I ran inside and grabbed a bottle of water before returning to the porch and taking a seat next to Martha on the porch swing. She patted my leg, “So, tell me what’s got you all happy this morning.”

  I began, “Well, a few weeks ago I heard this grinding coming from the engine of my car.”

  She nodded silently as she continued to knit and listen, “So, I stopped into the repair shop that dad used to own. You know the one, on the other side of town next to the grocery store.”

  She nodded again. “Well, there was this big man working the counter and he was able to figure out that I was out of oil.”

  Martha paused and quipped, “Leo honey, how the heck did you let your car run out of oil?”

  I blushed, “I guess I was so busy I just forgot to check it.”

  Martha rolled her eyes, “Carry on.”

  “Well, when I asked if I owed him anything for fixing the problem he grinned and told me no, just drive safe cutie.”

  Martha met my gaze before shaking with excitement, “Oh my goodness! My heart! That is just so adorable!”

  I was all smiles as she asked, “Well, what happened today?”

  “I just saw him again on my morning run. He pulled up behind me and yelled cute shorts.”

  Martha gushed, “Oh Leo, that is too adorable. It sounds like he has a thing for you. You should totally find a reason to go back over there and get his number.”

  I hesitated, “Uh, I don’t know. I mean, I know he thinks I’m cute but I’m afraid if we get to know each other I’ll do something clumsy or stupid to run him off.”

  Martha waved in dismissal, “Pish posh. He could be the one, but you’ll never know if you don’t ask!”

  I met her gaze, “Do you really think I should go back up there?”

  She nodded. I rebutted, “But what if he was just flirting? You know how guys are; he might be married or something?”

  Martha frowned, “You’ll never know unless you ask. Now, I suggest after breakfast you take a ride over there and just talk to him; see if he’d like to go out to dinner or something. Ooh, or better yet, take him a chili dog! Mechanics love chili dogs!”

  Silence lingered between us for a moment as the porch swing gently swayed in the early spring breeze. I leaned back and basked in the feel of the cool air on my skin. I was going to do it, today I was going to see if there was something more between me and mechanic daddy beyond coy flirtations.

  Martha stood, gathered her knitting, and grunted, “I’m going to go scare us up some breakfast. Are you going to help or just sit here like a bump on a pickle?”

  I smiled and shook my head. Some of the little statements she used cracked me up. It was one of those sweet moments where I was lost in my thoughts and worrying about what would happen to me if something ever happened to her. This was the life I had come to know; busy days delivering people’s meals, then quiet moments on the porch with Martha, she always knew the perfect things to say to ease my mind or make me feel better.

  She fixes the best breakfasts; bacon and eggs, biscuits and gravy, and sometimes when she was feeling especially defiant of her doctor’s orders she’d fix sausage patties, even though her doctor told her they were bad for her aging heart. I usually help make the biscuits because she says her arthritis doesn’t let her do some of the things she used to anymore. We’ve had some of our best conversations making breakfast.

  I always try to be responsible and tell her that she’s not supposed to be eating pork, but she waves in dismissal and quips, “I’m seventy years old and I’ve eaten this stuff my whole life. If I’m meant to die from eating a little sausage then I’ll die fat and happy.”

  I usually just shake my head and grin. I want to be that carefree when I’m her age. Sometimes I feel guilty because I have so much time left and I spend the majority of my days worrying about silly things that don’t even matter in the long run. But she’s always teaching me that there is so much more to life than worrying about things I can’t change.

  Her husband passed away about four years before I moved in. It’s a funny story actually, how I came to be living with Martha. I was jogging through the neighborhood and happened to see the room for rent sign on her lawn. While I was taking down the number she shouted from the porch, “Morning!”

  I removed my earbuds and jumped. When she shouted, she reminded me of the old actress Elaine Stritch; very outspoken and loud without a shred of fear. Her initial greeting had startled me so bad I almost wet my pants. While I regained my composure I replied, “Good Morning,” and tossed up a hand to wave at her.

