Page 6 of Needing His Touch
“Take your time, but the next time, I’m bringing my truck. Either that, or I’m going to need a damn step stool.” He gives me grief anytime he can. It keeps him youthful. My truck isn’t jacked up or on big tires, and it damn sure isn’t squatted like some of the kids have running around these days. It’s a diesel, bigger than most trucks, and comes with a different suspension kit. There are running boards that slide out when you open the door, but Gramps refuses to use them. Stubborn old goat.
“I’ll run to the store later to get you a squatty potty, too.” He turns around, gives me a look I was once scared of when I was a snot-nosed teenager. Now I just smile.
“You do that, and I’ll put laxatives in the next dinner I cook you.”
“Fine, have it your way. A walker instead.” He shakes his head, grumbles under his breath, calling me a dickhead, and I laugh at his antics. It’s not until he shuts the passenger door that I close my eyes, the back of my head meets the headrest, and I think about everything Carsynn. How I’m going to convince her to give me some kind of a chance, though with the pretty blush and the small looks I caught, that may not take too much. The one factor that concerns me is I’m her landlord. I’m hoping she’ll be okay with it, and if she’s not, I’ll sign the damn lease over to Gramps’ name, allowing him to handle it from here on out. Then there’s getting the bay started and ordering the new tow truck. Those two items will be the easiest: a few phone calls, a hefty bill to pay, then it’ll get sorted. I don’t expect the new bay to be finished until spring. The weather is expected to turn worse tonight and into tomorrow. Which reminds me, when I take Gramps home, I need to chop some wood, or he’ll be without heat if the power goes out. Another reason I wish he’d have moved in with me or into the apartment, though I guess it’s a good thing now he didn’t, or Carsynn would be out of a place to live. Still, the generator only runs my house. Fuck, I should have added the apartment to it, but when I built the place, it was for family. I didn’t think I’d be renting it out, and Gramps could always walk the few hundred feet to my place if it got too bad.
I open my eyes. There’s no use sitting in my truck worrying about shit I need to get done. Now is the time to get started on my to-do list. I’d like to get my head back under the hood instead of under a car to hook up and haul off. My head finally on straight, I take the keys out of the ignition and follow my grandfather inside. I’m sure the bookkeeping is a damn nightmare. He’ll help me get caught back up and cuss me up a storm that I need to hire help. When he owned the place, Grams or my mom would help keep the shop stocked, the bills paid, and would work the front desk. Sometimes they’d call when a mechanic was too busy or didn’t have the balls enough to tell the customer they needed this or that and it would cost so much. It’s the one job I haven’t found the right candidate for. The thought gives me hives even now. So, for now, I’ll bide my time until I can’t take it anymore or until Gramps quits coming in every few weeks to give me a hand. I already know who he’ll suggest should I bring it up and, hell, maybe this time he’s right. It’s also another way to tie Carsynn to me. That’s right, the thirty-two-year-old Gabe McCoy has plans, one that includes the pretty waitress being mine in every way possible—my wife, the mother of my children, and working right alongside me. Exactly where she belongs.
7
CARSYNN
I’m splurging today. Okay, maybe I’m not making a massive splurge, but I am getting a pair of sneakers. Not the box store special either, where they’re only twenty dollars and wear out in a few months, make your feet hurt because they have zero support. After my shift at the diner today, I counted my tips. I was left a rather large tip from Gabe. There was a reluctance on whether or not to spend the extra tip I don’t usually receive. Thirty dollars after he paid the bill was a lot. It also gave me a nice little cushion in order to splurge and not make me feel so bad. That’s why I also bought a cookie and a Coke once I walked into the mall. The last time I was here, it was for a phone and only my phone. There were no extra expenses allowed while I was trying to move into my new place. I was in and out, lickity split. I didn’t even stop and smell the fresh baked goods, or I’d be suckered in.
