Constant Pull (11 page)

“Oh, well, not without borrowing it from my parents, but I guess that’s the best part. He wouldn’t need
any
money now. He only wants payments over ten years and then the entire balance at that time.” He explained.

“That’s great!  Right?  You seem happy about it
. What did Lanie say?” I asked. I noticed by the guilt that rolled across his face that he hadn’t told her yet.

“Well, yes, I’m happy
. But I haven’t told her yet. I haven’t told anyone else yet. I guess, well…I guess I just thought I’d be some corporate type engineer and that would be our life. Khakis and a button down shirt every day.” He rubbed his chin as he spoke. “But, I think maybe I don’t really want that. I might be OK with small town business owner, you know?  It just fits better in my mind. I like the interaction with people. The idiots don’t bother me too much and they’re not the majority. I just feel like I know what Lanie will say.” He said with disappointment. “I know she’ll worry that the big box stores will be cheaper and owning a small specialty shop will be a bad move. I know she’ll say in ten years that everyone with buy a bike at the same time that they buy milk and bread. But I feel like I could make it a specialty experience, you know?  I will fit people to the bikes and I will adjust them and repair them and get to know their kids. I’ve got some marketing ideas for specials with pediatric doctor offices since they’re really pushing exercise and stuff.”  He paused. “I’ve agonized over this for the last 24 hours and I can honestly say that I think it’s a life I would be proud of. It’s not what I imagined initially, but that’s OK, right?” he said, looking expectantly at me. He had an almost childlike expression of hope on his face. It was such a contrast to his suit and the restaurant that I couldn’t help but smile. I was thankful that he trusted me with this news.

“I think it’s great
. I can see you doing it and being happy there until you’re old and gray.” I said.

“Exactly
. I could buy a house nearby and walk to work-or ride my bike!” he laughed. “It’s a nice area. It’s like the land that time never touched.”  He began to rub his chin again. I could hear the sound of his short beard moving under his fingers

“It’s a super cute area. I might have to buy a house down the street. I want to be close to the best bike shop in Metro Detroit.” I said.

Kevin raised one eyebrow
. “See?  Sounds good doesn’t it. You never know. Maybe I could expand the store and you could sell furniture on the other side. A bike shop slash furniture store.” He joked, taking a sip of his drink. His expression became serious again.

“Do you think
Lanie will freak?” he asked me, a trace of dread in his voice.

I had no idea if she would freak so I worried about what I said next
. I tried not to pause for too long thinking what to say because that would be an automatic ‘yes she’ll freak’. I tried a different approach.

“Do you think she’s the one?” I asked, gently
. Because if the answer was no, then whether or not she would freak was irrelevant.

Kevin rearranged himself in his chair and then leaned over his plate toward me
. “Some days I’m sure of it.” He looked off into the distance as he considered his answer. “Well, most days I am. But, I guess maybe I’m not positive just yet.”

I paused, wording my next sentence carefully
. “Well, maybe you should be sure that you do what makes
you
happy while you have the option of only worrying about yourself. It’s your time to make decisions that will impact your whole life. Be a little selfish. Defend your dreams.” I said with a one shoulder shrug, sounding a little more profound than I meant to.

Kevin laughed
. “You sound like my mother.”

“That is a compliment.” I said.

“I meant it that way, and it
is
a good point. I think I really want to do this, but I’m worried for a few reasons. It’s a big commitment. I do the books for the bike shop now so I know the income and it’s not huge but it’s good. And I have some good ideas that would potentially bring in more business.”  He seemed to be thinking while he spoke.

“Your argument to Lanie could be that if it didn’t work out, it’s not like you couldn’t change
. People change their profession or take a different direction all the time, right?”

“Right
. I guess her main problem is that her Dad owned a small business when she was a kid and the economy was rough and she didn’t have good memories of what it did to him. He worked himself into the ground. I’ll just have to convince her that I’m not her Dad and not every business is the same. You know?”

I eyeballed him
. “So…. did you just decide to do it?” I asked, teasing him.

“I believe I just did.” He
announced, holding his beer up to me. I raised my glass and he said “to life changing decisions with one of my best friends who happens to look absolutely beautiful tonight.”

“Cheers
. And thank you. For everything.” I smiled.

We finished our very artful
ly presented dinner and walked around downtown Detroit for a few blocks. We poked our heads into the bakery in Greektown and just outside the door on the sidewalk, a young lady was selling Detroit themed artwork. My favorite was a photograph of a sewer cover in the foreground with steam escaping from the holes and downtown Detroit’s buildings in the distance.

We walked through the casino where Kevin tried his luck at a blackjack table for a little while
. It was fun to watch him-always confident. When he was losing, he’d make jokes and the other players would laugh.

