Begin to Begin

by Brown,A. S.

  "Dalton, stop." He looks up at me from behind the ancient machine.

  "What?"

  "You can't use this." I grab my purse off the chair I threw it on. "Come on. We are going to the office supply store to purchase you a shiny new computer."

  "I had a feeling I was going to need a new one. But you aren't buying anything. We will go get the credit card from my Uncle Mel. He lives in the house across the driveway." So, I guess that isn't Dalton's house. Maybe he doesn't even live here. "Let me run upstairs and change my shirt first, though. You can wait in here with Liam or come upstairs with me."

  Not sure what to do, I glance out in the garage and notice Liam is on his cell phone. "I guess I will come with you, if that’s OK." I smile awkwardly at him. He nods and I follow him out and around the side of the building and up the steps. He opens the door to a small but tidy apartment.

  "Welcome," he says as he spreads his arm out like Vanna White. I laugh and sit down at one of the chairs at the small table. He walks over to his bed and grabs a shirt from a bin next to it before walking to the bathroom. "I'll be right out."

  Taking in my surroundings, I don't notice a single touch of feminine in this place which leaves me to assume that he is single. He sure doesn't seem like the type to like to decorate.

  Dalton walks back out into the small kitchen area and he looks refreshed in his new t-shirt. Plain white this time instead of the plain black he had on beforehand. No frills. I like that.

  "Ready to meet my Uncle Mel?" he asks with a bit of a frown.

  "Absolutely. He can't be that bad."

  "Nah, he's not bad. Just older and he has his grumpy days." He looks at me smiling. "Which are most days."

  I laugh and can’t help wonder what I’m walking into.

  We make our way back outside in silence and walk beside each other down the short driveway to the small house.

  "So the garage has been in your family for a while then?" I ask.

  "Yeah, it was originally built by my grandpa to start with. He passed away before I was even born from a car accident. My Uncle Mel worked at the garage when Gramps passed away so he took it over. My grandma signed everything over to him. She moved to Miami after that."

  "Why Miami?" I only ask because Miami seems more of a city for the party going younger crowd.

  "Her sister was there. She has since passed away but Gran loves it there. I go visit her every couple of months. She's eighty-five and acts more like a thirty-year-old. Constantly on the go. I think she might even have herself a boyfriend." We laugh as we reach the door to the house.

  "She sounds fun."

  "You have no idea," he says while rolling his eyes dramatically. "Uncle Mel! You in here?" he calls into the house.

  "Yeah, boy. Back here. Whatcha need?" His uncle makes his way out of the back bedroom to the living room we are standing in. He walks with a cane, and I can tell that he’s in pain but most likely too stubborn to take any medication that could help.

  "Uncle Mel, this is Marin. My friend I talked to you about the other day. Marin, Uncle Mel." He smiles the smallest of smiles.

  "Nice to meet you, Miss Marin. Do you happen to have a last name? I've lived around these parts of Florida my whole life. Maybe I know your family."

  "Levine. But I'm not originally from here. Came here for college at CFU. My family is originally from Georgia."

  "Ah, I see. Well, no matter. It's still nice to meet you." He wobbles slowly over to his recliner and plops down on it. "So, what brings you two over here to this messy house of mine?"

  "Marin has so graciously volunteered to take me to get a new computer for the shop."

  "New computer? Pfft. There's nothing wrong with the one you have now. Why can’t you just use it?" He waves him off, and I decide to speak up. I haven't gotten a good read yet on Uncle Mel, so hopefully I'm not overstepping my bounds.

  "Actually, sir—"

  "Mel, or Uncle Mel. You don't need to call me sir, sweetheart."

  "Um, OK. Mel, the computer in the office is pretty old. There really isn't anything I can show Dalton that can help him run the garage—at least the business side of it—more smoothly on that computer. He needs something that some of the new programs that would be advantageous to his business."

