The Dark Light of Day
Page 31
“Now what?” I asked him, tucking the key into my pocket.
“Now, you make me dinner, massage my feet, become my sex slave, and clean the gutters.” He winked at me.
“Oh really?” I liked joking around with him.
“Nah. But the receptionist here just quit, so if you want a job, you can help by answering the phones for Reggie. He doesn’t exactly have people skills.”
“I don’t know if my people skills would be much better.” I wasn’t sure I even had people skills.
“Yesterday, Reggie told a woman that if she didn’t know how to care for her car then she had no right owning it.”
“Ok, I think I can do better than that,” I said. “But only because he’s set the bar so low.”
“Unless you would rather try to find work somewhere else. That’s cool, too. There’s a Hooters a few miles away. You’d look great in the uniform.” He laughed. He knew exactly what he was doing. He seemed to know the one detail that would get under my skin the most.
“Won’t your dad mind that I work here?” I didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes.
“Nope. He’s locked himself in his house, doesn’t come out much. No one’s seen him in a while, and I’m not about to pay him a friendly house call.”
“That sucks.”
“It’s better if we don’t see each other, anyway. Things didn’t end well when I first left town. Shouldn’t take me long to sort out the mess of a business he’s been ignoring. Then, I’m gone again.” He stared off into the sky, his mind obviously on things that places like Coral Pines could not provide.
Back in the apartment, Jake made us both sandwiches while I sat at the counter. I didn’t realize how long it had been since I’d last eaten. I could hear my stomach growl when he set my turkey and cheese in front of me on a paper plate. He politely ignored it, although it was loud enough for the neighbors to hear.
“What do you do?” I asked. “Are you a mechanic when you aren’t here?”
“Not exactly.”
“How can you not exactly be a mechanic?”
“I have mechanic skills, but I only work as a mechanic when I am here.” Then, he asked, “Where are you from?” He took a big bite of his sandwich so his mouth was full. Both the question and the face stuffing were avoidance tactics I’d used myself. Maybe, he was embarrassed about his regular job. I didn’t push.
“Atlanta area, I think,” I answered. I was pretty sure that was almost correct, because my parents had been in and out of the Georgia State Prison system. When anyone asked, I usually said Atlanta because it’s the only city I remember in Georgia off the top of my head.
“You think?”
“I was young when we left, and we moved around a lot.”
“And why did you come to Coral Pines?” This was a slippery slope he was heading down.
“To live with my Nan.” My ability to give only vague answers impressed me.
“And why was that?”
“Pass.”
“Pass?” Jake asked.
“Yes. Whenever you don’t want to answer a question, you get to pass. I’m choosing to pass on that one.”
“Who came up with these rules?”
“My Nan.”
“So you’re just gonna take a pass because your Nan invented a game to let you slide on having to tell anyone anything?” He was a perceptive one.
“Pretty much.” I took a big bite of my sandwich. The recognition of what I was doing danced in Jake’s eyes. He flashed me a smirk.
Once I’d choked my way through more turkey than I should have shoved down my throat in the first place, I laid out a few questions of my own. “So you’re from here?”
“Yes.”
“But you left?”
“Yes.” That single-word motherfucker.
“Why did you leave?”
“My mother and brother died.” I thought I had heard that Frank’s wife and son had died, but I didn’t put two and two together that it would have been Jake’s mother and brother. I avoided apologizing for it. I wasn’t sorry. I didn’t do anything. I never understood that practice anyway.
“How?” I asked, curious.
My brother drowned in a boating accident, and shortly after my mom couldn’t process his death, so she opted out.”
“Opted out?” I asked.
“Took matters into her own hands,” he said.
“No—I know what it means. I actually use that phrase myself. I’ve just never heard someone else say it before, is all.” I sipped my Coke. “I can see why you left, then.”
“Now, you make me dinner, massage my feet, become my sex slave, and clean the gutters.” He winked at me.
“Oh really?” I liked joking around with him.
“Nah. But the receptionist here just quit, so if you want a job, you can help by answering the phones for Reggie. He doesn’t exactly have people skills.”
“I don’t know if my people skills would be much better.” I wasn’t sure I even had people skills.
“Yesterday, Reggie told a woman that if she didn’t know how to care for her car then she had no right owning it.”
“Ok, I think I can do better than that,” I said. “But only because he’s set the bar so low.”
“Unless you would rather try to find work somewhere else. That’s cool, too. There’s a Hooters a few miles away. You’d look great in the uniform.” He laughed. He knew exactly what he was doing. He seemed to know the one detail that would get under my skin the most.
“Won’t your dad mind that I work here?” I didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes.
“Nope. He’s locked himself in his house, doesn’t come out much. No one’s seen him in a while, and I’m not about to pay him a friendly house call.”
“That sucks.”
“It’s better if we don’t see each other, anyway. Things didn’t end well when I first left town. Shouldn’t take me long to sort out the mess of a business he’s been ignoring. Then, I’m gone again.” He stared off into the sky, his mind obviously on things that places like Coral Pines could not provide.
Back in the apartment, Jake made us both sandwiches while I sat at the counter. I didn’t realize how long it had been since I’d last eaten. I could hear my stomach growl when he set my turkey and cheese in front of me on a paper plate. He politely ignored it, although it was loud enough for the neighbors to hear.
“What do you do?” I asked. “Are you a mechanic when you aren’t here?”
“Not exactly.”
“How can you not exactly be a mechanic?”
“I have mechanic skills, but I only work as a mechanic when I am here.” Then, he asked, “Where are you from?” He took a big bite of his sandwich so his mouth was full. Both the question and the face stuffing were avoidance tactics I’d used myself. Maybe, he was embarrassed about his regular job. I didn’t push.
“Atlanta area, I think,” I answered. I was pretty sure that was almost correct, because my parents had been in and out of the Georgia State Prison system. When anyone asked, I usually said Atlanta because it’s the only city I remember in Georgia off the top of my head.
“You think?”
“I was young when we left, and we moved around a lot.”
“And why did you come to Coral Pines?” This was a slippery slope he was heading down.
“To live with my Nan.” My ability to give only vague answers impressed me.
“And why was that?”
“Pass.”
“Pass?” Jake asked.
“Yes. Whenever you don’t want to answer a question, you get to pass. I’m choosing to pass on that one.”
“Who came up with these rules?”
“My Nan.”
“So you’re just gonna take a pass because your Nan invented a game to let you slide on having to tell anyone anything?” He was a perceptive one.
“Pretty much.” I took a big bite of my sandwich. The recognition of what I was doing danced in Jake’s eyes. He flashed me a smirk.
Once I’d choked my way through more turkey than I should have shoved down my throat in the first place, I laid out a few questions of my own. “So you’re from here?”
“Yes.”
“But you left?”
“Yes.” That single-word motherfucker.
“Why did you leave?”
“My mother and brother died.” I thought I had heard that Frank’s wife and son had died, but I didn’t put two and two together that it would have been Jake’s mother and brother. I avoided apologizing for it. I wasn’t sorry. I didn’t do anything. I never understood that practice anyway.
“How?” I asked, curious.
My brother drowned in a boating accident, and shortly after my mom couldn’t process his death, so she opted out.”
“Opted out?” I asked.
“Took matters into her own hands,” he said.
“No—I know what it means. I actually use that phrase myself. I’ve just never heard someone else say it before, is all.” I sipped my Coke. “I can see why you left, then.”
