Begin to Begin (7 page)

We laugh, hug, and say our goodbyes. On my way home I think about the crazy day this turned out to be. I couldn't tell Amelia that I did feel something in Dalton's presence. I'm not sure what it was—it wasn't anything I ever felt before. When I was with Benji, I was always warm.
He
made everyone feel that way, though. I was happy, always in a good mood. Anytime I did feel down in the dumps, he would come close and it made everything better. He was my sunshine. But Dalton … I barely know him but when I look in his eyes, I know he is nothing like Benji ever was.

Once I'm home and make myself a sandwich, I settle in on the couch for a few minutes to eat. I hate getting home and going straight to be so I turn on the news and vaguely listen as I eat and look through today's mail. My head jerks up when I hear them talking about an attempted assault that recently happened.

"The assault took place on Fifteenth Avenue Friday night. If anyone has any information, please contact the police at 555-1212.

“Once again, the witness said the man had a small tattoo of a gun on his left hand. He was approximately five foot eleven and weighed 180 pounds."

I stop listening. This can't be a coincidence. This is the night I was assaulted in the same area. There were no witnesses. Except Dalton.

I would be lying if I didn't say I was nervous about meeting Dalton today at his garage.

I'm
beyond
nervous for some reason.

Butterflies flutter around not only in my stomach, but also my chest. I've not interacted with any men like this since Benji’s death other than Joey, Cole, and customers. This feels different, and I'm not sure if I like it. But, there's no reason to think of it as more than it is. Just me, helping out someone that helped me out. I'm interested to find out as well whether he went to the police. Other than me, there were no other witnesses besides him.

After showering, I choose some dark jeans with a tank top and a thin green sweater thrown over it to wear. It's comfy and simple. I finish up eating some oatmeal and having my coffee when I glance at the clock. Ten o'clock shouldn't be too early to go to the garage. Or, at least, I hope not. I pick up my phone and shoot a text off to Dalton.

Marin: Good morning Dalton. Would it be too early to head out to the garage now?

Busying myself however I can, I rinse my dishes and throw a load of clothes in the washer while I wait for his reply. When I'm finished with my few household chores, I notice he has already texted me back.

Dalton: Not at all. I will be here all day.

I message him back and he sends me directions. It's not too far out of town, so it shouldn't take longer than twenty minutes to get there and the farmer's market is on the way. I haven't been there in such a long time and would love to start going again.

Just as I'm getting into my car, my phone rings. I look over at it and see that it's Amelia.

"Hey, chica," I answer.

"Hey. Don't leave yet. I'm coming with you."

I roll my eyes because I know she's being overprotective and maybe a tad bit nosey.

"No, you're not—"

"Marin. This guy could be a bad guy. You have no idea." I sigh into the phone.

“Last night you were ready for me to give you the dirty details of our passionate love making that never happened, and now you’re concerned that he’s a crazed lunatic?” She only sighs in response.

“I—”

"Please, Amelia. Let me do this. Let me learn how to be me again. The me without Benji." I will never move on if they don't let me. All I hear is how it's OK to move on but then everyone coddles me like I'm a small child.

She doesn't say anything so I continue on. "I'll be fine. I promise. I will text you when I get there and as soon as I get into my car to leave."

"Ugh.
Fine.
You're a big girl, I get it." Smiling, I know I've won this battle. It's a small one but one step forward. "Just … I love you, OK?"

"I love you too, Am. I will text you in a bit."

We say our goodbyes, and I punch in Dalton's address in my GPS.
OK, Marin, big girl panties. Time to put them on.

******

I ease my car down the pothole-ridden, dirt driveway and see the garage up ahead. It is definitely a mechanics’ garage. Nothing fancy. There is another short driveway to the left, and I notice a small yellow double wide home sitting at the end that has the appearance of being cute and homey. It seems to be well taken care of, and I wonder for a fleeting moment if that is where Dalton calls home.

The garage itself is much bigger than I expected. It reminds me more of a small warehouse with three large garage doors and an entrance door all on the front. In an effort not to be in the way if anyone shows up, I pull my car closer to the entrance door than the actual garage doors.