  He studies me intensely for a minute and then sighs. "Yeah, you're probably right. Dot bought that thing back when Dalton was still tightening the screws on his tricycle. Never did use the damn thing much.” He motions to the hallway. “Dalton, go grab the money bag out of my room."

  Dalton heads back down the hallway to the bedroom leaving me with his uncle.

  Within a few seconds, Dalton returns, money bag in hand. He holds it out to Uncle Mel and reaches in to pull out a credit card. "Here you go, boy. It's about time you take over the money too, especially since you'll have you a new fancy machine to do everything on. And we did have a deal anyway. Take over everything completely in exchange for—"

  Dalton cuts him off and Uncle Mel looks irritated but doesn’t continue with what he was saying.

  "OK. Whatever you say. I know what we discussed." He turns to me then. "You ready?" I'm not sure what Uncle Mel was getting ready to say, but Dalton obviously doesn't want me to know. I'm totally OK with that, though; I don't need to know his personal business to help him out.

  "Yes. I'm ready."

  We walk out and toward the cars. I'm assuming that we are going to take my car but he walks over to an older, somewhat falling apart Bronco.

  "Hop in," he says as he opens the passenger door for me.

  I can't help but ask, "Are you sure this thing is safe?"

  "Ha Ha. Very funny. I can assure you she is very safe. She just isn't very pretty … yet." He pats the dash and winks before shutting the door.

  I have to admit this is a pretty cool vehicle. It has personality unlike my little gas efficient car. Which happens to be the main reason I bought it. You know, care about the environment and all that jazz.

  Dalton jumps in the driver’s side and starts it up. "So lead the way," he says.

  Aside from my directions, our trip to the store is spent enveloped in an awkward silence. I feel his eyes glance in my direction several times, but I'm too caught up in what exactly I should be feeling right now to make any small talk.

  As we pull into the parking lot of the office supply store that is closest to his garage, I pull out my phone and shoot Amelia a quick text.

  Me: Shopping for a new computer for Daltons garage. Talk later.

  Amelia: Like...together?

  Me: Duh! Xoxoxo

  Amelia: ????

  I roll my eyes and stuff the phone back in my purse. I will deal with her overprotectiveness later tonight. Glancing across the truck, I see Dalton staring at me with worry sketched across his jaw.

  "Everything OK?" he asks.

  "Yeah. Just checking in with Amelia. She's a bit on the extreme side of overprotective, especially since the attack." He nods and jumps out quickly, and I follow suit and jump out of my side before he has a chance to make his way around.

  As we walk into the store, I bring up the attack. I haven't been able to shake what was on the news. "So, about the attack. Did you by chance speak with the police?" He looks down at me so I continue on, "It's just, there was something on the news and the time and place lined up with what happened to me. They stated a witness gave a description. I know I didn't give much of a description so …" I trail off as he continues to stare at me.

  "Yeah, I did. I talked to the detective and told him everything. But you should probably know that I don't have the best reputation with the police, well, in the past anyway, so I don't know how much of what I told them helped." He doesn't let me respond and walks into the store. I remember him telling me that he didn’t have the best past, but I didn’t think it would have involved anything with police. But who am I to judge? We all make mistakes and have skeletons in our closet.

  Maybe I shouldn't have brought up the attack. He seems to be unc
omfortable talking about it so I decide to change subjects and focus on why we are here.

  Standing inside, he looks around, like he has never seen an office supply store before.

  "OK, let's find you a computer!"

  "Yeah, let's get this over with."

  Lord, what have I gotten myself into.

  Chapter Eight

  Dalton

  Dear God, what have I gotten myself into?

  The more time I'm spending with this woman is proving to me that it's going to be harder when she realizes the type of person I am and leaves. But, I'm selfish. So I'm going to spend as much time with her as she will let me. She has some kind of magnetic pull. As soon as she walks into a room, everyone seems drawn to her.

  Even in an office supply store, all heads are turned her way.