I tried a few slot machines but neither of us are big gamblers
. It was more fun just to people watch. One lady sat with a floral scarf wrapped around her head and plastic tub from coffee grounds sitting on her lap. The tub was filled with quarters and she very patiently fed them into two machines at once. She was nearly expressionless the entire time, unless someone eyeballed one of her machines-if looks could kill.

We took a cab over to the Renaissance Center where we rode the elevator to the very top
. At the top was a bar with wraparound windows and views of the whole city as well as Windsor, Canada. We got a sunken table for two and ordered a couple of drinks to finish off the night. I remembered that my lipstick had probably worn off, but I decided that I didn’t care in the least. We both were quiet for a moment, looking over the city. I took my feet out of my shoes and stretched my toes. Kevin handed me my new slippers.

“Thanks
.” I told him. I’d actually forgotten about them.

“
You’re very welcome. So what about you.” He said. “Are you happy?”

“With these?
  They’re great.” I asked as I put my feet in the super soft slippers.

“Nah, I meant with life
. Everything going OK?” he said.

“I’m happy.” I said
. “I’m still weighing my options in terms of whether or not I’m going to be a carpenter until the day I die. But I do like the work.”

“
And you’re good at it. I still think you should really investigate the furniture piece of it. Might be nice to do something like that. People love hand-crafted furniture, you know?”

“They do
. Plus I wouldn’t have to go to other people’s houses which might be nice. I just have to get better at it. I kind of suck at it still.”  I ran my finger along the top of my glass while I continued.

“
I remember when I first started doing my job-you know, helping Murray. He told me that he suggested it because he was intrigued by my ability to focus on a task and stick with it. I never considered that to be ability-I thought it was just because I had a lazy mind-but he disagreed. He took me on my first job and I said ‘Hi’ all bubbly to every worker we passed. We got in the kitchen and he immediately scolded me. ‘Mel, I don’t want you being all fruity and nice to these guys or I’ll never be able to leave you alone if this works out. You’re here for your job-today your job is helping me. Dress like you hate yourself and act like you’re just plain pissed.’ I remember that I laughed but he was very serious. ‘This is a big deal to me. Most of these guys are true gentlemen, 10% are perverts, and 2% are criminals. And Mel, some of the gentlemen are perverts too. You work with new people all the time and you don’t know most enough to trust ‘em. You have to be uninviting and firm but not rude unless you have to be and then go ‘head and be rude. I’d rather that than you getting all giddy on them. Oh and make firm eye contact. You heard me?  Firm eye contact.’” I did my best impersonation of Murray and laughed at the end.

“He’s right.” Kevin said
. “Sounds like he regards you as his own.”

I nodded
. “I think he does.” 

We were quiet
.

“Thanks
, Kevin. I can’t imagine a better night.” I got a little lump in my throat which I wasn’t expecting.

“I can’t either.” He said, smiling.

I rushed home on my lunch hour to check on the router bit set I was expecting for my Grampa’s birthday. My Grampa rarely checked for packages on the porch so I had a good chance of seeing it before he did, even if he’d been home all day. As I turned into the driveway, I noticed that he wasn’t home and the package was waiting on the porch. I grabbed it and tossed it on the floor on the passenger side of my truck, smiling to myself. I was so excited to give it to my Grampa.

As I pulled up the driveway
the rest of the way, I saw Dave playing with a paddle ball in his backyard. I remembered the man in my dream making the cross wrist movement with his arms held in front of his face. I vaguely wondered if it might be sign language. I figured I’d ask Dave if it was anything he might understand since he used sign language regularly. He waved when he saw me. I stopped the truck and walked toward him.

“Hey Dave, I have a quick question for you.” I said, cheerfully.

“For me?” he said, pointing to his chest.

“Yes sir.” I
said. “Someone did this sign and I wasn’t sure if it was just random or actually a word in sign language.”  I demonstrated the fists with the crossed wrists for him in front of my face a couple of times.

Dave
made a funny face, thinking hard. “Hmmmm” he said. “I don’t know that one, but I will ask my teacher. I’ll see him next week.” He said.

I felt relieved. “That sounds great
. No rush at all, it might be totally random. I’m gonna run and wrap my Grampa’s gift. His birthday’s coming up. I’ll catch you later.”

“
OK, Melia. I’m going to work anyways.” Dave said, waving. He worked as a bagger at the grocery store down the street.

I ran into the house and opened the box with a butter knife from the kitchen drawer
. I wiped the knife on my pants and tossed it back into the drawer. I ran up to my room and opened the box. The router set was in a cardboard sleeve that I carefully slipped off to admire the very nice case. It was excellent. I didn’t want to open the box and look at the set, so it would be truly new when my Grampa opened it. I slipped the cardboard sleeve back on and put the bit set in my armoire under a sweater and shut the doors. I decided that I would head downstairs to grab something for lunch before I went back to work.

