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A few hours later, I waited patiently
as John opened the door after the bell rang. I stood a little further
back behind John with my hands shoved in my sweater pockets. John had
called Rafael over to pick me up before his client came so we could
leave to check out his place where I would be staying for the two weeks
John and Emera would be gone.
Waiting patiently behind the door was a dark-skinned man with a scruffy
black beard. He bared a lot of resemblance to Emera, especially his
green eyes. He was a little bit on the heavier side, with muscles about
to rip out of his shirt. He embraced John in a friendly greeting and
then turned to me.
“And this must be the infamous Shuro,” he said with a wide grin,
extending a hand. He had the faintest Spanish accent, exactly like
Emera’s.
I leaned in and shook it, his sweaty palms of a mechanic almost crushing
my own with their firm grip. I offered a tight smile, then pulled my
aching hand back. “Hi.”
“John’s told me a lot about you. You’re quite the celebrity these days.”
I scratched my neck and eyed John. “Really? Uh… thanks,” I said, even
though I wasn’t quite sure his comment was in need of any gratitude.
“So, you ready to get going, kiddo?”
I already disliked him. He spoke to me with sheer friendliness and
enthusiasm and treated me like I was still in preschool. People like
that generally bothered me, since their attitude always seemed staged.
“Uh, yeah.” I eyed John again, who seemed to notice my irritations. He
gave me a wink in return.
I passed John and went out the door, spotting Rafael’s car in the
driveway. It was a copper Chevrolet truck with dirt and grime built up
on it. If it was soaped down, it would not have been too shabby at all.
I waited by the car while John and Rafael exchanged conversation.
Rafael unlocked the car while he came down the steps of John’s place,
and the door shut behind him.
Once in the car, Rafael shoved the keys in the ignition and started up
the engine.
He was about to say something but I cut him off. “What was John telling
you about me?”
Rafael examined his review mirror and slowly backed out. “How are you so
sure he was talking about you?”
“Because I left the house. Everyone always blabs after the person they
want to talk about leaves the room.”
Rafael chuckled and shook his head. His hair was jet black, cropped
short and he wore a worn brown leather jacket, fit for autumn weather in
Illinois. His skin, a light bronze, was shadowed in the car. The weather
wasn’t anywhere near sunny, and tiny raindrops flickered on the
windshield. “If you’re really concerned,” he started with that faintest
accent of his. “He wants you to go back to school when he leaves.”
I gave a disgusted look. “Yeah, right.”
“It’s true, you should. I agree with him.”
“Look, you don’t even know me. I’m not going back to school. That place
is like a torture chamber made for kids to think they’re learning when
actually their minds are slowly being ripped apart by the teachers who,
by the way, think they’re all so high and mighty.”
“Why do you hate it so much?”
“Look… Interaction —” I shook my head. “Just not my thing.”
“Who says you have to interact with anyone? It’s just to learn.”
I rolled my eyes, examining ongoing cars. “And you… sit around cars for
a living?”
I looked over at him and saw he had an irritated look on his face.
“Actually, I don’t sit, I fix. And just so you know my job requires a
mechanical engineering degree. I studied for over five years at
Carbondale University.”
There was nothing but silence after that, the rain pattering on the
windows of the copper Chevrolet. I returned in my position of gazing out
the car window.
• • •
Rafael’s house was normal and plain, nothing special, and nowhere near
as big and well-kept as John’s place. There was something welcoming
about the mess when I walked in, I just couldn’t put my finger on it. He
apologized for the rubbish everywhere but I honestly could care less.
There were magazines and remote controls sprawled over the living room
table, a jumble of color. Even looking at the mess I could still tell he
had attempted to clean the place up before I got there. There was a wool
blanket that looked almost hand-made that was folded neatly over the top
of the couch that I guessed would be lolled anywhere any normal day. I
was starting to wonder why I was even supposed to be there. It’s not
like John had hopped on his plane to Paris yet or anything.
