“Excuse me, Mr. McLean, but...”
“Don’t call me that. Call me...,” and he hesitates. He hesitates as if he isn’t sure what I should call him, and I find that strange. “Just call me Alex. Or A.J.”
He doesn’t look at me when he says that, he just stays focused on his coffee, on the smoke rising from his cigarette.
“Okay. Well, I need to leave in about five minutes to take my daughter to school,” I explain. “I shouldn’t be very long, it’s not far, and she’ll be taking the bus from...”
“Whatever. That’s fine,” he says. Not in a rude way, not in an offhanded way, either, but as if it really doesn’t bother him that I need to take some personal time within the first hours of my formal working day.
“Is there anything you’d like me to get for you while I’m out?” I offer, figuring that it might be better to not come back empty handed.
“No, uh, well, yeah, could you pick me some of these?” he asks, brandishing his cigarette pack. Marlboro Lights. He’s in luck. I take my own pack, reserving one for myself, and place it on the table.
“Here, have these until I get back.”
For the first time this morning we make eye contact. He still has sleep in his eyes, little pockets of ‘sand’, tear tracks, in the corners. Other than that, they’re brown. They’d be nice looking if it looked as if he had gotten some sleep, I suppose, but right now they just looked tired.
“Damn.” That’s all he says, then he turns back to the window.
“I won’t be very long,” I promise, and then I’m out the door, hoping that Tish has remembered my bag because I didn’t. She’s waiting for me at the car with my bag in her hand and a look on her face that reminds me why I love her. Beside the fact that I just love her. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I say, rushing to get into the car and praying that it will start without a problem.
“Yeah, I thought you might want it,” she says.
Did I mention that she’s a very bright girl?
~~**~~**~~***~~**~~**~~
I’m longer at the school than I plan to be. There’s parking to take into consideration. Then there’s the omnipresent hospitality that seems to extend from every corner of this place. I sit and have coffee with the principal. I sit and have coffee with the vice principal and the guidance counselor, and with the woman that’s in charge of new admissions. Tish was taken away into the bowels of the school by a student escort, and I’m told that she’ll be coming home with the same escort on the bus, because the escort, a sweet looking little girl named Kim, lives in our neighborhood. Kim has a mouthful of braces and a very open smile and I’m smelling the beginnings of a friendship as she and Tish walk down one of the corridors.
By the time I can drag myself away from the school I’m at least half an hour later than I wanted to be, and I race to the convenience store at the gas station where I had picked up my cigarettes yesterday and buy a carton. I might as well be prepared, by all accounts, Mr. McL... Alex, is not a person of preparedness.
When I get back to the house the stable of cars is still there, unmoved. Alex is gone from the kitchen, though. The only other changes I note are that the coffee is finished, he managed to put the milk carton away, and there are a few additions to my shopping list. Candy. Deodorant. Toothpaste. Three words written in a near illegible hand, but I manage. No brands, though, no specifics. Just three words that mean nothing to me at all.
The dogs are still outside. They’re lolling on the flagstones that flank the pool, warming themselves in the sun. One of them has vomited something up, too, and I imagine that they’ve been drinking the pool water. I’ll hose it down later. Right now I’m more concerned in hosing down the kitchen. When I’m cleaning something it always leaves my mind free for other things, so I’m counting on a burst of brilliance when it comes to Mr. McL... Alex’s personal needs that he found pressing enough to add to my list. And I’m so intent emptying the contents of drawers so that I not only know that everything in them is spotless, but that I know where everything is, that I, once again, do not hear my employer enter the room.
“You’re back,” is all he says.
“I’m sorry it took so long,” I tell him, but I don’t stop what I’m doing. I also add ‘liner paper’ to my ever growing list. Alex sits down at the table again and bends over to tie his shoes. They look brand new. Everything he’s wearing looks like he just took the tags off. He’s dressed for golf, and I think to myself that he would look a lot better if the brand new clothes he was wearing weren’t several sizes too big for him. And he’s wearing black. That has to be hot in sun like this, because even though it’s just before ten in the morning, the warmth of the day is creeping up.
“Did it?” Again, he seems unconcerned. “Thanks for the cigs.”
“My pleasure, do you have a moment before you leave?”
“Yeah, sure,” he says, and I hear him lighting up while I get my pad.
“You added a few things here, and...”
“I know, I just ran out of that stuff and...”
“I need to know the brands.”
He looks at me for a long moment, then breaks out into a laugh that’s more of a cackle.
