Page 12 of Trusting Trey
“What about your parents?” I asked as he started on his fries. When he didn’t answer my question right away, I wondered if I had put my foot in my mouth. I glanced around the restaurant after I took another bite of burger. The wooden beams and long wooden bar made you think of an old ship that may have once sailed on Lake Superior. The window where the waitresses pick up the food allows the patron to see the cooks at the grills, laughing as though they were having the time of their lives. Chalkboards lined the restaurant above the windows and bar with the specials and available beers written in brightly colored chalk. The steel beams and open ductwork made you feel like you were sitting within a living entity allowing you to imagine when all the tables and chairs were gone and only barrels and bottles filled the space or to imagine you were in the galley of a ship steaming across Lake Superior. The stairs to the upper floor, which held more tables and booths, were at the back under a brick arch that made you feel like you stumbled into the era of prohibition.
I set my burger down and wiped my hands, refocusing my attention on the man in front of me. He had finished his fries and leaned forward in his chair. “I have a dating rule. I don’t mention my family until I know the girl well.”
“I can respect that,” I said, smiling and popping a tator tot in my mouth.
“Your beautiful brown eyes make me want to tell you, though. It’s like looking into my own soul and seeing the kind of person I want to be.”
I cocked my head to the left a little and smiled. “Is it weird that I feel the same way about your blue ones? Your eyes were what drew me in last week at the library.”
He smiled and took my hand. “I like to think they’re honest eyes, which is why I’m going to tell you the truth about my family.”
I wrinkled up my nose a bit. “If it’s awkward or uncomfortable, you don’t have to tell me.”
He shrugged. “As the years pass it seems less important to me than it used to. I used to be ashamed to be a Helton, but now I have my own life and my own successes. Those make me who I am today, and my family is inconsequential now.”
“That’s a heavy thing to say,” I said, picking up a crumble of blue cheese.
“Maybe, but it’s true. My mom didn’t know who my father was because she was a prostitute in Minneapolis. She brought me to the hotel rooms where she worked and put me to sleep in the bathroom while she fornicated with whatever guy happened to be paying her that night. When I grew and was too old to go with her, she would hire kids to take care of me until she returned. We lived in a pay by the week motel for the better part of my life. I’m probably lucky to be alive considering some of the things that happened in my childhood. When I was ten, she overdosed in a hotel room with a john and I went into the foster care system. That was the best thing that ever happened to me. I had a bed, food, and went to school every day. I moved around to a few homes, but on my twelfth birthday they moved me to the Tibideaus home. I stayed there until I left for college.”
At some point in his story, I had picked up his hand and held it tightly, focusing in on his tone of voice, and the peaks and valleys I heard, as he told the story. Listening to his voice told me more than his words did. “Are they still alive? The Tibideaus?”
He shook his head. “No, they were old when they took me in. They wanted a caretaker, so they asked for an older child who could do the things around the house and yard they couldn’t do any longer. I didn’t mind doing all the chores because in return I wanted for nothing. They heaped their love on me as they would their own grandchild and made sure I was able to finish high school and they paid for my college. They had no kids of their own, but had been foster parents in the past. The county didn’t care how old they were as long as they were willing to take a kid in. I miss them terribly now. They went into assisted living when I went to college and within a few years Thad, that was his name, died there. Margaret went to a nursing home for a few more years until she slipped away due to Alzheimer’s disease. I visited them once a week and made sure no one was abusing them, and they had everything they needed. I guess you could say I paid them back for the kindness they gave me when I needed it.”
“That story melts my heart, Trey. Untraditional, but at the same time, traditional in the way it ended. So you have no family now,” I said and he nodded, pulling his hand from mine.
“At least none that I know of. I’m sure my father is still alive and for all I know there are siblings somewhere, but there is no way to find him. I’m content with friends; I’ve never minded being alone because that’s the way I grew up. Recently, though, moving to Duluth has brought some of those insecurities to the surface. I left all my friends and moved here where I have no friends outside of work.”
I smiled and put my hand over his. “I’ll be your friend.”
He grinned and took my hand again, squeezing it. “I’m glad, Allison. I need a friend like you.”
“I have a dating rule, too,” I said to move on from the moment we had shared. “We have to go on eight dates before I even mention you to the family. In that amount of time, I’ll know if you can handle meetingBaba.”
“That bad, huh?” he asked and I nodded. “The question is, how many men have you introduced to yourBabaover the years?”
I held up my hand with my fingers touching my thumb. “It’s not easy being Greek.”
He snorted with laughter and wiped his mouth as he swallowed his burger. “You’ve got a wonderful sense of humor, Allie, I mean Allison.”
“Allie?” I asked after swallowing my food. “Where did that come from?”
His face was crimson when he answered. “I have no idea,” he said laughing. “I guess my brain thinks you look like an Allie to me.”
I smiled shyly. “Well, that’s better than Daphne’s attempts.”
He cocked his head. “Who’s Daphne?”
I sighed. I’m not sure even Daphne knows who Daphne is. “She’s my roommate at college. We’re seniors and have the top floor of the sorority house to ourselves this year.”
“Oh, you’re a sorority girl,” he said in a tone of voice that put me on the defense.
“It’s not like that. We’re a community service oriented sorority, and--”
“That wasn’t a negative statement, Allie,” he said, smacking his forehead. “Sorry, I did it again.”
I laughed openly at him. “You know what? I like it. You can call me Allie. That’s a huge step for me, and a big plus on your side of the column. It usually takes people a few years of friendship before I let them call me anything but Allison.”
He took my hand that was lying on the table. “I promise not to break your trust in me, ever,” he said softly, soft enough I had to lean forward to hear him. I smiled back and we sat there for the longest time simply gazing into each other’s eyes before the waitress broke it up, lifting our plates away and heading back to the kitchen to get the bill.
