by Andrew Grey
“Who says?” Dean countered.
“James. He was my teacher and mentor, and he taught me that I might be blind, but my life didn’t stop. I have to figure out what I want and then find a way to get it. I know my way around my entire neighborhood, and I can even go to the local store on my own. The lady in there is very nice and really helpful. I learned how to work with Scott after he lost his hearing, and I understand now that I can do just about anything I put my mind to. Yes, I have limitations, but I know what they are. My mom doesn’t agree with me, but it’s not her life—it’s mine.” Lee reached out and located where Dean stood. “You have to determine where your limitations are and what it is that you want.” Lee turned and began walking back the way they’d come. In his head, there was a map that his mind had created as they’d hiked. Lee walked slowly, using sounds as indicators, like the opening and closing of the visitor center door, the ducks and geese, even the way the area around him rustled in the breeze.
“Lee,” Dean called, coming up behind him.
“Yes, Dean?” Lee turned around.
“I’ve always known what I wanted, but I don’t know if I deserve it.” Dean paused next to him, breathing deeply and covered with sweat that scented the air. “But yes, I have to let you make up your mind.”
Lee giggled. “You make yourself sound like some sort of booby prize.”
“Maybe I am.” Dean sounded a little defeated.
“But you’re my booby prize,” Lee said with what he hoped was a wry grin. He might have looked silly, but the way Dean tugged him into his arms, laughing deeply, was heartening. “So I take it you’ll be my booby prize?”
“Whatever you want, sweetheart. I’ll try to be whatever you want and whatever you need.”
“Just be yourself. I suspect you tried so hard to be what Chuck wanted that you lost yourself. It’s easy to do. I lost who I was for a long time,” Lee explained, and Dean stilled as he held him. “When I couldn’t see anymore, I shifted from being Lee to being the blind guy. I had to figure out how I was going to be myself again. Maybe that’s what you need to do. Stop being the guy who Chuck hurt and just be Dean again. Then maybe you’ll be happy.”
Dean held him tighter, breathing deeply, and Lee wondered if he’d said the right thing. He hoped he hadn’t been stupid, but what he’d said made sense to him. Maybe it would make sense to Dean.
“Now it’s my turn to ask how you got to be so smart.”
“My mom says that we’re never given more than we can handle. I think that’s a bunch of BS, but maybe in this case it’s true. I had to learn how to live my life as a blind person. That was a huge change, which meant I had to start over in a lot of ways. I don’t read the same way, and I can’t get around the same way I used to. The way I make a living is different. I have to work with someone and probably always will. But I have talents and I can contribute professionally and personally. I deserve to be loved and cared for, the same as anyone else.” He patted Dean’s cheek. “You deserve the same thing. Don’t let Chuck win, just like I didn’t let the blindness win.” That was all he had to say. The rest was up to Dean and what he truly wanted.
“Are you sure about this?” Dean asked.
Lee’s laugh turned to a cough. “I’m rarely sure of anything. Stuff can change so quickly. But yes, I want to give things a try with you. But I should warn you—I think my mom is going to freak when she meets you.”
“Because of my age?”
“Yeah. She was already asking a bunch of questions before you picked me up.” And he had little doubt she was going to ask a lot more.
Okay.” Dean didn’t move away, and Lee liked being held by him. “Then maybe we should tackle this head-on. We could arrange for the four of us to have dinner or something.”
Lee thought that was a great idea and was about to tell Dean so when his phone rang with Brent’s ringtone. “Hi,” he said brightly.
“Is there any way you can come to the shop?” Brent asked.
“I think so, why?” Lee asked, knowing something was wrong.
“We closed up, and I realized I forgot something. When I came back, I found your toolbox at the bottom of the work pit. I’m sure someone pushed it in.”
“No…,” Lee said softly. His hand shook.
