Authors: Allie Everhart
"I don't need one. Just help me up." He holds his hand out to me but I hold his arm instead while Kira takes his other arm. We help him up to standing. "Damn ladder," he says. "Gave out just as I was cutting a branch." He's looking up at the massive oak tree that's above us.
"Why don't you just leave it?" I say. "The tree looks fine."
"The power company's making me cut it back. Says it's growing too close to the lines."
"Why don't you just hire someone? It's dangerous cutting branches like that."
"I don't have money to hire someone. And this is my last day to do it before I get fined." He waves at us. "You kids run along. I'm okay. Just got a little scratched up."
I look at his arm and see a big cut by his elbow with blood seeping out. Kira sees it too. We look at each other and I can tell she wants to help this guy as much as I do. No wonder I like this girl so much.
"You need to get that cleaned up," Kira says, taking him by the arm. "Let's go inside."
"I gotta cut those branches." He tries to yank his arm away from her but he's too weak.
"I'll do it," I tell him. "You got a bigger ladder and maybe a better saw?"
"Kid, I can't let you do that. Like you said, it's dangerous work."
"I do construction for a living. This is nothing."
He pauses, considering it. I hear him wheezing as he breathes. He's in rough shape. There's no way he should be cutting trees.
He points to the garage. "There's a bigger ladder in there but I haven't used it for a while. Make sure the bolts are tight before you get on it. As for the saw, that's all I got."
"That's okay. I might have one in my truck."
"Harold?" An elderly woman is standing at the door to the house. "Everything okay out there?"
"Everything's fine," he calls back. "Just getting some help with the tree. Scraped my arm up a little."
"Let's go clean it up," Kira says, helping him to the door.
I guarantee Lauren wouldn't be doing this. If Lauren were here instead of Kira, she'd be telling me to let the old guy cut his own tree so we could continue on with our day. But that's not how I was raised. I was taught to stop and help when someone needs it, and apparently Kira was taught the same.
As she takes him inside, I search through the back of my truck and find a saw. It's not mine. I think Nash put it in there and forgot to take it out. I bring it over to the ladder and assess the tree. I don't know much about trees so I'm not sure where, or how much, to cut.
I call up my dad. "Hey. Got a question," I say when he answers. We talk so often that I just skip the hello.
"What do you need?"
"You know anything about trees?" I explain the situation, then send him a photo of the tree and he tells me which branches to cut. I knew he'd be able to help. My dad is amazing. He can do most anything. I don't know where he learned all this shit but I find it impressive.
"Be careful," he says. "And stay away from the power lines."
"I will."
"Austin."
"Yeah?"
"It's good you're doing this. Not many people would stop and help."
"I'm just doing what you and Mom taught me."
"Yes, but you're also a good kid. Have a big heart. You always have."
I chuckle. "Don't start getting soft on me, Dad."
"If that man needs anything else done, tell him we'll take care of it."
"Okay, I will. Bye."
A half hour later, I'm still cutting branches and have a lot more to cut.
Kira comes out of the house and stands at the base of the ladder. "How's it coming?"
"Slow. It might take me another hour or two. You can take my truck back to your place and pick me up later."
"I'd rather stay here. Harold's wife made us lunch. She sent me out here to get you."
"Tell her I'll just stay here and finish. I don't need lunch."
"Yes, you do. You said you were starving and she really wants you to come inside. She has the table set and everything. Her name is June. She's so sweet. She reminds me of my grandma. Harold's a little grumpy, but I think all old guys are. Anyway, get down here. We'll have lunch and then you can come back out and finish."
I climb down the ladder. "You sure you're okay with this? We'll probably be here the rest of the afternoon."
"I don't mind. They need the help." She looks back at the house. "If we hadn't stopped, Harold would probably be in the hospital right now. He passed out. That's why he fell off the ladder. His wife said his pills make him dizzy. So I don't care how long it takes. He's not getting up on that ladder again."
I take her face in my hands and kiss her. "You're awesome."
