would you?” he said and then took the steps up the side of the loading dock back into the garage.
Clearly, the van hadn’t been driven in a while, but it was well taken care of, as far as thirty-year-old Astro vans went.
I walked over to it and tried the handle, but it was locked. Cupping my hands around my face, I pressed my head against the glass to look inside.
It was clean and the back seats were pulled out. It would actually work out pretty good for hauling things from the hardware store, which was the next place on my list.
“It’s not that bad. I drove it,” O’Fallon said, walking up beside me.
“It’ll work. I can’t really be too picky, can I?”
“Nope,” she answered as she dropped the keys in my hand. “Sometimes you have to pump it a few times for it to start, but be careful or you’ll flood it. The air conditioner doesn’t work, but it’s not that hot yet, and…”
“I think I can manage,” I said, focused on trying to get the door open. The key wouldn’t turn. The handle stayed stuck up when I lifted it.
“I wasn’t done yet,” she rattled off then pushed me out of the way. She shoved her shoulder against the door and the handle fell back into the normal position. “Sometimes you have to give the door a shove. It gets stuck.”
So I noticed, and I noticed the other guy who worked there watching the whole thing play out as well.
I gave him a little wave, but he turned and walked in.
“There you go,” she said with an eyebrow cocked. “Drive safely.”
She was feisty.
As many shitty things as the universe had thrown into my life over the past month, that hot, smartass look on her face made everything okay with me.
I was so glad I was there.
I couldn’t believe he drove off in that thing. I hated the van. I only drove it for a summer in high school before I couldn’t do it anymore and dipped into my savings for my truck.
It didn’t seem to faze him at all.
Vaughn had shitty luck. I was almost scared to spend any more time with him, but, still, I couldn’t stay away.
I went to the house that night and helped him after work, and the next night, and the one after that.
I didn’t finish a single lure that I’d promised Mr. Walton, and I knew he’d be up my ass if I didn’t get them done, but I liked going to Vaughn’s place.
It was really coming together, too.
The flooring people came. Appliances were delivered. The new countertop arrived, and even though he hated it, I kind of liked it. I thought it was different.
Soon, we were moving furniture around, and I helped him unpack some of the kitchen things, putting silverware and pots and pans where they needed to go.
He asked about local sports and what it was like growing up in a small town, and I tried to only hit the highlights.
I didn’t need him running off, or looking for somewhere else to go. Not after all of the hard work we’d—he’d—put into his house.
So I was surprised when I showed up and he wasn’t in his normal go-getter mode. He was unpacking some stuff in the living room. When I came in the front door, he roughly shoved something back in a box and shut it. It looked like a picture.
I wondered if it was a picture of them before they broke up. Or before whatever happened, happened.
“Sorry, was I interrupting?” I said. It was Saturday morning, and the night before we’d finished painting the two extra bedrooms upstairs. We’d been up late, and I don’t even think I made it home until about midnight.
He sighed. “Why do you keep showing up here?” His voice wasn’t angry or rude, mostly solemn. Maybe a little curious.
It made me think, who wouldn’t want to be there with him?
“Why don’t you tell me to go away?”
We stood there, me in his doorway, him on the other side of the room, and stared at each other.
Neither of us answered, and after a while, I didn’t know what I should do. I considered going home or going fishing, since it was nice, or just leaving.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I went into his laundry room, like I had every right to, picked up the basket of clean towels I’d folded and left there the night before. Then, I marched past him, up the stairs and put them in the closet in the hall.
After that, I went into one of the extra bedrooms, unpacked the new bedding he’d brought with him and made the bed. When I was threading the curtain rod through one of the sheer linen panels for the windows in that room, he came in and helped me.
He didn’t say anything else about it, but when we were done with that room, he said, “Thank you.”
Then we went to the next.
It was odd. I didn’t belong there. But you know what? I wanted to be there and I knew he wanted me there, too.
That day was pretty quiet. I decided to go home that afternoon and work on the new spinners I had to make and get Mr. Walton’s finished before he got upset.
Not since that day, almost a week before, had he asked me again about a boyfriend or anything like that. Maybe after spending some time with me, hearing how I talked and seeing how I behaved, he wasn’t interested in me at all.
That would be fine.
Not awesome, because I was really beginning to like him, but I’d understand, and if anything, we might be friends.
He must have realized I wasn’t the dating type.
Still, my daddy didn’t raise a sissy, and I didn’t hide from stuff like that. Vaughn was a good guy, and I wanted him to know that if he needed or wanted a friend, now that his house was completely livable, I’d like to be his.