Rafael offered me a seat on his couch and a drink. I found the whole
situation rather uncomfortable, considering I only met this man not even
an hour ago, and I shifted in my seat as he fetched the drinks for us.
“Well, make yourself at home; you‘re going to be staying here for the
next few weeks.”
“Two weeks,” I clarified, rather agitatedly.
“Two.” Rafael agreed and sat down next to me.
“What’s the point of this?”
“So we can communicate. Exchange conversation. Get to know each other,”
Rafael gestured with his hands.
I took a sip of the iced tea he handed me earlier. “Hi,” I muttered
sarcastically.
“Well, John told me you don’t speak much, so I must say I was expecting
the silent treatment.”
I rubbed my hands together awkwardly.
“He also told me it takes someone a while before breaking that outer
concrete wall you’ve built yourself, but it’s more than worth it when
they do.”
I gazed at the mess of a table, though the thoughts in my head were far
from being about old bills and coasters. “So John’s been blabbing, huh?”
“He has,” Rafael nodded. “So, you’re fifteen, right?” His accent sounded
thicker when he said my age for some reason.
“Yeah. I think I remember John saying you were thirty-two?”
“Yes, I am. You’re looking for a job, right?”
I nodded.
“I’ve got you covered,” Rafael looked rather pleased with himself. “I’ll
show you around the shop once John has left and you’re settled in.”
I nodded. “Well… thanks.”
The rest of the day was pretty slow-paced. He showed me the room I would
be staying in; it wasn’t really anything special. The whole house was
small, one floor, carpeted and cluttered; it made John’s seem like a
manor. The small room set up for me was ill-lit, with beige slat blinds
drawn shut. There was a single bed in the middle and a small wooden
chair in one corner. A lamp sat on a night table beside the bed, and
that was basically it. Rather plain if you ask me.
“I never had any use for this room before now,” Rafael said, his hands
in his back pockets.
“So you just happened to have an extra bed?” I said, sitting down and
testing it out.
“Actually it was Emera’s old bed, back when we still had our apartment
together. I just kept it for my guest room when she and John married.”
• • •
Since it was nearing dinner time, Rafael decided to ring up John while I
was sprawled out on his couch watching some game show. I heard Rafael
saying a few things like how John’s meeting went, what we were going to
do for supper and how things were going over here. I rapidly sat up
straighter when he hung up, anxious to know what they had discussed.
“John’s meeting was over about two hours ago. He said he was getting
some paperwork done when I called.”
I suddenly felt a rush of guilt and I didn’t quite know why. Was John
taking advantage of my not being there? Perhaps it was because he
enjoyed being rid of me that he hadn’t called sooner.
“He says it’s okay if we head back now, though,” Rafael added.
I thought about it before saying “no. If John would rather work that’s
fine, I’ll stay here.” The words stung as they escaped my mouth. I
wanted to take them back, since I’d rather be with John any day over
Rafael, but not when John didn’t want me around. I would have felt too
guilty if we went back now.
“He says it’s okay, Shuro. Don’t worry about it, let’s go.”
I couldn’t fight against that, so I gathered myself and headed straight
outside for Rafael’s copper truck.
The familiar face of a man with piercing blue eyes and light brown hair
and an award-winning grin greeted us at the front door of a spacious
loft-styled house, letting the scent of spices escape the warm
atmosphere of the inside.
John Gillis stepped aside as we entered his home, shutting the door and
the cold breeze out behind us.
“I’m making Mexican,” John grinned as he paced back toward the kitchen.
“No way!” I exclaimed. “John Gillis actually cooking something?”
It was rare that John prepared meals himself instead of ordering out.
Emera was usually the one to cook.
“Hey, I cook.” He flipped around some peppers in a pan, which made a
loud sizzling noise. “And I’ll have you know Mexican is my specialty.”
I smirked, jumping a little to sit at the tall island table in the
middle of the kitchen. Rafael followed, still standing, but resting his
hands on the table on which I rested my elbows.
“How did things go with Barry?” Rafael asked John.
“Quite well, actually. His wife doesn’t want him to press charges
against the man who prescribed him the drug but he insists.”