  I was about to reset my music and continue my run, but she kept talking to me, “Scared ya didn’t I?”

  I smiled, “A little, but everything scares me.”

  She chuckled with amusement, “Ain’t no need to be scared of me; I couldn’t move as fast as you if my life depended on it.”

  I could see her hands spinning through the porch rails and was intrigued by what she was working on. From the sidewalk I couldn’t make out her features that well but she invited me to come on up and sit a spell, so I did.

  As I approached I noticed her fluffy-white cotton candy hair sticking out from under a sunhat. Her bottle cap glasses were perched on the edge of her nose, but she didn’t really need them to do whatever she was doing. Her hands just kept moving with instinctive precision. I approached cautiously and asked, “What are you working on?”

  She lifted her gaze and smiled, “Blankets for the animal shelter.”

  I smiled, “That is so nice, how long does it take you to make one?”

  “Couple of days,” she responded matter of factually.

  Silence lingered for a moment before she spoke again, “I saw you looking at my sign, are you looking for somewhere to rent?”

  I nodded and explained that my parents were moving to Florida but I wanted to stay here. She set her knitting to the side and gave me her best poker face, “Do you smoke or drink?”

  “No,” I shook my head.

  “Any loud parties or music?”

  I shook my head no again.

  She gave me the once over, “Well, you don’t look like a troublemaker.”

  I fired back, “Not at all, I’m just a delivery boy for a food service app.”

  “So, you got a job?”

  “Yeah,” I nodded.

  She grinned and took her knitting back up, “Well, the rent is a hundred dollars a week. It ain’t nothing fancy but it’s a nice big room. It includes your water, electric, a few cable channels, and there is a bathroom down the hallway from it.”

  I shrugged, “Sound perfect!”

  She jerked her head, “It’s the first one at the top of the stairs; go on in and take a look. If you like it you’re welcome to it.”

  I nodded, stood, and opened the front door. As I stepped inside I couldn’t help but notice how grand the entryway was. It was adorned with beautiful woodwork and smelled of potpourri; just what you would expect from a house owned by a woman her age.

  Pictures of her family decorated the walls of the stairwell and as I reached the top, a number one was etched into a tiny wooden plaque that hung on the door. I turned the knob and the door swung open. I must say I wasn’t expecting it to be as grand as it was but as I glanced around I couldn’t escape the sudden feeling I had that I was at home.

  The room was the one on the front inside of the turret. I’d always passed these big old Victorians and wonder how the builder could make a room with round walls and upon seeing it for the first time; it all made sense. The room had hardwood floors and in the center was an elaborate Oriental rug. Antique waterfall style furniture with doilies was tastefully distributed despite the room’s odd shape. It may have been a little fancier than I needed but I wanted it; it made me feel like a little prince.

  I quickly closed the door and rushed excitedly down the stairs to let her know. As I stepped onto the porch she croaked, “Well?”

  “It’s beautiful and I would love to take it!”

  She smiled with approval, “That was my daughter’s room when she was growing up.”

  I took a seat next to her and she pointed at a nearby table, “Hand me those cigarettes son.”

  I took the long box in my hand and read the writing, Misty Blue 120’s. She took the pack and pulled a long cylinder from inside the box before reaching into her bra to grab a metal lighter. She lit it and blew a sinuous cloud into the air before saying, “I’m Martha.”

  I leaned back and glanced around the grand front porch, “I’m Leo, well my full name is Leonardo Menke.”

  “As in Menke’s Auto Repair?”

  “That’s my dad’s shop,” I replied with a smile.

  Martha looked nostalgic for a moment before shaking her cigarette at me, “My husband Bert used to get all of our cars worked on there.”

  I smiled again, “Well, on behalf of my dad, thank you for your business.”

  She nodded and took another drag off her cigarette, “I’m getting hungry, how would you like some breakfast?”

  I hesitated, “I don’t want to take your food.”

  I could only just assume at that time that she was on a limited income and didn’t want to start off our first day feeling like I took advantage of an old lady. She tucked her yarn into an apron and said, “I insist; besides I’m a loaded old broad so trust me you’re not putting me out. I just enjoy the company.”