  I follow her through the store like a dog on a leash, and I can't help but check her out a little bit as she walks. The way her hips sway and the way her hair bounces when she walks—it might be short, but it’s perfect for her. She could put any man in a trance. If I wasn't trying so hard to be a better human being, there is no doubt that I would have tried to sleep with her already. Yes, even considering that I saved her from a probable rape.

  That's just the guy I was. I know it's wrong. I knew then it was wrong, too. The difference is that now I care and then I didn't. Well, at least, I think I care.

  "So, what exactly are we looking for here?" I ask, because I honestly have no clue. Thank god she is with me—who knows what I would end up taking home if she wasn't here.

  "Well, it depends on what you want to accomplish. Do you want to take your work home with you?" She looks up at me and smiles. "Or do you want to only work in the office in garage?"

  Huh? I guess I never thought about it that way. "What do you mean take it home? Like, be able to work on the computer in my apartment?"

  "That's exactly what I mean. And do you have wireless internet?"

  "Yes, we have that. My uncle is a bit addicted to his internet games." She laughs like she knows exactly what I'm talking about. Her laugh makes me want to learn more about her.

  It makes me want to place small kisses down her neck to possibly make her laugh more.

  As we continue to browse the computers, I decide to try to make small talk. I know my coldness sometimes may confuse her but I don't want her to see that side of me and I never really know what to say to her. I want her to like me, as odd as that may sound.

  Geez, I don't think I have ever wanted someone to like me. Never cared really what anyone thought. And what's weird is, I don't want her to like me so I can sleep with her. I want her to genuinely like me.

  "So, Marin, you told Uncle Mel that you grew up in Georgia. Is your family still there?" She turns from the computer she is playing around with, a sad smile on her lips.

  "No. I have no family. My parents passed away when I was twelve; they were in a car accident. My grandma raised me. She passed away when I was twenty-one. My mom and dad were only children, and my dad's parents passed away before I was even born, and my mom's dad passed away when I was very young. I don’t even remember him really. It was me and my grandma for a long time.

  "Man, I'm so sorry." Way to bring up the wrong subject, Dalton.

  "It's OK. It's been a long time since my parents passed away. I don't want to say I'm over it but, I've moved on and have tried to be happy for them. I do miss them at times, though. Especially my mom." She turns back to the computers and walks down the aisle to a different model. "How about you? How did you end up under your Uncle Mel's wing? Who, by the way, is a very interesting fellow."

  Not really sure how to answer, I shrug at first. After a few seconds, I decide that telling her about my parents won't hurt anything. They aren't good people. Kind of like me, but she doesn’t need to know that part.

  "My mom left when I was ten." I turn and start messing around with one of the laptops. "Uncle Mel and Aunt Dot took me in when my dad got sent to prison not long after she left." Afraid to even look up and make eye contact with her, I decide to continue on. "They looked for my mom for a while, but never found her. Grams seems to think she died. Probably from a drug overdose."

  Taking my chances, I glance over at her. Thinking I will see horror and disgust in her eyes. But what I see shocks me to the core. It's compassion and maybe a touch of worry. "Wow. I'm really sorry, Dalton. It sounds to me like we have some pretty broken pasts, huh?"

  "You don't know the half of it," I mumble under my breath. She turns back to the computers again. "So, which one of these contraptions do you think would work for me?" I ask, deciding to change the subject to something safer, something neutral.

  She taps her finger on her chin in deep thought. It's kind of cute, and I can't help but smile a little. This woman can easily be my best and worst downfall if I let her in.

  "Honestly, any of these three would work." She points to the black, silver, and dark-grey laptops directly in front of her.

  "How about you pick the one that is the best price and that you think will be the easiest one for me to use?" She laughs and looks over the prices of all three.

  Clicks the keys on them all for a moment more, and then proudly announces: "This one!" She points to the dark-grey one excitedly.

  "OK, works for me." We wait for the customer service clerk to unlock the case that holds the actual boxes containing the laptops. Once I have it in my hands, I figure we are ready to go, but Marin has other plans.