“Which man?” I asked. “What happened to him?” I switched my gaze from
Rafael over to John’s back.
“Barry’s doctor was temporarily replaced by his assistant, who
accidentally prescribed him the wrong drug for his panniculitis. That
man’s mistake almost cost Barry his life.”
I blinked. John still had his back to me, flipping peppers. He turned to
check my reaction and smiled when he noticed my widened eyes.
“Why didn’t Barry’s doctor check the prescription before the idiot gave
it to him?” I asked.
John had already turned back and continued preparing the meal. “That’s
what I was concerned about as well, considering the assistant was still
in the process of studying medicine, and a patient’s doctor should
always double check it’s the right drug before it is prescribed. But
Barry’s doctor was out of town for a while and Barry needed the drugs
right away. It was a sheer mistake. The assistant states he never made
this mistake before and offers his sincerest apologies to Barry.”
I nodded, considering what would have happened if Barry had died because
of that man. Things would be a lot worse; John would still have to take
things to court to represent a dead man, making things a hell of a lot
more complicated.
John’s Mexican meal was some of the best food I had ever tasted. My mom
made it for me once or twice and I had almost forgotten what it tasted
like. Every meal I ate at John’s house was like having it for the first
time anyway. He made it in a different way that it shook my taste buds
around on my tongue. That’s a good thing, I swear. Rafael seemed to
think otherwise, considering he has Mexican blood and probably knows
what it should taste like when made correctly, but it didn’t matter.
I counted down the minutes left until seven tonight, praying the hours
would last forever. It’s not that I hated Emera or anything, hell I may
even be a little envious of her, but there was something so
enlightening, so powerful and so compelling about being alone with John
that made me wish Emera was staying up north another week.
As if right on cue, the phone rang and it happened to be Emera. John’s
voice was concerned and possibly a little nervous as well. “Really?
…Completely shut down? ... Wow.” He paced back and forth and gestured
with his hands a lot. “That’s pretty crazy. So when do you think—?
…Okay.”
I continuously munched on my rice until he hung up, ending their
conversation with “take it easy, honey,” and “I love you.”
“That Em’?” Rafael asked after he swallowed down a huge bite of rice and
peppers.
John remained standing, his eyes wide as he ran a hand through his hair.
“It was. Apparently there’s a freak storm in upstate New York. The
highways are flooded and closed down. The police said it’s too dangerous
to travel, especially at this hour. She said it’s all over the news.”
John walked over to the living room and switched the T.V. on with the
remote.
I couldn’t exactly see anything from where I was sitting, so I walked
over with my plate and fork in-hand.
Sure enough, on Fox Chicago they were showing clips of the storm. A dark
highway was shown, the screen a bit foggy with humidity and mist. Cars
were jammed together at one end, a few slowly turning around from where
they came from. An anchorman spoke, giving the latest details of the
storm, wearing a navy rain coat with its hood tightly drawn around his
face. He had to shout over all the rain, thunder, cars honking and wind.
He gripped the microphone like it was a life preserver, speaking
straight to the camera.
“It looks like the storm came in from the upper East, coming down toward
Pennsylvania and soon West Virginia. It looks like it hit its peak right
here, right now. The power cables have burst as well in small towns in
Hamilton and Fulton, it won’t be long until it hits the area of
Montgomery. I advise everyone to stay inside, stay warm and stay
sheltered. Any plans of travelling must be cancelled for safety
precautions.”
I glanced over at John who was leaning his face on his hand, watching.
“That’s some crazy weather,” he said. “It’s weird; she said the weather
was perfect the whole weekend.”
Rafael turned his body in his seat and sipped a beer, asking John more
on what Emera had said.
The T.V. screen switched over to a lady safe in the comfort of the Fox
studio, speaking with another about the storm.
“Wow,” I muttered, sitting down on the leather couch in front of the
T.V. How much longer would Emera be gone for? I didn't bother asking,
but instead finished my meal with a secret triumph I tried to keep
hidden. |
