My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero (6 page)

His jeans are clean, but well worked in.

“You’re the typical guy’s guy,” I decide.

He looks down at his attire and nods. “Now I can see why you’re an author. You’re a genius. So observant.”

The smile on his face raises my eyebrows and I straighten my back.

Okay, he asked for it.

“You do physical labour every day, even though technically you are supposed to just be delegating, but you can’t let other people do all the hard work. Which means that you would never hire anyone to do anything when there is even a remote possibility that you could do it yourself. You like action movies and thrillers, and the only time you would ever consider a chick flick is if you had upset a girl or were trying to lift her spirits. Your favourite sport is hockey: you cheer for the Toronto Maple Leafs, but in the end you’ll watch any sport if it’s on TV. Your beverage of choice is beer, which makes your food of choice chicken wings. Your idea of a vacation is to go fishing with the guys, and the only person you show your emotions to or for is your mom- though in this particular case it’s
my
mom.”

With every word I say I can see the smile slowly slipping from his face.

“Am I right?”

“Maybe a few things,” he concedes. “Though the Toronto Maple Leafs thing was pretty easy, it’s on my toque.”

“It’s all pretty easy,” I say. “Anyone can do it if they are actually looking.”

“Maybe,” he says, though his tone seems doubtful. “Or maybe you just have known me forever and listed things that are pretty commonly known about me.”

“I guessed on the chick flicks. And my mom,” I admit, and try to casually ask my next question. “Speaking of Moms, have you heard from yours recently?

“Not in two years, so she’s obviously doing fine. The last I heard she was in Florida going from boyfriend to boyfriend; she must have finally been able to deceive one of them into believing she actually cares about him.”

The bitterness in Travis’s voice makes me shuffle my feet and try to think of a way to change the subject.

“You should try− you know, to categorize someone. It’s not hard. You just have to look,” I say. “Practise on me.”

His gaze comes back to my face and I try not to squirm under his direct stare. He looks at me as though he is looking at me for the first time, taking in every inch of my face. His eyes soften, and I can’t help the blush that rises on my cheeks as a result of his intense observation.

“You’re… umm…” he pauses, looking right into my eyes and then quickly down at the paper in his hand. “You know what, I have to get back to work. These are fine.”

Startled by his sudden change, I frown.

“Oh, okay,” I say, and for some reason can’t help the awkward feeling inside. Which is crazy. This is Travis. It’s never awkward.

“I’ll call you later,” he says, backing up towards the door. “You can go over my script with me.”

I smile at him and nod my head.

“Okay, have a good day,” I say as he opens the door and walks out into the cold.

“Do you have the new Avengers in yet?” I hear from behind me. The customer I was speaking to a few minutes before is standing by the desk and I wonder how long he has been there and how much he heard.

“It’s on the back wall,” I point. “I can show you.”

I look back at the door one more time and frown before leading the customer to the back of the store.

Chapter Five

My white knuckles grip the steering wheel and I pray that I won’t hit any of my parents’ neighbours as they shovel the snow off of their driveways. They are standing way to close to the road and my car is not exactly great in the snow. In fact, if it is moving forward at all I count the day as a success.

Just as I am about to relax and turn into my parents’ driveway I hear a loud noise and my windshield is suddenly covered with snow. I can’t see anything and I slam on the brakes. I can hear voices right outside of the car and I switch on the windshield wiper blades to remove the snow from the front glass. Travis is standing right in front of my car, his body covered with snow.

I put the car in park and get out. Travis is trying to shake off the snow clinging to his face and hat while my parents’ new neighbour comes running towards us.

“So sorry, man. I just got it and I’m not sure how it works yet,” he says and shoots me and Travis an apologetic look.

“What was that?” I ask.

“Got a new snow blower,” the man says with a huge smile on his face. When he realises I’m not entirely impressed he has the good grace to apologise again.

“I could have hit him,” I say, pointing to Travis and my windshield. “Do you know what kind of dent he would have put in my car?”