“What is it?” Dean asked, but Lee couldn’t answer. He handed the phone to Dean, wishing he could disappear and make this go away. “Brent. … Yes, he’s with me. … Okay, we’ll be right over.” Dean gave him back the phone. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Lee got into the car once they reached it and waited for Dean to get in, crossing his arms over his chest. He could feel himself pulling inward. Who would do this to him? Lee always helped when asked and wasn’t selfish or mean. Maybe the fact that he didn’t loan his tools out because he couldn’t keep track of them bothered some of the guys, but still, this was going too far.
“We’ll see what’s going on and figure it out.” Dean patted his leg.
“Somebody messed up my tools before. Scott helped me put them back.” This was going to be a lot worse. It wasn’t likely the tools would be broken, but the case was going to be a mess—maybe it wouldn’t even be usable anymore. Then he’d have to buy another one, and they were expensive. He kept his mind on practical matters because the other paths were darker and hurt a lot more.
“We’ll figure this out.” Dean drove quickly, and Lee sat still and quiet, not wanting to think about why someone hated him. He wanted to think that both incidents were accidental, but if things had been fine when Brent left, that meant that someone had sneaked into the garage after closing and that they had meant to do what they’d done.
Dean turned and pulled to a stop. Lee got out of the car and haltingly found his way to the door. He knocked, and a few seconds later, the latch clicked and Brent pulled the garage door open.
“I’m sorry, Lee. I called Randy and Cliff—they live closest—and they helped me get it out. The box is banged up, but it looks like the drawers will still slide.” He sounded as upset as Lee felt.
“I have the key to unlock it,” Lee said, and Brent guided him to the box. It had been a present from Scott last year for his birthday, and it hurt that someone had taken their anger out on it. Lee popped the lock open and moved each of the drawers. They did indeed open, but Lee was going to have to take everything out and place the tools back in their homes so he could find things again.
A scraping sound startled him. “We have a table right here,” Brent told him. “We’ll lay things out on it and put the sets back together. You can place things back where they go.” And just like that, Brent and Dean got to work helping him.
“Where are Randy and Cliff?” Lee asked.
“They said they had things to do,” Brent said, his words terse and suspicious.
“What are you thinking?” Dean asked.
“That maybe it was those two idiots who did this in the first place. I can’t prove anything, but it seems like something those two would do,” Brent snapped.
“Lee, give us a minute to get everything out for you, and then we’ll clean up the box so you can put things back where you want them.”
“I can do it,” Lee said, trying to make sense of all this.
“Let us help you,” Dean said, and Lee nodded. The metal drawers opened with a rolling clang, and the guys got all the tools out, one drawer at the time, and handed them to him. By feel, Lee placed the tools back in the box, each in its place.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
“Of course,” Dean said, giving him a socket set.
“I think one of those guys might have a key to the garage. I called a locksmith, and all the locks are being changed. He’ll be here in an hour.”
Lee tried to feel relieved, but all that meant was that whoever had done this had broken into the garage just to cause him hurt. Lee fumbled his grip, and the wrench in his hand clanged to the floor. Dean retrieved it for him. “Why would they do that?”
“I don’t kn
ow. But I intend to find out,” Brent said. “I already called Trevor. He was supposed to spend Monday at the Glendale garage, but he’s going to be here. He’ll get to the bottom of things.”
They emptied the last drawer, and Lee finished putting everything away. Then he locked up the toolbox.
“I’m going to put it back in place. I also found some chain. We’ll attach to the wall so it can’t be pushed over or moved. At least your things will stay where they are supposed to be.”
“You shouldn’t have to do that,” Lee said.
“No, I shouldn’t. But I’ll be damned if anyone is going to intimidate me or my workers. This is just as big an attack on me as it is on you, and neither of us is going to take it lying down.” Brent had never hugged him before, but he did then. “You’re a dang good person and a fine mechanic—period. If someone is jealous of that, then we’re going to deal with it. And there will be consequences for them.” He released Lee, and Dean put an arm around his shoulders.
“I’m sorry this happened.” Dean comforted him as Lee tried to figure this whole thing out and came up short.
