Kuunari

The next day, he was raking some clippings in his relatives’ front yard, when Penny pulled up in her old beige Honda Accord. She stepped out of her car and waved, and he leaned the rake against the tree, squinting into the sun to follow her up the steps. She wore a tank top and low cut jeans, the warmth of late august not enough to keep her from wearing her new fall clothes. Her blond hair was in a pony tail behind our head, and seemed to be glowing from the sun’s rays. She stopped in front of him, and seemed at a loss for what to say.

“Thanks again for picking me up last night.” He began, to ease the mood.

“Sure.” She said smiling and looked away, her eyes stopping on the car she had parked next to. The hood was up, and various tools were scattered around the front of the car. She spent a moment looking at the logo on the hood. “Whose beamer,” she asked looking back at him.

“It’s mine.” He replied, and took a rag out of his back pocket to wipe his brow.

“Nice car. What’s wrong with it?”

“Alternator. We ordered a replacement, but it’ll take a couple of days to come in.”

“Are you going to install it yourself?” She asked, glancing again at the tools in the driveway.

“Yeah, my Uncle used the be a mechanic, and he’s going to help me put it in. The place in Painesville has all the other parts we’ll need.”

“Where’d you order it from?” She inquired, suddenly very interested.

“This place called Painesville Import Motors.”

“Really? I work there as the secretary. Small world, huh?” She locked her gaze with him, and he thought that he might be staying in town for longer than it would take to just fix his car.

She shook her head, and turned back to her car. “Well, I just wanted to make sure everything was ok. Let me give you my phone number in case you need anything.” She reached into the open passenger window, and rummaged through the glove box before pulling out a pencil and a small scrap of paper. She used the roof of her car to write, and then walked back to Dean and handed the piece of paper to him. “Call me if you need anything,” she repeated, and turned quickly and left him standing there, paper in hand.

The sun was setting as Dean finished up the last of his chores. The day had been spent patching the roof, mowing the lawn, weeding the garden. He had spent the warmest hours inside, drinking coffee with his Aunt and listening to the sordid tales of second cousins and great uncles.

Dean could feel himself changing from the work he had done. He looked at his hands, the dirt caked below his nails, the lines on his hands brought into relief by the mud that hadn’t come off after repeated scrubbings. He wondered if he could stand a lifetime of days like this, hard work and labor, but the satisfaction to look at a job accomplished instead of just begun.

He took out the paper that he had stuffed in the back pocket an old pair of his uncle’s Dickies. She had simply written her name and number in the flowing script of someone who takes pride in their penmenship. He knew that his Aunt and Uncle went to bed early after putting the kids to sleep, and he didn’t forsee going to sleep anytime soon. He might as well call, he reasoned, and went in to use his Aunt’s phone.

The phone hung from the yellowing flower-papered wall, a long, over extended cord leading from the reciever to the holder. He held the reciever in his shoulder, and dialed the number she had left him.

Later that night, they sat at a bench in the town square, her car parked near the imitation log cabin that in the fall sold pure maple syrup. His eyes kept drifting skyward, and she told him about how she had come to work as a secretary of a small times auto parts dealer.

“You know,” he started in a lull in the conversation and paused either to collect his thoughts or for dramatic effect, “I don’t think I’ll make it to Minneapolis at all. I’m just tired of it all,” sweeping his left hand across the night sky.

“I just don’t think i can do it anymore.” He added when she said nothing.

“What do you mean?” she asked, finally following his prompts.

“For me at least, I’ve ignored the thoughts, the feelings, the worries that I have been stuck with. All those thoughts that kept me up at night. I’ve done my best to fit in. You know, have friends, have a job, be successful. If I didn’t ignore them, I’d be left hating everyone.” He said and looked at her, hoping she wouldn’t agree. “God, I sound ridiculous.”

“No,” she replied, unsure if she really meant it. She looked him over, he seemed normal. But the way various body parts would twitch and then settle, the look deep in his blue eyes when speaking passionately betrayed a dangerous abnormality beneath the surface. But with this danger was excitement, a sense that he could do anything in his voice. She couldn’t help but get swept up in it. She had already turned off her phone, sure that her boyfriend was wondering where she was, and she had no idea how she would answer him.

“I guess I know what you mean,” she added. “I love my father but since my mother died, I’ve basically taken care of him. I know he’d get along fine without me, but I just can’t imagine it. I’m not even sure what I’d want if I had the chance to do it.” She looked back at him for confimation.

“People could be great, if they just let themselves.” And he paused, letting the shopworn quote sink in. “That’s why I can’t go and work in some law firm, helping some partner help some country club buddy get away with whatever he thinks he can get away with. I know, I know, I knew what I was getting into when I went to law school, and maybe I can be the type who changes things from the inside, but I just don’t think I can. ”