  "I need to grab the software you are going to need and a few office supplies for you." She walks around corner and I wonder if I should follow her or wait up front. In the end, I decide to follow her.

  Walking in the direction she took off in, I find her bent over looking on a bottom shelf at different packages of paper. It's paper, for Christ’s sake, why are there so many kinds? I notice the way her brows are pulled together in deep thought, her finger once again tapping her chin. I have no control over my eyes as they take in her body slowly. Shaking my head and clearing my throat, I try to rid the not so appropriate thoughts out of my brain when I look at her.

  She turns her head and straightens up as she hears me clear my throat. "I think I have everything we need." She smiles and bends back over to pick up a stack of items off the floor. As she does this, her shirt droops just enough that I can see down into it. I swiftly turn around and head around the corner to gain my composure.

  I have never reacted this way to a woman before. Sure, women have turned me on before but never just by their presence and definitely never in an office supply store.

  She approaches behind me, right as I take one last deep breath in.

  "You OK?"

  "Um, yeah. You ready?" I somehow croak out.

  She looks down at everything in her hands, and I reach over and start taking things from her. She doesn't need to carry all this crap when I can do it.

  "Thanks, I think we have everything."

  Waiting in the short line in silence, I take notice to how tiny she really is. She easily only comes to the bottom of my chest. "How tall are you, exactly?" I blurt out, not able to stop the thoughts in my head from making themselves known. She seems so tiny and frail. Like, if I laid a hand, or hell, my body on her, she would break.

  She turns and looks over her shoulder at me. "I'm exactly five feet tall. Yes, I know I'm short." She looks me up and down. "Exactly how tall are you?" she asks with a quirk of her eyebrow.

  "Hmm. I guess around 6'4"." She smiles and turns back around. The rest of our time is spent making small talk about the bookstore or the weather. We stop and grab some Chinese food for lunch and take it back to the garage with us to eat while she sets everything up.

  When we make it back to the garage, she gets to work in the office. She gets the internet set up as she shovels in pork fried rice. She starts a quick spreadsheet for me to keep track of the customers for now until I decide what all I am going to need other than that.

  "So, I guess. I should be going." She
stands and brushes off her jeans. "I'm actually surprised that Amelia and Joey haven't sent a search party out for me yet."

  Glancing behind me at the clock I notice that it's four o'clock. "Holy shit. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take up so much of your day."

  She places her dainty hand on my arm, and it's warm, and I want nothing more than to feel the rest of her warmth. "It's OK, Dalton. I'm glad I could help, and I really enjoyed myself today. Thank you."

  Grabbing her giant bag that has to weigh a ton, she walks over to the door. I can tell she isn't sure what to say. "Well, I guess I'll see you around, right?"

  I shove my hands in my jeans pockets because I don't know what else to do with them. "Definitely." She nods and walks out of the office, closing the door behind her.

  As much as my body wants to stop her, I can't get my mouth to form the words. But I need to stop her. If I don't try, I will regret it. Right?

  Chapter Nine

  Marin

  I thought he was going to stop me. I could see something in his eyes. But it's for the best. Even if he would have, this can never be more than a casual friendship. I could never give my heart away again, well, what's left of it anyway.

  Picking up my phone I shoot Amelia a quick text.

  Me: Leaving now. See you in a few.

  Amelia: It's about damn time. I was about to call the police.

  Sometimes, she drives me crazy so I send her an eye roll emoji. She has always been a bit on the dramatic side. I back out and head back down the driveway and see Uncle Mel outside making his way down the driveway in the direction of the garage. Most likely on his way to make sure everything is in order.

  As I am stopped at the stop sign at the end of the road, I glance over at the passenger seat where I threw my phone and notice it lit up. I grab it quickly and see that Dalton has texted.

  Dalton: Can I call you later?

  Biting my lip, I contemplate how to respond. Before I can second guess myself, I type out a simple: yes.