She pulls away. "Come on. Let's go."
We go inside the tiny one-level house. It has an old person smell and is cluttered with dog figurines. Beagles. Some are dressed in costumes. I don't see a dog anywhere but I'm guessing they used to have a beagle.
The old lady comes up to me. She's tiny. Less than five feet tall. "Aren't you a handsome young man?" She winks at me. "I bet you're hungry. Right this way."
We follow her into the eat-in kitchen. Harold's already sitting at the small square table, eating a sandwich.
"He couldn't wait," she says, motioning to Harold. "He had to take his pill and he has to take it with food."
"That's fine," Kira says.
We both sit at the table, our food already arranged on our plates. There's a sandwich, some potato salad, and a square of green gelatin. A small dessert plate is off to the side with a brownie on it and we each have a glass of milk.
Kira smiles at me, then picks up her milk and takes a sip.
"Go ahead," June says, encouraging me to eat.
"Thanks for lunch, but you didn't have to make us anything."
"Don't be silly. You saved my Harold from killing himself with that tree."
"I would've been fine," he barks from the end of the table, his mouth full of potato salad.
It's a struggle to eat the lunch. I hate mayonnaise, can't even stand the smell of it, and the sandwich is chicken salad made with a ton of mayonnaise. Same with the potato salad. And then the gelatin, another food I don't like. I almost gagged getting it down. But I ate everything on my plate and washed it down with the milk. At least the brownie was good.
"I should get back to work," I say as June takes my plate.
"So you do construction?" Harold asks. He hasn't said a word all through lunch. June did all the talking, mostly asking Kira about Michigan and her family.
"Yeah, I work for my dad," I tell him. "He owns Wheeler Construction and Renovation."
His brows pop up. "Wheeler, huh? I've heard of them. They do those historic buildings."
"We do some of those, but we also do residential work and office buildings."
He smiles. "Bet your father's real proud of you."
I shrug. "I think he is. I at least try to make him proud."
He nods. "You're a good young man. A hard worker." He looks at Kira. "You should keep him around. A boy like that is hard to find."
"It's true," June chimes in.
Kira just smiles and eats her brownie.
"So what do your kids do for a living?" I ask. June mentioned them earlier but didn't say what they did.
Harold answers. "Our daughter, Nancy, is a nurse, and Paul, our son..." He shakes his head. "He used to work in music."
June lowers her voice like she's telling us a secret. "Paul got mixed up in the wrong crowd. Got himself in trouble with drugs. He's not into that anymore but it cost him his job."
"Still lives in Los Angeles though." Harold coughs. "Don't know why he lives there. Costs a fortune."
"Was he a musician?" I'm not sure if I should be asking since their son seems to be a sensitive topic, but I'm curious.
"He started out as a drummer," June says, "but couldn't make a living, so he got a job at a record label and worked his way up to the top."
"Had one of them corner offices for a while," Harold says. "He did well for himself, then lost it all." He shakes his head again.
"Austin's a musician," Kira says. "He plays the guitar. He's in a band."
"It's just me and two guys," I say. June and Harold look at each other, then back at me, and from their wary expressions, I get what they're thinking. "I don't do drugs. The other guys don't either. That was a rule when we formed the band."
Harold points at me. "I knew I liked you, kid."
"So does your band play much?" June asks.
"Yeah. We play almost every weekend and sometimes during the week."
"They're really popular," Kira says. "People love their music. And Austin is awesome on the guitar."
I smile at her because she's only heard me play one song.
"Have you tried to get a record deal?" June asks.
I laugh. "No. We're not
that
popular. We just play here in Chicago."
"Paul still has friends in the business," she says. "He could give you some names. Or maybe he could give you some advice."
"He doesn't want to be in that industry," Harold says. "It's corrupt. All drugs and criminals. You saw what it did to Paul."
"Oh, Harold, it can't all be bad." She gets up from the table. "I'll give you Paul's number. Tell him you might be calling."
