Page 17 of Half Blind

A woman, stunning and impeccably dressed, exited the vehicle. She walked over to Micah, speaking in a low tone and passing a small canvas bag to him. “Wheels up in 90,” she said to him.

She left, disappearing into the landscape as if she were never there. The only proof of Jared actually seeing the woman was the sack in the young man’s hand. Jared pointed at the direction the woman went, which was also in the line of sight of his truck.

“Your truck will need much work,” Micah said. “Were youthe drunkand crashed it in the night?”

“No, I wasn’t drunk! A tornado picked it up while I was still in it and dumped me in a field about five miles down the road, hence the injury to my leg,” he said. “And wait a nail hammering minute, who was the woman, and what’s in the bag?”

“Coffee. I prefer to drink our coffee for breakfast,” Micah replied, his eyes going from the banged-up truck to the banged-up driver, “So... you do not live here.”

“I don’t.”

“You like the woman who owns the house?”

“No, I don’t,” Jared replied.

“The other one, she has a man. She is also too much woman for you,” Micah said, almost smiling. “That one, I wouldn’t mind spending an evening in her embrace. She would put a few hairs on my tattoo.”

“Señor, I don’t like that kind of talk about ladies, especially not those ladies,” he said, pausing to process his words. “What do you mean, she has a man? There’s no ring on her finger.”

“Relax, we are having the chit-chat,” Micah said. “Besides, she doesn’t need a ring. Whoever he is has a ring on her heart. The relationship is new, and at times, you can catch the dreamy look in her eyes. He, whoever he is, has made the confession of love to her.”

“Okay, and why am I having this conversation with you before my coffee?”

“We are having the man talk amongst friends,” Micah said, laughing.

“No, the hell we aren’t! What do you mean friends? We aren’t friends,” Jared said.

“You seem as if you could use one. I have none,” Micah said, taking a breather. He used the time to walk to Jared’s truck. He looked back at the man, waiting for him to catch up. He set the coffee on the roof of the truck. He walked around the damaged vehicle, assessing the wreckage. “My brother, the oldest one, made a friend in a professor who lives in North America. The professor has a cousin here in Ohio whom I shall visit relatively soon. It is an odd pairing, my brother and the professor, but it works. This professor is a confidant of my brother, who offers advice and guidance to him.”

Jared squinted at him, feeling nervous about where the conversation was headed. “You need advice and guidance?”

“No, I could use a friend,” Micah said. “You are not what you seem and your eyes give away who and what you are. Men like us can’t talk to simply anyone. There are times I need to talk, and my father will not understand what I desire for my life versus the life we must live. I seek to find, what is the word,ah si,the balance.”

“Son, you’re not going to find any balance until you can sort out what is happening between you and that assistant of yours,” he said softly. “If I can see it, I’m sure your father can as well.”

“Ah, so you do understand withoutthe spellingout,” Micah said.

“I see a lot of things and only understand some,” Jared replied. “Why her as your guard and not a big Norwegian like your brother?”

“I have Asperger’s,” he said. “My father has taught me how to lean into it, use it to my favor, but it only makes me even weirder than being the son of the drug Czar of a country. Other kids don’t want to be around me, for that reason or another; plus, I’m not really a kid, never have been.”

“Maybe what you see in me is a like spirit. I was never truly a kid. We lost our father when I was twelve, and I had to man up, especially with three sisters. Men wanted to prey on my mother, get into the house, and also prey on my sisters. I wasn’t having it,” he said.

“Ah, makes sense, the question of me and my intentions, regarding the protecting of Bria and Ayanna,” Micah stated, nodding his head.

This was as good of a time as any since the young man had opened the door. “Speaking of that, what did you mean they are children in your eyes?”

Micah popped the hood on the truck. He looked at the engine and checked the oil and other fluids. “The engine is good,” he stated.

Jared was intrigued, “do you know a lot about cars and car repair?”

“Si,” he said. “My Abuelo, on the farm in Colombia, used Jeeps for the mountainous terrain for coffee since they were much more practical than mules. I recently discovered one in an old barn that I restored for my personal vehicle on the farm. It is old, but the restorative process, made life easier in my head. My father and I spent the time, together, making it operable.”

He dropped to the ground, checking under the vehicle to see if there were structural damages to the chassis. Finding none, he shimmied out from under the truck. Standing, he continued the conversation as if the break gave him space to collect his thoughts. “I was twelve when I learned to pilot my father’s helicopter. At thirteen I could drive anything with a steering wheel, including his yacht. When I was 14, I was assigned a woman who spent three months teaching me how to make love.”

“What?” Jared said, shaking his head as if to clear his hearing.

“I have received a new instructor every three to six months for the past four years. Six months is the longest they are allowed to interact, you know, attachments, lofty ideas, and potential illegitimate children sort of things. Recently, I refused the last one,” he said. “Again, I have no need for a child in my bed.”

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