After I get out, I take a second to look around and get a better look at the area. It's a wonder anyone even knows this place exists. But places like this rely solely on their established customer base and word of mouth. The sign at the end of the road is pretty small, so I'm sure that doesn't help drum up anything new.
Maybe I can show Dalton how to create a website.

I was nervous when I first left the house this morning, but now I'm getting excited and think this might actually be fun. It feels good to step outside my little bubble every now and then.

Not sure whether I should knock or just walk in, I don't get a chance to make the decision. A man inside, who is not Dalton, I might add, spots me and slowly walks to the door.

"Well, hello there, pretty lady." He greets me with a smile. I grin at the streak of grease smeared across his face. He must be one of Dalton's employee's. He’s a very good looking guy, and he definitely knows it. I can see how his confidence would be a turn on to some women, but that’s not something that’s ever been attractive to me.

"Hi. I'm here to see Dalton. He's expecting me." His smile grows.

"Yo! D-Man! Your lady friend is here!" he yells behind him then turns back to me. "He's in the office cleaning up."

"Thank you," I answer as Dalton appears from a door in the back of the garage. Goodness, he looks good. He has on an old pair of jeans that hang low on his hips and a tight …
very
tight black t-shirt.

"Marin. Come on back here and see if you can breathe some life into this old dinosaur." I'm guessing he's talking about the computer. I turn to the man that greeted me at the door.

"It was nice meeting you …" I trail off waiting for his name.

"Liam. Besides Dalton, I'm the other mechanic here. You could say I’m the better mechanic, too.”

“Shut it, Liam!” Dalton calls from the office.

Liam laughs and turns back to me. “If you guys need my assistance, let me know." I nod and make my way back to the office where Dalton is waiting.

"Well, this is it. Nothing fancy. Actually, the office is still pretty gross and dirty even though I tried to clean up some." He looks down rubs the back of his neck, obviously embarrassed.

"It's a garage, Dalton. I don't expect a fancy office like you would find in the city. But …" I can't help the laughter that escapes me. "Please tell me this dinosaur isn't the computer you were talking about?" It's probably the oldest computer I have ever seen—an IBM in that dirty, white-beige color all old computers sported. Does IBM still actually make computers?

"Yep, that it is! I told you it was old." He walks over to it and turns it on and it makes a pitiful noise. I laugh again because there is no way he can accomplish what he needs to using this computer.

"Dalton, stop." He looks up at me from behind the ancient machine.

"What?"

"You can't use this." I grab my purse off the chair I threw it on. "Come on. We are going to the office supply store to purchase you a shiny new computer."

"I had a feeling I was going to need a new one. But you aren't buying anything. We will go get the credit card from my Uncle Mel. He lives in the house across the driveway." So, I guess that isn't Dalton's house. Maybe he doesn't even live here. "Let me run upstairs and change my shirt first, though. You can wait in here with Liam or come upstairs with me."

Not sure what to do, I glance out in the garage and notice Liam is on his cell phone. "I guess I will come with you, if that’s OK." I smile awkwardly at him. He nods and I follow him out and around the side of the building and up the steps. He opens the door to a small but tidy apartment.

"Welcome," he says as he spreads his arm out like Vanna White. I laugh and sit down at one of the chairs at the small table. He walks over to his bed and grabs a shirt from a bin next to it before walking to the bathroom. "I'll be right out."

Taking in my surroundings, I don't notice a single touch of feminine in this place which leaves me to assume that he is single. He sure doesn't seem like the type to like to decorate.

Dalton walks back out into the small kitchen area and he looks refreshed in his new t-shirt. Plain white this time instead of the plain black he had on beforehand. No frills. I like that.

"Ready to meet my Uncle Mel?" he asks with a bit of a frown.

"Absolutely. He can't be that bad."

"Nah, he's not bad. Just older and he has his grumpy days." He looks at me smiling. "Which are most days."

I laugh and can’t help wonder what I’m walking into.

We make our way back outside in silence and walk beside each other down the short driveway to the small house.