Travis raises his eyebrows and I offer him a sweet smile. I look at my parents’ driveway and it has much more snow than anyone else’s. That is going to take forever to shovel. The supposed ‘good’ neighbour must have blown a large amount of snow off his driveway onto my parents’− though I have to admit the part of his own driveway that he cleared does look pretty clean. And he doesn’t look tired from the effort. Usually I can’t move my arms for days after shovelling.

“Are you alright Travis?” I ask.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he picks up his shovel from the ground.

I walk over and start dusting the snow off his shoulders. “Did the snow blow all over you?”

“Yes,” he replies, and I hear a slight question in his voice.

I look from the driveway back to the neighbour and sigh dramatically. “I guess we will have to start all over again.”

The neighbour looks pretty guilty. Just what I was hoping for.

“Listen, I’ll come do your driveway after I figure out how to work The Beast,” he volunteers.

“The Beast?” I ask.

“It’s what I call the machine,” he says with pride in his voice.

It takes all my will power not to roll my eyes.

Clean the whole driveway? I could live with that.

“It’s okay, thanks,” Travis says, and steps around me to walk to my car door.

“What?” I say, and look from him to the neighbour. “Could you just give me a minute?”

He shrugs. “Okay, I’ll be over working on The Beast if you change your mind.”

I smile and quickly scramble over to Travis as he opens my car door and gets into the driver’s seat.

“What are you doing?” I ask, holding onto the door handle.

“I’ve got to move your car up the road a little so I can shovel the end of the driveway,” he says.

“No, I mean why did you not want that guy to clean the driveway?”

“If I waited for that guy the snow would melt before your parents’ driveway is cleaned. Scott says he’s been out here for five hours and he has one strip of his driveway done, which is now all over me and
this
driveway.”

“Scott’s here?” I ask, looking towards the closed front door.

“Yeah, he just went in to get better gloves from your dad. Now that you’re here we can get the driveway cleared in under an hour.”

I look back at the neighbour and realise that Travis might have a point about the snow blower.

“An hour?” I scoff. “Thirty minutes tops.”

His hand stops inches from the ignition and he looks up at me. “Is that a challenge?”

“Last one to clear their section has to put their tongue on the lamppost,” I say.

The smile spreads over Travis’ face.

“You’re on.”

I close the door and step away so Travis can move the car up the road.

“Etty, you’re here!” I turn to see Scott coming down my parent’s front steps. “Mom was getting worried. She didn’t want you to drive here in the snow.”

“I didn’t know you and Travis were coming to clear their driveway. I tried to text you,” I say.

“My phone went through the washing machine,” he says, shaking his head. “I keep telling Lori to check my pockets…”

“Maybe she doesn’t have time after chasing around all day after a one year old,” I say, putting my hand on my hip.

“Whoa,” Scott holds up his hands in defense. “No need for the women unite routine. I already got an ear full from Lori this morning.”

Good. I’m not a feminist per say, but at the same time I don’t think stay at home moms get the credit they deserve. Credit my brother seems to forget a little too often for my liking. It doesn’t help that my mom did literally everything in the house when we were growing up. She used to iron Scott’s underwear. It definitely explains a lot.

“Travis is just moving my car,” I say. “Then we start. Last one to clear their section has to put their tongue on the lamppost.”

“Seriously?” Scott raises his eyebrows. “Aren’t we getting a little too old for this now?”

“Maybe you’re getting too old,” I argue. “Worried that you don’t have it in you anymore?”

“No, and I see what you’re doing,” he argues.

“I’m not doing anything,” I say innocently. “Here comes Travis; I’ll just tell him you don’t want to race.”

Scott looks at Travis approaching and shakes his head. “Okay, fine, we’ll race,” he says.

Men are so predictable.

“But just so you know, I was only trying to save you from getting schooled, yet again,” he shrugs.

I put my hand on his arm and pat. “Okay, you keep telling yourself that.”

“Did you divide it up?” Travis asks, picking up his shovel.

“We were waiting for you,” Scott says quickly, obviously worried I might make a comment about his reluctance to race. It’s funny because although Scott had a much more privileged upbringing than Travis, Scott always seemed to have something to prove to Travis. I thought it would have been the other way around.