She leaves, then returns with a piece of paper with her son's name and number on it. I wonder if this guy really was high up in the music industry or if she was exaggerating. I guess I could just call him. Like she said, he might be able to give me some advice about my music.
Kira helps June with the dishes while I go back outside and work on the tree. The fallen branches are making a mess of the lawn so Kira comes out and starts dragging them to the curb for the city to pick up. Then she rakes up the leaves.
At four-thirty, we're finally done. Harold and June thank us and June sends us home with a container of brownies.
"I'm exhausted," Kira says as I'm driving to her apartment.
"Because you worked your ass off. You worked harder than I did, dragging all those branches and doing all that raking."
"I really need a shower. And then I need a nap."
"I'll stop and get you something to eat. Then you won't have to worry about dinner. What do you want?"
"A burger and fries. I don't want to eat healthy right now."
I stop at a drive-through, then drop her off. "Pick you up at eight?"
"Yeah. See you then." She runs into her apartment building before I can kiss her. She told me she didn't want me getting near her because she was too sweaty, but I don't care. I would've kissed her anyway.
Today didn't turn out like I thought it would, but it ended up being good. I saw yet another side of Kira. The caring and generous side that makes me like her even more.
I can really see this going somewhere, lasting more than a few weeks or a few months. This thing with Kira could get serious. The only problem is, I'm not sure I'm ready for that.
Kira
After Austin dropped me off, I ate my burger and fries, then took a really long shower. I was covered in sweat and dirt. I must be comfortable with Austin because I didn't even care that he saw me like that. I was more concerned with helping those old people.
It wasn't how I thought we'd spend our afternoon, but it needed to be done. Harold would probably be in the hospital right now if Austin hadn't stopped to help. When he pulled the truck over, I didn't know what he was doing until I saw him kneeling by the old man.
It showed me a whole other side of Austin. I don't know many guys his age who would stop to help someone like that, and then stay there for hours, working for free.
Amber knocks on the bathroom door. "You almost done in there?"
"Yeah. Sorry, I didn't know you were home."
"I just got back from the store. I bought one of those dinners you told me about but I actually have to cook the meat."
She's making Matt dinner tonight. I totally forgot. I need to get out of here so she can get ready.
I shut the shower off. "I'll be just a minute."
"No rush. I have to figure out how to cook this meat. I'll be in the kitchen."
I towel off and go in my room and get dressed. Then I go in the kitchen, where every pot and pan we own is sitting out on the counter.
"Need some help?" I ask as I watch her read the label on the meat. It looks like two steaks in a vacuum-sealed package.
She sets them down. "I think I figured it out."
I look over at the kitchen table, which is covered in a white tablecloth and topped with two white candles and a card with the menu written on it.
"Wow, you even wrote out the menu."
She laughs. "I figured I'd go all out as long as I'm making dinner."
I pick up the menu, which is written on a piece of thick, white card stock. It's written in calligraphy, that fancy handwriting with all the loopy letters. "I didn't know you could write like this."
"I taught myself last year but I never use it."
"Then why'd you want to learn?"
"Because it's beautiful." She takes the card from me. "Just look at the L." She points to it. "And the S." She runs her hand over it. "Can you imagine getting a letter written like this?"
"Nobody writes letters anymore."
"I know. But they should. People need to start writing letters again."
Amber loves letters, or the idea of them. She's never actually received one, but she likes the idea of someone taking the time to write down their thoughts, especially a guy. If a guy ever wrote her a love letter, she'd probably marry him on the spot. She used to tell me that if she ever met her soulmate she'd write him a letter, and if he wrote her back, it would confirm they're meant to be with each other. It's completely crazy, and I told her that, but she's a hopeless romantic so she still believes it could happen if she met the right person. That person obviously isn't Matt, because as far as I know, she's never written him a letter.
She sets the menu back on the table and looks me up and down. "You're not wearing that tonight, are you?"
I have on shorts and a t-shirt. "No, but what do you think I should wear?"