“You two go on. I’m going to wait for the locksmith and then ensure this place is sealed up tight.” Brent held the door, and Dean guided him to the car. Normally Lee wouldn’t need help—the area around the garage was very familiar—but he was shaken up and his sense of direction a little muddled.
“I was never mean to anyone,” Lee said quietly. “Even when some of the guys talked about me as if I was helpless, I let it go.”
“Who said things?” Dean snapped.
“Randy sometimes, as well as Cliff, and a guy named Billy. They’re all friends, but they follow Randy’s lead.” Lee knitted his fingers together. “But I don’t understand. I even help them sometimes, especially when they have a hard case. I listened to an engine last week and told Randy what was wrong right away so he could fix it.” Lee shrugged. “I was nice to him.”
“Maybe Randy thought you were showing him up?” Dean asked.
“But I help everyone. And I ask for their help too.” Scott got sick sometimes, and Lee worked with everyone, though not as well as he did with Scott. “I thought we were one big family.” Maybe that was his problem. It was obvious not everyone felt the same way.
“I wish I could help. In a week or so, you’ll be working part of the time with me,” Dean said as he continued driving. Lee just sat, turned around enough that he had no idea where they were. “Do you know if any of them wanted to work on the restoration side of the business?”
“I don’t think so. They grumble a lot, and I think Randy is looking for another job. He didn’t mind working for Trevor, but I think it bothers him that there are so many gay people in the garage now. Like I said, he talks, and I don’t think he remembers a lot of the time that I can hear him. But I never said anything. I figured that people deserve their privacy, and I didn’t want to tell tales.” Maybe he should have told Trevor or Brent what those guys were saying. “I thought they were all talk.”
“Well, Trevor will get to the bottom of it,” Dean told him.
“How bad was the box, really?” Lee asked.
“It was pretty dented and scraped. But you probably guessed that. Those are built strong, so it will be usable.” At least Dean was honest. “It’s too bad that some guys can’t leave others alone.” Dean sighed. “I keep wondering what they’re hoping to get out of this kind of behavior. They probably think they’re smart enough that they won’t be found out. But Trevor is a bulldog when it comes to this kind of thing.”
“I hope so, because I want to feel safe when I’m at work.” Lee clenched his hands together. “What if they try to push me into one of the pits?” He couldn’t help shaking. “All it would take is a bump at the right time, and I could lose my balance. I can’t hold on to Scott or someone else all day long.” Up until that moment, he hadn’t thought of the kind of danger he could be in. “Maybe I should call Trevor and tell him that I can’t work there anymore.”
Just saying those words nearly killed him. His work was social, but it was also the way he could make a contribution to the world. Lee was productive, and his job allowed him to be self-sufficient. He had a ways to go before that happened, but he had to be able to work if he was going to have any chance of that.
“What do I do?” Lee heard his own voice break.
“Let Trevor take action. And make sure Scott knows what happened, because I just got you and nothing better happen to you.” Dean continued driving, and the car sped up and then slowed back down. “Maybe I’ll talk to Trevor about having some of my projects moved into one of the bays there. That way I’ll be working there too.”
“Dean….”
“I mean it. I’m not going to let you get hurt.”
“There isn’t enough space. During the week, a second shift comes in to cover all the work…. The demand is pretty heavy. Trevor expanded, and it still isn’t enough. I suspect that he might even use some of the bays at the new place for simple body and paint work so he can reclaim space in the shop.” Lee took a deep breath. “I’m just going to have to be careful.”
Dean didn’t argue with him, but Lee suspected that Dean and Trevor would be having a conversation about this. Dean didn’t seem like the kind of guy who was going to let this drop. Lee thought that maybe he should be upset, but he liked that Dean was willing to stand up for him.
The car made a turn and then slowly came to a stop. “Where are we?”
