by M. Mabie
“Okay. I’ll pull it, but I just thought it was for boys.”
Admittedly, the thought of this sweet little girl rushing into a burning building didn’t sit well inside me, but even more, I hated the thought that she just assumed she couldn’t do something because she was a female.
That was dead wrong.
“Pull here.” I held the line with my finger and she yanked the horn to life on her first try.
It startled her, and then she giggled. “That’s so loud.” She leaned over and I moved out of the way just a bit. “Mom, did you hear how loud that was? Girls can pull the horn too.”
“I told you,” Faith called from outside the rig.
“The blue switch over there turns on the lights.”
Clapping first, she held her finger beside it, confirming with me. Her eyebrows high, smile wide.
“Yep. Flip it up.”
She tried to do it with one finger, but then enlisted the rest of her hand when she needed more elbow grease.
“Got it,” she said, and the lights reflected off the side of the massive white building before us, but they weren’t too bright.
“You can see them better at night,” I said.
“Yeah, it’s daytime.”
I looked down and pointed to the button on the floorboard. “This one down here is the siren.”
She slid down the seat and stretched her leg as far as she could. “You step on it?”
I nodded. “Do you know why we use lights and sirens?”
She stomped on it, not expecting my question. It startled her and she yelped, then let off. “You use it to tell people their house is on fire. To tell them to get out.”
A pretty good guess.
“We use it so that other vehicles and people know we’re near. We have to get to emergencies as fast as we can, but we don’t want to cause another accident. The lights and sirens help us make sure everyone stays safe.”
“My mom honks her horn when people are going too damn slow.”
Faith didn’t miss a beat. “Delaney! What did I say about that?”
Her small palm slapped across her mouth, and she said, “Whoops,” behind her fingers. Then she quietly tittered.
I tried to help the situation. “Oops. We can’t say that.”
She flipped her hand up like it was on a hinge but didn’t remove it from her face and whispered, “You can, but I can’t. Grown-ups can say bad words. Like Big D. He says he’s trying not to, but he can’t help it.”
“You can’t say what we say, but you can say Delta instead.”
She looked at me like I was nuts.
“In the Air Force, when I wanted to say something but didn’t want to say the real words, I could use other words that everyone knew. If they started with the same letter.”
She still didn’t get it.
“Delta stars with D too.” She squinted, thinking, deciding if I was full of sierra. “You could say they were driving too delta slow.”
It started to click and she tried it out. “Delta?”
“Delta,” I answered. “Flip the lights off, please.”
She spun, following my orders and did as I asked. “Aaron, let’s get out of this delta truck.”
Laughing, I wondered if I’d made a huge mistake. “Still try not to say it, if you can.”
I stepped back and she climbed down onto the floorboard. With my feet on the drive, I reached up to help her out. Her arms reached out for me, and thankfully I caught her when she surprised me with a jump. “Catch me,” she requested after she decided to fly.
Snatching her from the air, I set her safely on the ground.
“Are you ready to go?” Faith asked. “Tell Aaron thank you.”
“Thanks, Aaron. Thanks, Smokie.” She hugged the white and black dog around the neck. “I gotta go, boy.”
“You’re welcome,” I replied. “From both of us.”
While Delaney and my dog said their goodbyes, Faith touched my arm off to the side. Her warm fingers ran along my bicep. “And thanks for telling her she can be a firefighter ... and for everything else.” Her hand was too soon gone, but the sensation of her touch lingered, warm.
“No problem.”
Faith leaned in against my shoulder. Quietly, she added, “If you’re off later, come by Sally’s and I’ll buy you a beer.” She looked up at me all eyes and lashes, and my mouth was too close to hers for my own good.
“Okay,” I agreed.
“Come on, Madame. We need to go take that nap.” Without much protest, Delaney stood.
“Bye,” they said in unison as they strolled across the pavement, both looking back at Smokie and me and waving one last time.
I was going for it.
What did I have to lose?
More importantly, what did I have to gain?
Chapter Six
FAITH
Abbey: What are you doing? Is he there yet?
Me: Stocking the cooler. He’s not coming. We’re slow. This night is dragging ass.
Emma: Shut up. He’s coming.
Abbey: He comes in all the time. He’ll be there. He’s probably still working. Maybe there was a fire.
I put my phone down and shuffled another case of beer into the chest. The bottles clanked as I moved the ones in the back to the front.
Sally’s wasn’t busy and wasn’t going to be. When the other bar in town had a band, we were typically dead. The Tap had the Joey Settles Band, a local favorite, who we often booked on the weekends. It would have been fun to go, maybe hang out with people who were my age—in real life—but I was working. At least when the band was at Sally’s, I could still be where everyone else was.
Besides, online friends, who were the only real friends I had, couldn’t dance with me anyway. However, in a jam, they were great for ladies’ room chats.
I’d have a night out eventually. Sometime between then and when I was fifty.
It was already after nine, and the only people I had were a table of older town guys playing cards, a couple in the corner playing the new slot machines, and a pair of girls at the bar.
