Page 103 of Demo
Slowly, I walk around the truck and head over to the passenger side of the cab. I have to grab a handlebar on the side while I put a foot on a high hitch-step and pull myself up, grabbing the door handle on my way. It swings open awkwardly, and I hoist myself inside.
No wonder he’s not wearing a coat, it’s hotter than holy hell in here! The heat is blasting through the vents with such a force it’s blowing my hair back. I wait approximately one minute before I reach over and turn the dial down, and relief immediately washes through me.
It smells sweet in here, like apples and cinnamon, and I see one of those air freshener clip things shoved into one of the vents.
I feel the truck rock a bit as Anthony gets the car secured in place, and I glance around the cab like the nosy bitch I am.
I see a picture clipped to his visor that looks like it could be of his family. Anthony is standing with one arm around a woman and the other holding a little kid on his hip. I can’t tell if it’s a boy or a girl, but he or she has short, wildly curly hair and is wearing footie Halloween pajamas. They all look happy.
The driver’s side door swings open, and Anthony jumps in with much more grace than I did. He slams the door, and since I turned the heat down, it’s eerily quiet in here. And awkward. He pulls his hat and gloves off and tosses them on the console between us. As he reaches over his shoulder for his seatbelt, he speaks.
“Good thing you didn’t drive on the flat. The rim looks fine. I can’t see where the puncture is, but you should be able to get it repaired or get a new tire put on in the morning.”
“Oh, great! Thanks.” I look at him. Then out the windshield. Then at my hands.
“You got someone who can take you to get a tire in the morning?”
“Uhhh,” I ponder this for a second, and then I let out a little laugh. “That’s kind of a loaded question. But the short answer is, I’ll figure it out.”
Anthony looks at me with no emotion. “Look, why don’t I drop the car off at a nearby shop, then I’ll drop you off at your place. In the morning, call the shop and tell them you left the car there, they can fix or replace the tire, and then all you have to do is get a ride there to pick it up.”
I’m nodding. “Yes, please. That’s … That’s a better plan than whatever the hell I thought I was going to do.”
“Where do you live?” Anthony asks as he picks up his phone and pulls up a map application.
I give him my address, which he types into the phone. “OK, I see where you’re at.” He scrolls around the neighborhood on the map for a second. “So, it looks like there’s a place just a block from you, but I’ve never dealt with them before. A few blocks north is a shop I use all the time. I know they’ll be fair with you—”
“Take it there,” I interrupt him, and he looks at me. “I trust your judgment.”
“OK,” he says, then drops his phone in the cup holder and pulls away from the curb. There are several moments of silence before I hear his voice again. “You cold? I can adjust the heat.”
“Actually, I turned it down when I got in here. I’m sorry, that was probably rude.”
“That’s fine. I had just come from another call and was outside for a bit and was freezing so I cranked it.” Anthony is driving with his left hand, and his right elbow is on the console between us. He is leaning onto his elbow but, because the cab is so big, he’s not at all invading my space.
There is more awkward silence, then he speaks again. “For someone who writes a lot of words, you sure don’t speak many.”
I clear my throat, then bring a hand up to my neck, and I’m sure he can feel the nerves radiating off me. “Oh, there are plenty of words I want to speak, I’m just not sure if I’m supposed to.” He gives me the side-eye before looking back at the road and turning down a side street. “You know, the lawyers would probably advise against it.”
Anthony shifts in his seat. “The lawsuit has been dropped.”
Because I can’t stand the idea of lying to him, or even faking surprise, I confess, “I know. I talked to the police chief.”
He nods.
“But, also, I wasn’t sure what you want, or don’t want to hear from me. I guess I thought maybe I’ve said enough, as far as you and your family are concerned.”
Anthony sits up straighter and rubs his chin with the hand that’s not on the steering wheel. He’s silent for another moment before he quietly speaks. “Jerome was a good kid. There were thirteen years between the two of us, so we were close in a different way than I imagine siblings who are closer in age are. Our dad left when he was only five, so I tried to play a fatherly role for him. I think that may have been more to my benefit than his, sometimes. I needed to feel useful, to both Jerome and my mom.” He looks over to me, then back at the road. “But then Janelle got pregnant, and my attention was focused elsewhere.”
“Is that her?” I point to the picture, and he nods.
“Yeah, that’s Janelle and Martine. Marty, for short.”
I smile. “I like that. You have a beautiful family.”
Now he smiles. “Thank you.” He turns down another side street, and I recognize where we are. We must be getting close to the shop.
“Janelle got pregnant when we were just dating. I knew I wanted to step up. I wanted our family. And that meant I had to back off Jerome. I saw him changing, saw his personality shift, saw the guys he was hanging out with. I tried to talk to him, tried to spend more time with him, especially since he was turning into a young man. He was a teenager, and he had no one. My mom was working two jobs. Jerome just kind of fell through the cracks. God, that sounds so terrible when I say it out loud.” Anthony scratches his head and I hear his fingernails scrape across his short-cropped hair. “But it’s true. The poor kid just …”