"So the garage has been in your family for a while then?" I ask.

"Yeah, it was originally built by my grandpa to start with. He passed away before I was even born from a car accident. My Uncle Mel worked at the garage when Gramps passed away so he took it over. My grandma signed everything over to him. She moved to Miami after that."

"Why Miami?" I only ask because Miami seems more of a city for the party going younger crowd.

"Her sister was there. She has since passed away but Gran loves it there. I go visit her every couple of months. She's eighty-five and acts more like a thirty-year-old. Constantly on the go. I think she might even have herself a boyfriend." We laugh as we reach the door to the house.

"She sounds fun."

"You have no idea," he says while rolling his eyes dramatically. "Uncle Mel! You in here?" he calls into the house.

"Yeah, boy. Back here. Whatcha need?" His uncle makes his way out of the back bedroom to the living room we are standing in. He walks with a cane, and I can tell that he’s in pain but most likely too stubborn to take any medication that could help.

"Uncle Mel, this is Marin. My friend I talked to you about the other day. Marin, Uncle Mel." He smiles the smallest of smiles.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Marin. Do you happen to have a last name? I've lived around these parts of Florida my whole life. Maybe I know your family."

"Levine. But I'm not originally from here. Came here for college at CFU. My family is originally from Georgia."

"Ah, I see. Well, no matter. It's still nice to meet you." He wobbles slowly over to his recliner and plops down on it. "So, what brings you two over here to this messy house of mine?"

"Marin has so graciously volunteered to take me to get a new computer for the shop."

"New computer? Pfft. There's nothing wrong with the one you have now. Why can’t you just use it?" He waves him off, and I decide to speak up. I haven't gotten a good read yet on Uncle Mel, so hopefully I'm not overstepping my bounds.

"Actually, sir—"

"Mel, or Uncle Mel. You don't need to call me sir, sweetheart."

"Um, OK. Mel, the computer in the office is pretty old. There really isn't anything I can show Dalton that can help him run the garage—at least the business side of it—more smoothly on that computer. He needs something that some of the new programs that would be advantageous to his business."

He studies me intensely for a minute and then sighs. "Yeah, you're probably right. Dot bought that thing back when Dalton was still tightening the screws on his tricycle. Never did use the damn thing much.” He motions to the hallway. “Dalton, go grab the money bag out of my room."

Dalton heads back down the hallway to the bedroom leaving me with his uncle.

Within a few seconds, Dalton returns, money bag in hand. He holds it out to Uncle Mel and reaches in to pull out a credit card. "Here you go, boy. It's about time you take over the money too, especially since you'll have you a new fancy machine to do everything on. And we did have a deal anyway. Take over everything completely in exchange for—"

Dalton cuts him off and Uncle Mel looks irritated but doesn’t continue with what he was saying.

"OK. Whatever you say. I know what we discussed." He turns to me then. "You ready?" I'm not sure what Uncle Mel was getting ready to say, but Dalton obviously doesn't want me to know. I'm totally OK with that, though; I don't need to know his personal business to help him out.

"Yes. I'm ready."

We walk out and toward the cars. I'm assuming that we are going to take my car but he walks over to an older, somewhat falling apart Bronco.

"Hop in," he says as he opens the passenger door for me.

I can't help but ask, "Are you sure this thing is safe?"

"Ha Ha. Very funny. I can assure you she is very safe. She just isn't very pretty … yet." He pats the dash and winks before shutting the door.

I have to admit this is a pretty cool vehicle. It has personality unlike my little gas efficient car. Which happens to be the main reason I bought it. You know, care about the environment and all that jazz.

Dalton jumps in the driver’s side and starts it up. "So lead the way," he says.

Aside from my directions, our trip to the store is spent enveloped in an awkward silence. I feel his eyes glance in my direction several times, but I'm too caught up in what exactly I should be feeling right now to make any small talk.

As we pull into the parking lot of the office supply store that is closest to his garage, I pull out my phone and shoot Amelia a quick text.

Me: Shopping for a new computer for Daltons garage. Talk later.