  I rebutted, “Didn’t you say you had a daughter?”

  She scowled, “Oh please, Charlene is just waiting for me to kick the bucket so she can sell this place and get my money.”

  I followed her to the kitchen, “Does she live nearby?”

  “Nope, lives out in California. She’s one of those hoity-toity lawyers for some firm in San Francisco.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said empathetically as she pulled some eggs from the fridge.

  “Don’t be,” she said reassuringly. I’m happy out here by myself.

  **

  I had gotten lost in my memories as Martha began plating our food. I truly wouldn’t know what to do without her. I’ve concluded that I need someone to take care of me because I can’t possibly take care of myself. I do okay driving about town and delivering food but if I was in a situation where I had to keep track of fixing my meals and things, I would most certainly forget and probably starve to death.

  That’s why a meaningful relationship is becoming so important. I’ve noticed Martha pausing lately and holding her chest. When I ask if she is feeling okay; she just nods and mumbles, “Oh, it’s just that damn heartburn or indigestion again.”

  Also, she will occasionally stop her knitting and complain that her arm is hurting. My limited experience in nursing school told me that they may be signs of a heart attack, but Martha is one of those people who doesn’t trust hospitals. So, I just keep a close eye on her and say a little prayer.

  After breakfast, I initiated the plan Martha and I had discussed. I was going to make my way to Billy’s shop but on the way I would stop at Zestos, a little ice cream shop in town that serves burgers, ice cream, and the best hot dogs.

  Everything was going according to plan when I arrived at Billy’s shop with lunch in hand. I took a few deep breaths and sighed, “You can do this Leo!”

  I opened the car door and rushed into the shop but once I was inside I noticed he was swamped with customers. The waiting room was full of dissatisfied looking people. He had the phone to his ear, holding it in place with his shoulder as he typed away on the computer. I was standing behind an elderly gentleman fussing over the price on his bill. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all?

  I was debating upon quietly slipping out while no one was looking.

  Just when I had made the decision and started toward the door a booming voice shouted, “Hey kid, what’d you break this time?”

  I bit my bottom lip and turned around. At that moment, it was if we were the only two human beings in the world. Our eyes locked and he held up his finger to the elderly gentleman in front of him, “Be right with you.”

  I watched him saunter from behind the counter and towards me. He ran his hand through his slicked black hair and grinned as he approached. I was frozen like a deer in headlights, afraid to make a move. I crossed my legs to hide the fact that they were shaking. He propped his arm on the doorframe high above my head and glared down at me with a wicked smile. I swallowed hard. My eyes scanned his body from his feet, slowly up his torso, to his chest, then to his eyes.

  I closed my eyes, turned away, and held out the fast food bag. “I um, I didn’t break anything this time but I um, I wanted to bring you something to thank you for fixing my car.”

  Silence lingered. Eventually I met his gaze again and he crooned, “How sweet.”

  I attempted to change positions by resting my hand casually on the door, but it opened and I spilled out toward the ground. This time I could feel his strong arm wrap around me. His hand rested again on the small of my back and he pulled me up and into his body. I rested my hands on his chest, glanced away and whispered, “Wow!”

  An amused chuckle vibrated through his chest as I looked up into his sultry eyes. He was so tall and I could feel his cock pressing against my thigh. Finally, he snarled, “You don’t know how happy I am to see you again.”

  I giggled nervously, “I think I do.”

  He squinted, slipped his hand lower to my butt and pushed my body tighter to his, “Do you now?”

  I was starting to get so turned on. His entire hand almost covered my tiny little ass. He gave it a light squeeze and I yelped. He bit his bottom lip to suppress a laugh and quickly separated from me. As he did, I promptly pulled my hoodie down to hide my raging hard-on and he turned to place his bag on the counter. When he turned back to me his expression was highlighted with disappointment, “I wish I wasn’t so busy or I’d ask if you want to have a seat in my office while I eat this.”