“Okay, we will do it horizontally. Thanks to The Beast Master next door this side of the driveway has a lot more snow, so this way it will be fair. You can only shovel the snow onto the lawn.”

I love the serious faces on the two of them as they survey their respective areas, plotting out the best course. Honestly, you grab a shovel and start going as quickly as you can. Doesn’t take a genius.

“Are the shovels still in the garage?” I ask.

“Yep,” Travis nods and picks up the shovel he had from before.

“I’ll go get one for Scott and myself,” I volunteer, and make my way into the protective shelter of the garage. I see the shovels on the back wall and walk towards them as the door that connects the garage to the laundry room is flung open.

“Etty, you’re here!” My mother stands in the doorway, shaking her head. “Henry she’s here!”

I’ve never seen my mother with a hair out of place. She always looks put together. There is a blizzard outside today, so I am assuming she isn’t going anywhere, but to look at her you would think she was going out to lunch with her friends. She even has lipstick on. Then there’s me: furry boots and a bright red toque pulled down over my ears. At least I put some eye shadow and mascara on today, that always makes up for a lot.

“I told you not to bother coming. Scott or Travis would have shown up eventually, and now you’re all here,” she grumbles. I see my dad’s head pop into the doorway opening.

“Did Lloyd make it?” he asks, searching the driveway with his eyes. My car is actually my dad’s old car from when he was a teenager. He kept it all this time, first giving it to Scott, and then when Scott upgraded to a dependable Toyota he gave the little hatchback to me.

I can’t afford to get a new car, but even if I could choose, I would still choose Lloyd. I’ve always been a daddy’s girl and we talk about Lloyd more than is probably healthy. It drives my mother crazy.

“Was there any doubt?” I say. “It’s going to take more than a little snow to keep that bad boy down.”

Though a heat wave will do it from a cracked radiator, but we both choose not to mention it.

My mother rolls her eyes.

“Make yourself comfortable you two,” I say. “You’re in for a treat today.”

My mother raises her eyebrows at my excited tone.

“We’re racing to clear the driveway,” I say with a grin.

“Etty, why do you do this to yourself? When have you ever won?” My mother shakes her head and gives me a pitying look.

“I’m stronger than I look!” I argue.

“I know honey,” she says. “But those boys double you in weight
and
strength.”

“I’m quicker,” I say, though with not as much conviction as before. She might have a point here.

My dad looks amused by the whole thing.

“I’ll go boil the kettle, get you some warm water for your tongue,” she offers before going back into the house.

“Give ’em hell, honey,” Dad says, winking before closing the door.

I look at the door and the doubt floods into my head. I always do this. Get myself into these situations where I speak before I think. But I obviously can’t back out of it now. Being younger than the two boys I learned quickly that if I didn’t keep up I would be left behind. It may take me twice as much effort as them, and I may ultimately lose in the end, but I’m determined to give them a run for their money.

I saunter back out to the driveway with the shovels in my hand and try not to look nervous. These two can smell fear.

“Still want to do this?” Scott asks.

I realise that perhaps earlier, when I was giving Scott a hard time, he might have actually been trying to protect me instead of himself.

“Absolutely,” I nod decisively and hand him a shovel.

I get the assigned section closest to the road, with Travis in the middle, and Scott by the garage doors. We all stand over on the left side of the driveway.

“Okay. Ready, set, go!” Scott yells.

I immediately put my shovel into the snow and fling it over my shoulder. I take little shovel fulls and throw them to the side as quickly as I can. I look up for a second and see that Scott and Travis seem to be taking bigger scoops, but I think I am a little ahead of the two.

I put my head back down and keep going. My arms are straining from the effort, I’m panting from moving so quickly, and my chest is burning from the bitter cold of the wind. I don’t know if I’m still ahead but I don’t dare put my head up again. I can sense Travis is a little to my left which means that I am ahead of him. And Travis has always been quicker than Scott, which means I am beating both of them. After another minute I glance up and it’s confirmed. I am ahead of them!