“I had planned to bring you back to my place to show you the things I’m working on and to let you get a feel for the Cobra, but that doesn’t seem like such a good idea anymore. So instead, I brought you to a place that always makes me feel better when I’m upset. Ice cream and chocolate.”
Lee actually smiled. “Yeah, I think that stuff is the cure for danged near everything.” He was too upset at the moment to go home. His mom would sense that something was wrong, and she could be a bulldog with a bone when she thought she needed to be. This situation was his to deal with, not his mother’s.
Chapter 5
LEE WAS so careful as he ate. He licked his spoon and kept his hand around the lip of his dish so the ice cream stayed where he wanted it. It was a shame that Lee was so worried about how he looked to others, though Dean did see a few people at other tables looking their way. He stared back, and most of them had the decency to turn away.
“Thank you,” Lee said as he finished the last of his dessert. “I couldn’t go home right away.”
“You know your mom only wants to protect you.”
“Yeah….” Lee set his cup on the table and put his spoon in it, then pushed it away. “She wants to protect me to the point that she’d roll me in bubble wrap and keep me in the house all the time.”
Dean didn’t believe that, at least not completely. He figured Lee’s mom didn’t want him to get hurt. “Sometimes parents can hold on a little too tight, but it only means that they care about you, right?”
“Yeah. She loves me and will do anything for me. Sometimes she does too much, though.”
Dean smiled, even though Lee couldn’t see it. “Consider yourself lucky. My mom and dad, they had their own thing. They met in the Peace Corps working in a village in Africa. Mom trained as an engineer, and my dad worked on all the machines and tractors in the village. To hear them tell it, Mom tried to engineer my father right off the continent. They immediately hated each other. My mom can be a force of nature, and my father can be as stubborn as any mule. They butted heads, fought, and argued until they apparently fell in love. They still argue with each other, but now it’s more of a game than anything else.
“I think that Peace Corps experience stayed with them. After they got back, Dad spent a lot of his free time with the kids in poorer neighborhoods, teaching them skills to help them make a living. Mom was an advocate for better living conditions, and when the city was talking about improvements, she made sure that their little, mostly forgotten area got its share of the res
ources. They did so much good and spent a lot of their resources and time helping the community.”
“I see,” Lee said, taking his hand.
“They had community meetings, petition drives, meetings to discuss grants, and God knows what else. Mom and Dad were always in the thick of it, driven to make the world a better place.” Dean shrugged. “But they didn’t give much thought as to how things worked out for me.” He paused. “I need to explain. On Christmas morning when I was six, I woke up and went to the living room. My stocking was on the mantle, and there was a piece of paper in it. I remember racing up to it because I was sure that it was a note from Santa, telling me where the bicycle was that I had asked for that year. Instead, it was a letter telling me that I was such a wonderful boy for being willing to donate my gifts to children who needed them.”
Lee gasped. “No presents at all? You were six.” Lee’s mouth hung open in near shock, which was nothing compared to how Dean’s six-year-old self had felt at the time.
That was his life. “There were two boxes under the tiny tree that one of Dad’s customers had given him. One was a shirt and the other was a pair of pants and some socks. They had been sent by my grandparents. There was nothing from Santa and nothing from my mom and dad. That was it.” Dean shook his head. “But do you want to know the kicker? We were serving dinner down at the Salvation Army. Mom and Dad trooped me down there, where I got to watch Santa Claus give presents to all the other kids. And sure enough, there was the bike that I had wanted. Santa gave it to another little boy.” Dean gripped his cup so tightly, it collapsed, sending water spilling all over his hands. He grabbed napkins to wipe up the mess.
“Was that your bike?” Lee asked.
“Yes. My dad stood next to me as I watched another little boy grin and roll my bike out of the room. ‘Now don’t you feel better knowing that you made someone else happy?’ my dad asked, and patted me on the shoulder. He had bought the bike I wanted but gave it away to someone else.” Dean’s head hurt. “They did that for years. It got so I asked for toys and things I didn’t want, just so I wouldn’t have to see them being given away to someone else.”