“Did you know the Cozy Cone opened up today, Mutt?” Dad asked from the living room. “Me and Dub stopped in there. Saw Dean. He wanted to know what you did last night. I told him if you weren’t at Astro’s you were probably just out in the garage.”
“Yeah, I was out there working,” I said as I rinsed off my plate from dinner.
“Figures. Anyway, they have your favorite lemon ice cream right now. Thought you’d like to know that.”
I loved lemon ice cream.
After I cleaned up the kitchen and finished a few more lures, I hopped in my truck and drove to town. Slowly, trying to decide if I wanted to stop at Vaughn’s or not.
I stopped. I had somethin
g to get off my chest. I hated that feeling.
I’m sure he heard me coming. He met me at the door wearing shorts and a T-shirt.
“Hey there,” he said.
“Hey. Want to go for a walk? The ice cream place is open for the summer now.”
“I’ll buy,” he offered and smiled brightly, and I was one hundred percent better. Funny how someone else’s smiles could make me happy.
“Okay, but I’m getting a large.”
“That’s fine, get whatever you want. Let me grab some shoes and my wallet.”
I waited outside and sat on the concrete cap that ran along the front wall of the porch.
He came out and I stood, then for some reason I wanted to hug him. I didn’t though. I didn’t need to be any weirder than I already was.
We walked to the Cozy Cone, which was only about five blocks from his house, and were back by the time it got dark.
We sat on his steps and finished our large lemon ice creams. Turned out he liked it too. That’s not a totally honest depiction of how it happened, though. I basically told him it was the best thing on the planet and that he was a fucking idiot if he didn’t want some.
So he got a large like me.
If he didn’t like it, my plan was to eat his, too.
“You know what, I think I’m going to replace a few of the boards on this porch and paint it,” he said as we sat there watching the fireflies flicker and glow against the night.
“What color?”
“I was thinking maybe a dark brown or black, maybe a dark grey color. I’m not sure yet. Then get a few porch swings for either side of the door. What do you think?” His bare knee nudged mine, and I nudged him back.
“Sounds good.” I didn’t want to impose on him anymore. Yesterday didn’t feel good, and I knew I needed to take a few steps back. Give him some room to breathe.
“Maybe you could help me sometime?” he asked, his voice nonchalant.
“You don’t need me to help you with that.”
He turned toward me, so I mirrored what he did and faced him. “I know I don’t need you to, but you didn’t come by all day and I found myself looking for projects to start so that you’d come back.”
Then his large hand glided across my leg and I wasn’t sure what was happening. He didn’t like me. Not like that anyway.
I looked down at it and then back up at him, then swatted a June bug that had been flying around on the porch attracted to the light.
“You wanted me to come back?”
“Yeah,” he said, relaxed and cool. “You’re fun to be around. I like looking at you.”
I swallowed hard. “You do?”
How was that even remotely possible?
“I know I just moved here and we’ve only known each other for a few days, but I like spending time with you.”
He leaned in. Then I leaned in, feeling like my heart was about to jump out of my mouth.
“I don’t know how to do this, Vaughn,” I admitted.
“Do what?” he asked quietly, so close I could smell lemon on his sexy lips. His eyes never left mine and I felt like I was blinking every second.
“I’m not the kind of girl many guys want to … do remodeling projects with,” I admitted, knowing that it wasn’t cool or smooth, but that he’d understand what I was trying to say.
“We don’t have to do any remodeling projects until you want to. Then—when you’re sure—we’ll paint the porch together. We’ll paint the hell out of it.” I liked the way he humored me. I liked the way his hand was still on my leg. And I really liked that, instead of kissing me, he just put his forehead against mine. It was sweet.
“No projects tonight,” he added. “Just come back.”
The sound of a car going by startled me out of the moment.
“I’ve got some stuff to do the next few nights, but I’ll come back,” I said, standing up and walking backwards toward my truck. I needed time to process what he’d said. I’d never felt like that. I’d never expected someone like him to ever be interested in someone like me.
But, even though I couldn’t explain it, I really liked that he did.
“Okay, stop by when you want to,” he said and stood.
I got in my pickup and went home, my mind racing with thoughts and feelings I’d never experienced.
I didn’t know what to do with them, but I knew I needed to think.
What if I was reading too much into what he said?
What if I let myself like him and then he changed his mind?
What if he only liked me because I was the only girl he’d met in Wynne so far?
What if he was serious?
Yeah, I wanted to see her. Ever since the other night—when we almost kissed—I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the way she was looking at me. Like she wanted me too. Like if I didn’t kiss her she’d be disappointed.