I didn’t know the young women, and they hadn’t looked twenty-one to me, but their IDs said otherwise. The older I got, the younger everyone else looked. The taller girl cried over an ex-boyfriend they’d followed into Wynne for the band. Evidently, he didn’t mind showing off his new girlfriend on the dance floor at the bar across town. He sounded a lot like Chad or even Abbey’s on-again, off-again boyfriend Scott.
The old saying, “That’s the fuckin’ you get for the fuckin’ you got,” sang through my head.
Perhaps it was the vibe I was picking up from them, but I was losing hope that Aaron would show up. Normally, when he came in, he was there by nine. That gave him plenty of time to drink his three beers.
In a town that small, you got to know what everyone drank, and how much. Aaron’s drinking habits were odd, but I respected how he never overdrank, never got drunk. The way he never lost control was so appealing.
Chad would drink either none or thirty beers at a time. There’d never been any in between, and his addictions didn’t stop with alcohol. I’d hated when he’d stumble into the trailer, knocking over things and bumping into pictures I’d hung on the walls. The whole place would rock on its block foundation as he wrecked it on his way to bed.
Our whole relationship—if you’d call it that—had been shaky too.
Aaron, on the other hand, was responsible. He always had been.
Chad’s responsibility ended at making sure his child support money was always in my account at the same time every month. Honestly, it was some kind of miracle that he paid at all, and I rarely touched the money. To me, it was Delaney’s. So I only dipped into it when something was important to her. Something she’d otherwise miss out on because she only had me—her single parent mother.
I’d bought her an iPad for her birthday after noticing other kids with them. Enrolled her in karate over the winter when she’d asked. Other tha
n that, I built her a stash she could use later for a car or party dress that was out of my reach. Things I’d missed out on, even though my mother had done her very best.
Chad never asked for visitation, and his family was nice, but they didn’t ask to spend time with Delaney either. To my knowledge, Chad had never even seen her. And, since he wasn’t there to protest the day she was born, I gave Delaney my last name. Simpson. At least, I shared a name with someone.
He didn’t want her.
He didn’t want me.
We didn’t want his name.
I had no regrets about it. Good riddance.
“Would you girls like two more?” I asked, running a damp cloth along the bar top at the far end where the young ladies commiserated. They looked at each other and then at their phones.
“Yeah,” the supportive friend answered. “Two more.”
I took their empty glasses, placed the pair in the sink, and then replaced them with fresh ones. Obviously, I was making myself more work, but I needed something to kill the endless time.
Two more vodka and cranberries made, I set them on the empty coasters. They had a tab going, which I’d only allowed because we weren’t busy, so I didn’t even mention money. After adding two more tick marks to their ticket, I wandered over to the table of men. Shoving one end of the rag in my back pocket, I picked up a few of their empties.
“Who’s winning?”
“They’re all cheaters, Faith,” Dub accused. “Taking my money. Wasting my time. Maybe I should get them drunk. That’s when I play best.”
I laughed. Dub was a shithead, but like most shitheads, he didn’t mean any harm.
The other three men threw back the last of their drinks, wanting to make sure they didn’t miss the next round of cold ones while I was there. They looked like old, wrinkly frat guys chugging beer. In reality, they were just a mechanic, a couple of farmers, and an auctioneer with nothing better to do.
“So shots?” I proposed. One wasn’t going to hurt them, and they’d never caused trouble before. However, I did have to see their wives in town, so I wouldn’t be pushing hard liquor at them all night.
“What do you say?” Dub looked at his pal but then answered for them. “A round of beers and four shots of Southern. To hell with it. I’d rather they piss my money down the john than take it home.”
His older brother Carl slapped the deck onto the table and slid it over to Dub. “If you were better at Euchre you wouldn’t have this problem.”
With the deck in his hand, Dub tapped the long edges against the green felt. “What do you know?”
From under his faded John Deere ball cap, Carl asked, “You got any fresh popcorn back there?”
It wasn’t a bad idea, especially if they were doing a shot. “I’ll make some. Let me get your drinks, and then I’ll get on it.”
That pleased the table and they went right back to playing.
I pulled a tray out from beneath the counter, and then reached into the cooler for the two Coors and two Buds. After setting four shots on the tray, I poured them full of Southern Comfort. Yuck.
The old wooden floor creaked as I headed back to them, and I looked up as headlights pulled in out front. A flutter bounced around my stomach and my chest tightened, hoping it was him.
I passed the drinks but kept one eye on the door.
“To Dub’s money,” Carl toasted. All four men downed their liquor and as I collected the glasses, Aaron walked in.
Jeans. Work boots. T-shirt, tight in all the right places and loose in all the others. The brightness of the white tee made his skin look even tanner—if that was possible. He looked showered and clean, comfortable and calm.
His eyes roamed the room and stopped when they got to mine. He held them there for a few seconds, and then scanned the bar, seeing that his normal spot was taken by the girls.
“I’ll bring over the popcorn when it’s done, fellas.”
I didn’t have time to read what I’d missed in the chat thread, but I had to tell someone. In all caps. Exclamation mark. He was there.
Me: HE JUST WALKED IN!
Aaron took a seat in front of me at the center of the bar as I added the empty shot glasses to the sink under the countertop between us.