Olive saw me counting the money, staring at it in awe. The McCoys’ bill was barely twenty dollars, which meant he tipped more than double, and I was worried it was a mistake. She assured me there was no error on his part. After my shift was over, I asked Denny to make me a sandwich. I woofed my food down so fast I had hiccups for a good five minutes before I said my goodbyes to Olive and Denny. Nikki left after the morning rush as per usual. The drive home was downright cold. Winter is upon us, and if I didn’t make the trip today, I’d be up shit’s creek without a paddle. Plaine Hill, from what I’m told, keeps the roads cleared from snow. Ice, on the other hand, is a bit harder to control. The drive home from the diner was fast, the shower I took was at record speed, and then I was back on the road.
I slowly nibble on my chocolate chip cookie as I window shop, looking at the mannequins and the latest fashion trends. You know, those things most teenagers do. It seems I’m years late to the game. It’s probably why I’m enjoying it as much as I am right now. The sweaters, jackets, and jeans are all different shapes and sizes, the colors either bright or neutral; there’s no in between when it comes to outerwear. As for the jeans, a loser baggier style seems to be the only thing trending in the same direction as my own. I look down at my own jeans. They’re straight legged, lose all the way down, and maybe I’m more fashionable than I thought. Thank you to the last time I went to the thrift store along with the discount store before moving to New Hampshire. I paired my jeans with a long-sleeved Henley and a jacket that’s a smidge too small in the chest area. I’ll for sure need a thicker material, and one that zips up. What I have was good for Virginia, but now that I’m in a state that has a lot of winter storms, I’ll need thermals, a thick hat, gloves, good boots, and well, now I’m overwhelmed.One thing at a time, Carsynn.Sneakers first, then work on the rest. I make a mental note to look at the second-hand stores in Plaine Hill for a better winter jacket. I take the last bite of my cookie, mourning the fact that I consumed it entirely too fast. On my next grocery trip, I’m going to get ingredients to bake them at home. It’ll be my first foray into baking, and while there’s a bit of excitement at doing something new, I’m also worried I’ll screw them up.
I walk toward the shoe store, taking the last few sips of my soda, toss my cup and the cookie wrapper in the waste basket near the entrance of the store, and walk in. There’s a wall of shoes, different activity types, men’s, women’s, and kids’ areas, and now that feeling of being overwhelmed is amplified. Maybe I should have ordered them online instead of coming in person. It would have saved me gas money and the extra snack. I could have read reviews on what size to buy and which ones would work the best. Instead, I’m doing the exact opposite, not even going so far as to research what would be the best for me.
“Hi, I’m Taylor, can I help you with anything?” Usually, I’d shy away from help, but this is a whole new world, and I have no idea where to go from here. Plus, there are too many options to choose from.
“Hi, yes, please. This is a lot, and I don’t know where to begin. There are so many, and the colors, wow. Yeah, I need all the help I can get.” Apparently, word vomiting to a stranger as well as talking fast when I’m nervous is my go-to. This is weird considering my job, where I’m talking to strangers as well as my regulars daily. Maybe it’s the mall that has my weirdness creep out of me. Either way, I’m going to zip my damn lips after she leads me to the right place.
“That’s okay. I’m here to help. First of all, what is your main activity? Biking, running, weightlifting?” I shake my head. None of those pertain to me. Voluntarily working out would have never happened at my old job. Working doubles meant a lot of wear and tear on my body. There were some days I could barely make it from my car to the inside of the apartment without limping of some kind.
“I’m a waitress and stand on my feet for eight hours a day.” She taps her finger on her chin, thinking about what I said. I should have asked Olive what shoes she wears, though if memory serves me correctly, she usually goes for looks over comfort. We are not the same. She’s younger, trendier, has a great outlook on life. I’m older, go for affordable any day of the week, and am somewhat jaded. Alright, maybe not jaded. I do have a lot of apprehension when people do something out of the kindness of their heart. Childhood trauma is a bitch. The promise I made to myself sits at the forefront of my mind. When the time comes and I have children, I’ll make sure they never know what it’s like to experience the pain I grew up with.