  I lowered my eyes to the floor and traced the cracks of the tile with my foot, “I understand, maybe we could…”

  I didn’t get to finish my statement before the phone rang and he rushed back to the counter. I had reached the limitations of my ability to handle the tension and quickly bolted out the door to my car. Once inside, I crossed my arms on the steering wheel and buried my face inside of them. I was so disappointed in myself that I couldn’t go through with it.

  It was obvious that Billy wanted me, and him feeling me up was the most excitement I’d had in a long time. But why didn’t I just stay and wait for him to get off the phone? Why did I run? Especially when I know that running away from things is why I didn’t get my nursing degree and it’s why I’ve missed out on so many other opportunities.

  It all comes down to the fact that I’m afraid. Afraid I’ll make a fool of myself; afraid I’ll embarrass someone else, or hurt someone. As I shifted the car into drive and made my way back to the house, I kept going over the moment Billy and I shared. I want him so bad. Martha is really going to chew me out over this one. It’ll probably be the same lecture she always gives me. “Why do I always overthink things and chicken out? Why don’t you take a chance for once in your life?”

  Then she’ll fuss at me in that grandmotherly tone, “No one ever got anything they wanted by sitting on their ass and expecting it to fall from the sky; they got up and went after it.”

  But tonight, I wasn’t in the mood to be lectured. I just wanted to go home and sulk in my room. As I pulled into the driveway I contemplated on whether to go in or do some deliveries instead. I opted to go do some deliveries. Keeping busy was always the best way to distract me from my troubles. I unlocked my phone, pressed the delivery app, and waited for my phone to light up with an order.

  I had gotten so lost in my work that I’d lost all track of time. It was early evening when I finally started toward the house but I had forgotten to end my shift and my phone chimed with another order. I sighed. At this point I was exhausted and willing to take any guff Martha had to dish out just so I could go home. But I was nearby the restaurant needing a pickup so I changed directions and made my way toward their direction instead.

  It was unseasonably warm for January in Indiana, low sixties, and over the afternoon clouds had started to roll in. I had heard on the radio that it was supposed to rain for the next couple of days. I kind of was hoping it would hold off until I finished my delivery but as I arrived at the restaurant, the clouds broke loose and it began to sprinkle. That sprinkle quickly turned into a downpour by the time I had gone inside to retrieve my order to the time I made it back to my car.

  My clothes were thoroughly soaked and I was shivering like a hairless cat in winter. I knew I had an umbrella somewhere in the car and as I made my way toward the customer’s house, I used my hand to search under the seat for it. At last! I found it and set it in the passenger’s seat so I would be ready when I arrived. To my surprise, my navigator was taking me to a house only a few streets past my own.

  “Your destination is on the left,” The navigator announced.

  I searched the houses for the number listed in my app and found it written out with house number stickers on the pole holding up a mailbox shaped like an antique pickup truck. I smiled at its quirkiness as I poised my hand to open the car door. The rain was still coming down hard so I had my umbrella ready. I do this funny thing where I prop one side on top of the car door while the other side rests on the roof of the car. It makes it easier for me to grab my delivery bag and things.

  Why did I think that everything would go perfectly? All of sudden a freak gust of wind came out of nowhere and practically took my umbrella with it. I managed to catch it before it got away, but not before the wind flipped it inside out leaving me exposed to the torrential downpour. With a squeak of frustration, I bolted toward the customer’s door shouting, “Wet! Wet! Wet!.”

  I pressed the doorbell and waited. It seemed to take an eternity before a familiar booming voice shouted, “Be right there!”

  I was shivering and praying he didn’t notice that the cardboard box holding his pizza had gotten wet when my umbrella decided to go all wonky on me. Upon further inspection it didn’t look as bad as I initially thought, fortunately my body had shielded it from getting too wet. Still, I felt guilty that I hadn’t been more careful. Martha had warned me never to let go of an umbrella in a rainstorm. I’d initially written her comment off as an old wife’s tale but now I was regretting not listening to her.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7