It was almost too much.
I’d only been in Wynne for little over a week. Regardless of how much progress I’d—we’d—made on the house, I hadn’t been there long.
Still, I sensed I knew her. From the first night, when she shared her dinner with me—sure, that was probably pity, but I took it—to the next day when she brought me things from the store, knowing I probably hadn’t been there. To her help and fast friendship when, all joking aside, I’d really needed one. All of this.
How did she know?
Why did she think to do all of those kind things for me?
And why did it strike something so deep down inside my gut that I wasn’t sure what to do with it?
It was just about sunset when I walked out of the office. Despite it only having been my second one, it was another great day. I didn’t know if it was the beat-up, old Astro van or me, but as I pulled out of the parking lot, we were looking for her.
I drove slowly around town, seeing if I could find her truck. I rolled the stubborn window down in the off chance I could hear her loud pickup tearing down one of the side roads I wasn’t on.
When that failed, I decided I’d just ride down the road. She’d said her house was the first one you got to and that we were neighbors.
I passed my house, and no more than a mile or so down the road, the pavement turned to clay dirt gravel. As I looked in the rearview mirror, there was just enough light to see I was kicking up dust.
It was like I was in one of those country songs I’d heard over and over, and I smiled. I’d never really driven out on an old dirt road, and I can’t lie. I enjoyed it. All two hundred feet of it.
I’d enjoy it a little more if she were with me, I thought.
Wasn’t it too soon to be thinking things like that? Wasn’t it too soon to be at the beginning of a relationship when I was only a month or so out of my last?
I needed a dude friend. I’d be on the lookout for one.
Since she wasn’t in town, her house was the next best guess, as far as I knew.
The road turned into a wye and her house was around the bend to the right. Two large trees flanked a sidewalk leading to a small front porch that looked like it wasn’t used for much. The Astro and I pulled into the drive and I looked around.
Her truck wasn’t there. Outside at least.
Not seeing anybody around, I wondered if I should go up to the door and at least say hello. It was a little odd for me to just pull in. It wasn’t like there was any reason I should be out this way.
Except there was.
I wanted to see her. Find out what she was up to. Be with her.
Most of all, I wanted to figure out why I couldn’t get her off my mind.
The house sat on a large green lot. There was a garage and an old barn that had open doors on both ends. If anyone was there I didn’t want to look like a creep poking around, but I still found myself getting out of the van. The door creaked loud enough for anyone within a mile to hear.
I walked up the drive further, so I could peek into the shed. No one was in there either.
Then, around the house I
saw another door, which looked much more used. There were boots lined up next to it and a faded, old rug that said, “Come on in.”
I wasn’t about to do that, but as I stood on it, I knocked.
And I waited.
And nobody came.
I honestly hadn’t planned on using it, but I was at a loss.
Earlier, going through patient files and getting familiar with how the women in the office did the paperwork, I may or may not have found a file—notably, it too said Mutt O’Fallon—and wrote her phone number down. I wasn’t familiar enough with the phone numbers around here to tell if it was a cell number, one to the shop, where she usually was during the day, or if it was to their house.
But, as I stared at it in my hand, I prayed it was her cell phone number I’d unceremoniously stolen.
Then, while I sent arbitrary prayers to a God who was too busy to listen to my silliness, I added that I’d also like it if she answered.
I took a deep breath and touched the green spot on the screen that said send.
Again, I waited.
It rang. Once. Twice. Then three times.
It clicked over and I thought she’d answered, but then realized it was her voicemail.
“Hi. You got me. Leave a message. I’ll call you back. If it’s an emergency, and you need my dad, call our after hours number. Three one five. Six three three. Nine one. Nine two. Talk to you later.”
Beep.
Hesitation hit me, but after a few seconds, I began to speak.
“Hi, O’Fallon. It’s Vaughn. I was just seeing what you were doing. I thought maybe I could buy you a beer for all of your help. I mean, I owe you more than a beer. I owe you a lot actually. Well, anyway, I was just thinking if you weren’t busy we could see each other. I guess I’ll just talk to you later. Now you have my number. Give me a call.”
I hung up absolutely sure I sounded like an ass. Chicks always dig guys who ramble and leave thirty-second voicemails that don’t really say shit except, hey, maybe you want to get a drink with me.
I didn’t want to get drunk. It was a Tuesday. We both had to work the next day, but it was still pretty early. And who knew, if she was like me, maybe she liked having a few cold ones after a long workday.