“I have just the right ones for you. We get quite a few customers who are on their feet in retail. A lot like myself.” She winks and starts walking toward one of the walls for women. I look at Taylor’s shoes. Hers are cuter than the ones I currently wear on my feet, so maybe she knows her stuff. I follow her lead. She’s faster than I am, so I’m a few steps behind her. Apparently, when I’m not at work, I like to take my time, probably because I’ve never had a slower pace of life before and I’m currently loving it. “Okay, so, this section would work really well. Price point?”
I start to say, “Nothing over a hundred,” then re-evaluate that number knowing it’s not feasible in order to get something really good. “Under a hundred and fifty.”
“Perfect. Here are a couple of pairs.” Taylor shows me a black pair, which aren’t my favorite. Would the color be smart? Absolutely. Do I like them? No. Of course, the white pair catches my attention, and I have no problem reaching out when she hands them to me.
“Wow, they’re so lightweight.” I bend them and look inside, my hand hitting the arch support. “These. Do you have them in a size seven to try on?” I’m usually a six or six and a half. After years of being on my feet, I know they’ll swell, and you should be a size bigger.
“Let me go look in the back. I’ll be right back.” Refraining from looking at the sneaker in my hand is hard, specifically because of the price. I’m trying not to stress about it, to not think about what it’ll set me back and justify what I can do to pinch money here or there. My rent is inexpensive, my car is paid off, and I’ve managed to keep comprehensive insurance on it. Basically, the minimal I could possibly have to keep the monthly payment down. Plus, my car gets me from point A to point B. It’s nothing special, it runs, has heat, a radio, and a recent oil change. If it were to break down, I’d sadly have to junk it, unless it only needed a few hundred dollars’ worth of work. My grocery bill isn’t much. Nikki and Denny keep me well-fed, so I can afford to go a little more on the shoes. It was only when I started thinking about needing winter gear that my chest started tightening with anxiety.
“Here you go. The last pair in your size.” Taylor returns, calming my overthinking self trying to put me in a tailspin.
“Perfect, I appreciate your help. A lot.” I sit down on the bench. It’s time to take off my shoes. This pair isn’t my work shoes because yuck. I put on a pair of canvas sneakers, not a lot of support or warmth, which wasn’t smart considering the temperature only reached the low fifties today. Tonight is when the weather is supposed to really dip low, and I’m hoping to be back in town before that happens.
“Anytime. I’ll let you try those on and see how you like them. I’ll be right back.” Taylor leaves me to my own devices. I slide one foot into the new shoe. My eyes close when I feel the support hit my high arch. There’s no way I’m not getting these sneakers. I’ll eat ramen for a month to make up of it if need be. I slide my other foot inside and walk around the store a bit, already knowing with these shoes, my lower back won’t be killing me, my feet won’t ache near as much, and maybe I won’t need to soak in a bath nearly every day just to ease some of the pain. However, that’s not the only reason I enjoy my oversized tub and burn my skin during hot bath time. That would be my book, especially with a certain duke to keep me company.
“Do you like them?” Taylor asks, meeting me where I’ve been walking around in the ultra-luxurious shoes.
“I love them.” A huge smile spreads across my face. “I’ll take them.” I more than likely look like a loony tune with how cheerful I am.
“Great news! Is there anything else you need that I can help you with?”
“Nope, this is all. Let me just take these off, and I’ll meet you at the cash register.” Taylor nods, and I walk back to where I started. It’s time for me to put my other shoes back on. I don’t want to wear these out just yet. Plus, I need to get back to Plaine Hill before the sun starts setting, and since I walked around the mall longer than I anticipated, it’s about time I move my booty. The last thing I need to do is drive in the dark when rain is supposed to come along with frigid freaking temperatures. No thanks.
I quickly transfer the new shoes back into the box, slide my sneakers back on, and carry my purchase to the cash register. My next stop is home, where I can snuggle and relax for the rest of the night.
8
GABE