Page 11 of Wasted Memories
All the things I’d never have.
My dad worked two jobs so my mom could stay home with us. My brother and I were both surprise pregnancies. They had my brother when they were still teenagers, and I came along four years later. They called me their little miracle baby since it took so long to conceive me and proved every damn day that they wouldn’t take me for granted. Whoever wanted two kids when they were barely twenty years old was crazy.
Then I turned twenty seven and my dad got sick.
That’s when the fights began.
He couldn’t work anymore with his condition, so my mom had to pick up a couple jobs. Between working all the time and taking care of my dad, you could physically see the stress piling on top of her shoulders.
When he passed a year later, some could say it was like a weight was lifted off of us with how hard it was to balance taking care of him and doing everything else on our twenty acre property, but not enough fucking weight to move on entirely.
Just because the man was dead didn’t mean he never existed.
I understood moving on from a lost loved one. I got that people grieved in different ways. But sleeping with a new man not even forty five days after your husband passed away? I couldn’t even begin to sympathize with that.
Looking out my truck window, I saw a gray SUV pulling in. Assuming it was the owner of the shop, I hopped out.
Walking over to him as he opened his door, I held my hand out to shake his hand. “You must be Jim. I spoke with the assistant manager the other day, he said to meet you here.”
“Jim? Where’d you get that name, boy?” He looked me up and down while he packed his lip full of chew.
“The name of the shop, sir? I assumed because you own it-”
He let out a loud laugh, cutting me off. He patted me on the back and led me toward the shop.
“I’m just jerkin’ you around, the name’s Jim. And I take it you’re Wesley.”
“Yes, sir.” I watched as he unlocked the door, slid up the shop’s garage door, and headed for the coffee machine in the tiny office.
To my surprise, the shop was pretty bare. There were some tools out on the workbenches that lined the walls scattered with metal signs, a stack of tires toward the front, and boxes of oil sitting by the bathroom door. Other than that, the area was cleared, enough space for maybe two or three vehicles at a time.
“Well, today we’ve got just a couple vehicles coming in. An 85’ F150 and Ms. Feeney’s old Camry,” he read off the clipboard by his desk.
As if on cue, the Ford rolled into the lot, pulling into the empty shop.
I cursed under my breath when I saw who was driving it.
Out stepped Emerson’s boyfriend with a smug look on his face.
“You ready to work on my shitbox, ol' Jimmy?” he asked a little too loud, his voice echoing through the garage.
“I think I’ve worked on your truck more than I’ve worked on my own damn cars, Jett. What’s the problem this time?” Jim walked up to the truck, lightly nudging the tire with the toe of his shoe.
“Wheel bearing is loose. Don’t want to be driving my little smokeshow around and have that sucker fall off.” For proof, he put both hands on the tire and jiggled it back and forth.
Jett was lean but had some muscle on him which showed he at least put some effort into himself. His goatee was trimmed, the rest of his face clean shaven aside from the scruff above his lip. He smelled faintly of a cigarette and from what I’d seen of him so far, he seemed reckless and egotistical.
Two things I didn’t care to associate myself with.
“This is Wesley, the new hire.” Jim gestured to me. “Ray said he’s over qualified, which is rare to come by nowadays, so he better have been telling the truth on his resume.” He grinned, shooting me a wink before he spit in the bucket by the workbench. I don’t know how anyone could enjoy chewing. Shit tasted nasty.
Jett held his hand out in my direction. “Jett. Pleasure to meet you, man. I haven’t seen you around. You new to town?”
Grabbing his hand with a firm grip, I shook it. He reciprocated the gesture. I wondered if he was too drunk on Friday to remember me being at the bar. If he recalled seeing me, he didn’t say anything.
I dropped his hand from mine. “Yep. Kind of stumbled upon this place and decided to stay a bit.”
“Well, Oldport welcomes you. I’m guessing you don’t know too many people around here. If you want to stop by my place Thursday night, I’m having a few friends over to watch the game.”