“You must think I’m an idiot,” he says. I say nothing, because at the moment, that question is still out with the jury. “I, uh, I really don’t care. The deodorant can be just about anything as long as it’s unscented and, uh, toothpaste, hunh? Mint.”
“Tartar control? Whitening?”
“Yeah, all that. That sensitive stuff, if they’ve got it.”
“I’m sure they’ve got it.” I make notes. I think to myself that here is a person who has no clue what they want. I’m almost not going to bother about candy and just bring back any old thing, but he offers me a nugget of information.
“I like sweet and sour-ish candy. Something to suck on. And jellybeans. Anything but the black ones. And can you get ice cream? Cookies and cream?”
“I can get you anything you want, all you have to do is let me know what you want,” I tell him, keeping my voice in the tone I reserve for Tish when she’s being difficult with me and I don’t want to yell. “Maybe you could tell me about supper.” He looks at me with a blank expression, so I continue on. “What would you like for supper tonight? And lunch today? And breakfast tomorrow?” This is like pulling teeth.
“I, hell, well, forget about lunch, I won’t be here, and supper...I don’t know if I’ll be home for supper. I usually grab something between meetings and stuff. I like French Toast for breakfast, though.”
“Syrup on that? Maple? Corn?”
“No syrup.”
“Do you like fish?”
“Not really. I like hamburgers. Pizza. Things like that. I’m not real fussy.”
I’m shopping for a child. At that moment I know that if I loaded the place with instant macaroni and cheese, frozen pizzas in any variety, and forty pounds of ground round I could be done. The mother in me kicks in, though, and it’s too terrible and powerful an urge to overcome. I will buy what he’s requested, and I will by things I know to be nutritious and flavorful, and we will play a little game together of try and reject.
“Why don’t I surprise you?”
“Cool, I like surprises.” He seems genuinely eager at the prospect.
“Are there any other personal items you need, or you’re running low on?”
“Maybe, I don’t know. You can have a look around, get what you think I need,” he says. I sense he’s become a little bored, but I hear someone at the door. I think, but I’m not sure, that Alex has heard the approach of a car, but I never heard a thing,
“Yo, A.J., you ready?!” a voice carries through the house.
“Be right there!” Alex bellows in response. “I gotta go.”
“One more question, the dogs...”
“You can feed them now. They get wet stuff now and dry stuff later. The food’s in the laundry room, and can you do some laundry? I’m about out of...”
“Not a problem. I’ll see you later.”
“I probably won’t be in until late.”
“Well, I’ll be here,” I assure him. He gives me a funny look.
“Yeah, I guess you will,” he says under his breath, and then he’s gone.
I’m glad he’s gone.
~~**~~**~~***~~**~~**~~
~~**~~**~~***~~**~~**~~
Rene is talking and the radio in his car is blaring and I’m not paying attention to either of them I’m smoking and have my eyes closed and I’m glad that I’m out of the house and going to be outdoors today.
I feel as if I’ve just taken a test and flunked it big time.
I tried, I really did. I was quiet without being nasty about it. I wasn’t demanding, hell, I didn’t have anything to be demanding about, the lady pulled coffee out of thin air for me, and cigarettes, too, my brand no less. SHE was the one who let the dogs out, I didn’t have to do that today, and I won’t be late for golf because SHE’LL be feeding them and I’m free. I’m completely free to spend my day without thinking about anything but my crap golf game and if they’re going to serve Krispy Kremes at the AA meeting this afternoon, shit, I should have told her to get some.
The coffee was good. I usually just grab some at the Dunkin Donuts, or the gas station, wherever, but hot coffee at home, I haven’t had that without Juliette making it in a long time. Hell, I even made sure I was dressed and everything before she came back, so I wouldn’t knock her out with my breath or B.O. I even shoved all my laundry down the chute.
How come I feel like such a jerk? Probably because of the deodorant thing, the toothpaste. I mean, I don’t care about the brand so much, I really don’t. I’ve been stuck in places so many times where I’ve had to borrow something, or grab whatever was convenient, it doesn’t really matter. But she doesn’t know that. I know that she doesn’t know that and I acted like she could read my mind or something, which is absolutely... stupid. Christ.
“What’s eatin’ you?” Rene asks. I just shake my head. Nothing’s ‘eatin’ me. I just don’t like it when people don’t like me, and I don’t think Chevron likes me.
And I don’t know why.
~~**~~**~~***~~**~~**~~
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© 2003 Chandrah, Inc.
© 2003 (*> Baby Bird Productions, Inc.