I grabb
ed the empty box on the bed; it felt a little heavier than I expected. I peeked into the box and noticed fabric in a plastic bag. I was certain that I didn’t order anything else. I decided that it must have been a logo T-Shirt as a giveaway from the manufacturer of the router bits. I impatiently clutched it and opened it up. It was a bright yellow T-shirt, clearly a woman’s cut. It read:

I’d Rather be in Temecula

Temecula. Temecula California. My stomach heaved and dread swept over me. It felt like I had a weight sitting directly on my chest. I dropped to the floor. I was still for a few minutes, my head resting on my bed. All that I’d been suppressing came flooding back to me. I was overwhelmed.

My hands shaking, I grabbed the receipt and dialed the company
’s phone number, pressing zero over and over to reach someone in customer service. Repeatedly, it began the sentence:

“I’m sorry you’re having t
rouble.” the automated voice said.

It disconnected me
. It actually disconnected my call. I hit the redial button and heard the many extra button pushes as I listened for the automated message to answer. I clamped my eyes shut and pressed my palm to my forehead as I tried to be as patient as I could stomach, pressing the proper buttons to reach a customer service person.

“
Customer Service, this is Mary, how may I assist you?”

“I am wondering why I got
an extra item in my order and want to know if I ordered it.” I said, trying to keep my voice as calm as I could-although it was barely louder than a whisper.

“Well, let me have your order number so I can retrieve that order for you.” She said.

“It’s 4498882-778.” I replied, reading from the receipt.

“
OK, let me see here. Looks like you ordered the 25 piece router set. Did you receive that in your order?”

“Yes, I have that
. But, there is also a shirt.” I said.

“A shirt ma’am?  That’s odd
. I don’t see a shirt on your order.”  She said in a soothing tone.

“Well, I’m standing here holding it!”
I yelled as I shook the shirt in my clenched hand.

“I’m sorry ma’am, I’m just not showing a shirt shipped to you
in your order history. There’s no reason to shout at me. I’m just trying to help.” She said.

I shook my head slightly, feeling
speechless. I didn’t know what to do.

“I just want to send it back
. So, tell me what to do. I don’t want it. I don’t need a return number or anything. I just want to send it back, so I need your address.” I said, hopelessness filling my voice.

“
Well, the thing is ma’am, we don’t sell shirts at all. We are exclusively a tool company. Not a shirt in the whole product line. We wouldn’t know what to do with it.”  She said softly, sounding as if she were speaking to a lunatic that she didn’t want to upset.

“Please just give me your address
. I just want to send it back to you. Maybe it got accidentally dropped in the box by an employee and they’ll want it back.” I said, covering my eyes.

She gave me the address of the place and
I wrote it on the back of my hand. I didn’t want to take any chances that the inside might be too sweaty and make the writing less clear. I hung up with the lady and began to get to my feet when I noticed something on the bottom of the slippers that Kevin bought me the night we went out. It was a sticker, smashed and stuck to the bottom. Must have been from when I wore them outside at the end of the night. I pulled the slipper out from under my bed, bottom side up and saw the word: PROTECTED. I pulled the sticker down from where it was rolled up and saw the that the rest of the sticker was from some home alarm monitoring company and this was their window sticker for customers.

I tore the sticker off my slipper and wildly tried to get every single sticky part off
, using my fingernail to scrape it as my hands shook. I ran to the sink of the bathroom and scrubbed the slipper’s sole with soap and water and a nail brush, tossing the sticker and scraps into the box with the T-Shirt.

When I was satisfied with how cleanly it was removed, I ran down the stairs and transferred the company’s address from my hand to the box
. I taped it up and tossed it in my truck. I got in the truck and immediately drove to the post office, tears streaming down my face the whole way.

My phone rang
. It was a number I didn’t recognize, but I answered anyway.

“Hello?”

“Mel?”

“Yes.” I cleared my throat, trying to disguise any tears in my voice.

“It’s Wren. How are you doing?”

“
Hi Wren, I’m sorry. I am-well, right in the middle of something. Can I call you back?” I cleared my throat again.

“
Oh - sure sure. Talk soon.”

“Bye”

I went into the post office and walked directly over to the automated postage machine. Turns out it would be over fifty dollars to ship it overnight. I didn’t care. I needed to get it there as fast as possible. I swiped my card and paid for it. Picking up the box, I spotted the metal mail dumper that allows you to leave packages without speaking to a post office worker. I placed the box in the open space and lifted the handle to spill it into the back room. The box was too big; the cylinder wouldn’t turn to dump it. I held both of my hands over my face in misery. Then, I suddenly knew what I would do.

I picked up
the box again and dropped it on the floor. Then, I stomped on it until it was nearly flat, tearing off the excess cardboard. I made sure that the address and postage were still readable, borrowed a mess of post office packaging tape to repair the torn cardboard, and placed my newly flattened box into the metal package dumper. It turned effortlessly and I heard the soft thud of relief.