Jesus, being around him could be so frustrating—sexually—but I didn’t want him to leave. My friends had told me to grow some balls, and finally a pair began to sprout. Flirting wouldn’t hurt, and I desperately needed a thrill.
“First one’s on me,” I reminded him, leaning my hip against the stainless basin.
He cleared his throat. “Free beer always tastes better.”
“High Life?” He nodded.
I bent to get one out of the chest, noticed the green light flashing on my phone, popped the top off with my opener, and set it on a salty napkin between his outstretched hands.
They were huge. Working man hands. Rough and strong.
Fishing a few bucks out of my tip jar, I threw them in the register.
After a sip, he adjusted on the stool to lean over the bar a little more. “Slow night?”
I looked around—hello, Mr. Obvious—and gave him a half grin. “Yeah, I’m surprised you didn’t go watch the band like everyone else. Hell, Sally’s even down there.”
“Nah. I’ve seen them enough.” He took a second drink, a long one, tipping his head back. I studied the muscles in his neck and his Adam’s apple, lost for a second, gawking at his manliness. His tongue snuck out and licked his lip, and I looked down quickly when he caught me watching.
“That’s a good beer. Thank you.”
Didn’t I have something to do?
“How about that popcorn, Faith?” Dub hollered right on cue, jolting me out of my silly lapse.
“I know. I’m on it.” My knees felt rubbery as I stood there, not knowing what to say to Aaron. Judging by the candor in his eyes, I was pretty sure he was aware I’d been ogling him that time, but I couldn’t help myself. Seeing him be sweet to Delaney that afternoon had me feeling all sorts of wild new things and a few familiar old things, too.
Emma told me after the fish fry it was because I was badly in need of the “sauseeege.” Truthfully, I wouldn’t even know what to do with it if I got one. Then again, I doubt I’d turn it down either.
Excited and frazzled like a live wire, I shot away to start the popcorn machine. The oil wasn’t where it usually was, so I grabbed my phone and pushed through the swinging doors that lead to the stockroom and small kitchen area in the back.
Quickly, I opened the chat and skimmed. Basically, they were cheering me on.
Me: What do I do? I don’t even know what to say.
As I waited to see if anyone was there to reply, I found a new bottle of oil on the top shelf and reminded myself to leave Sally a note that I opened the last one.
I didn’t have time to wait, but I really needed help.
Without a quick response, I came back through the doors and knelt to collect the butter flavoring and seeds.
“She needs a man,” Carl exclaimed.
I couldn’t see them from where I squatted and wasn’t sure who the she was that they were talking about, so I just kept going, listening best I could.
“She doesn’t need a man,” Aaron firmly countered. “But, if she wants one, the line starts behind me.”
I spilled popcorn all over the floor and I almost fell on my ass. My pulse tripled.
Me: Fuck!
Did he just say that? Were they really talking about me?
No. No way.
I stuck my phone into my back pocket, ran my hands over the floor, gathered the scattered seeds into a pile and scooped them up. Praying for invisibility, I crawled across the wood on my knees and dumped them in the trash, making a less than stealthy rattling sound as they rolled to the bottom of the bag around dozens of empty bottles.
All eyes were on me as I stood and walked to the sink to wash my hands before trying to make the damn popcorn again.
“Did you
hear me?” Aaron asked.
I shrugged, unsure of what to say, and pumped soap onto my shaky hands.
“I said you don’t need a man.”
I swallowed, washed and rinsed. “I know.”
Over Aaron’s shoulder, I noticed the four men on the other side of the room staring. My eyes scanned them and then came back to his where he appeared to be waiting on me to answer something.
He was right. I didn’t need a man; I was used to being single, and I was fine. I made due.
Still, whatever was happening in my chest made me think otherwise.
Maybe I didn’t need a man to take care of me and share my burdens and do all of the things good men often do, like take out the trash or change windshield wiper blades or kill spiders. But, I had other needs, and they were becoming more difficult to push to the back of my mind.
Hastily, I turned back to the task at hand. Popcorn. The oil was surely hot. So I added the ingredients into the machine and closed the doors.
Down the bar, the girls were talking, doing their thing, and thankfully, Carl was dealing cards again. That just left Aaron and me and this charge in the air between us.
He downed the rest of his bottle. I’d never seen him drink that fast. So I wandered back to him since he needed his second beer. I opened a bottle and replaced his empty one with it.
“That’s why I’m always here, you know? Just in case.” He looked me in the eye and spoke so only I could hear him over the corn bursting at the end of the bar top. Or maybe that was the sound of my heart slapping around in my chest. One or the other.
“Just in case what?”
“In case you ever want me again. That’s why I’m here.” He paused, closed his blue eyes and took a ragged breath. “Faith, back then...”
Back then.
I’d been a silly schoolgirl when I told him how I felt. When I’d stupidly told him what I wanted and asked him to want it too. I couldn’t ask for those things anymore, but there was no denying the attraction was still there.
I finished for him when he struggled to continue. “That was a long time ago. Another life ago.”
I was embarrassed about how I’d confessed my feelings to him before he left. I had so many big ideas about how it could still work out for us. I’d told him I didn’t care that he was leaving. That I’d wait for him.