Burned Gasoline (2 page)

The apple pie on the counter seemed to call out her name, and with a glass of wine in her hand she figured there was no reason
not
to dig into the delicious treat. Tapping lightly on the pie shell with a fork she’d taken out earlier from one of the boxes labeled
kitchen
, the top cracked slightly and let the sweet aroma of apple and cinnamon escape into the air of the room. Placing herself on top of a few piled blankets she sat down on the floor and leaned her back against one of the boxes and enjoyed her dessert in peace and quiet.

              “Oh wow, the guy at the grocery store sure was right… this is pure heaven.” She said quietly, talking into the pie on her plate. “What was his name again? George… no… um… Josh…” She let the fork rest on her tongue for a moment while she stared into the air before her, and tried to remember the name of the guy ogling her car in the parking lot. She had to admit he was darn cute. No, correct that, he was hot. The dark blue jeans had fitted him perfectly, and at 6’3 – something he had towered nicely above her, even with her heels on. He was tall. She liked that. A black t-shirt had matched the dark shade of his brown hair and the jeans complemented the blue eyes that had stared at her in stunned amazement during their short conversation earlier.

              “Jeff!” She said a little too loud and instantly the bassinet moved slightly, and a low moan came from inside of it. ”Damn it.” She whispered to herself. “Go back to sleep my love.” She said quietly and crossed her fingers her voice hadn’t started another long night of walking and rocking, walking and rocking, until Nova would go back to sleep. Apparently tonight was her lucky night. As if all the stars had lined up correctly, Nova rolled over on her side and after waving a few hand movements in the air, went soundly back to sleep.

“Thank you God.” She mouthed silently and let another piece of the pie find its way into her mouth.

She could enjoy this, she thought, and relaxed in the peace and quietness of the rundown home she’d just purchased. This was easily manageable compared to staying in New York, where the few of the gossip magazines had already posted pictures of her, soon to be ex-husband, already dining and enjoying his time with other women, much younger her age. So here she was, on her own, but still not alone. She had Nova, and even though there’d been a short battle in court of custody, there had been no problem for her to get sole custody, when photo after photo showing some indecent unrated material he’d been involved with while she’d been pregnant. Yeah, he’d been a stellar husband and father to be.

So, here she was, proud of herself for not asking for financial support, mostly feeling it would tie her down to him. Her highest wish was to forget him completely, burn every memory she of them together, curse the day he was born, and enjoy the rest of her life without him ever being close.

But today had been rather different from any other day she’d been here. Somehow, every time she blinked, Jeff’s face kept reappearing. Not only was he extremely good-looking, but there had also been this sweet softness about him. The way he had behaved and apologized several times, making sure she understood he wasn’t a stalker or a criminal in any way. That he simply just liked her car. Yeah, she’d heard that deal many times before, but with the undertone of wanting sex, or impress her with car knowledge… but mainly to get laid, or at least get to a make-out session or second base in the back of the vehicle.

              Jeff hadn’t seemed that way at all. Instead he had seemed stunned to silence when she’d placed her hands on her boobs and told him she liked desserts, and that she wasn’t keen on diets. A bubbly laugh emerged through her throat when she replayed the scene at the parking lot in her head. How his bewildered eyes followed every move of her hands over her shirt, cupping her breasts in broad daylight, in a public parking lot. He didn’t seem too used to that type of action. His innocence had actually made her feel strong, and an impulse had come over her at the time, knowing she could probably show him a very good time was he so inclined. Never had she felt that way before.

              “What the hell is wrong with me?” She mumbled. “I just moved here, I’m
just
divorced, and I have a baby daughter. Why the hell do I keep thinking about this random guy… and how the t-shirt cut just mid-center of his nicely shaped arms… ah shit, I need to go to bed.” With a soft move she was up on her feet and placed the empty glass of wine and her plate on the dusty counter and walked back into the room. She was exhausted and threw herself down on the lonely couch standing right under one of the drafty windows, and pulled up the zipper of her sleeping bag. “Nighty night, my love. See you in the morning.” She said quietly, and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the softness of the pillow.

*              *              *

“Alright mom, here you go. Mashed potatoes and turkey with gravy, just the way you like it.” He placed the plate of scrumptious food on the kitchen table he’d decorated for Thanksgiving, even though it was still just early September.

“Ah, thank you sweetheart. Be sure to tell Jeff to do his homework when he comes home from school, and then he can share this lovely Thanksgiving feast with us here at the table.” She smiled wholeheartedly and piled food onto her fork.

              “Sure will, mom. I’ll let him know.” Sadly, she didn’t even give him as much as a hint of a look but simply stared back down at her plate, giving faint sounds of pleasure from the food he’d made her. “At least she liked the food.” He mumbled, and walked back into the kitchen nook to clean up the leftovers from his pretend Thanksgiving feast he’d just made for his mom.               “What should we do, Snuggles?” He asked the purring cat sitting patiently at his feet, nudging his leg for possible turkey leftovers. “Think she’ll remember us tomorrow? Nah, don’t think so either?” He told the cat and poured some gravy over a sliver of turkey and placed it on a plate on the floor by the kitchen door.

              “Wish she would remember me though.” He said quietly, while he washed the grease out of the oven pan that had held the turkey in oven for the day, just roasting away silently until the tenderness of the meat had been just right and almost fallen off the bird. “Let’s have her finish her meal, then we’ll put her to bed for the night, and we’ll work on the cars out in the garage. How does that sound Snuggles? Or, would you rather sleep on top of the bed with mom?” The cat was back in the kitchen hoping for another round of juicy bird meat.

              “Merry Christmas, Michael!” His mom yelled out happily from the dining room table, and raised her glass in his direction.

              “Merry Christmas, dear.” He answered politely. Not sure if he should had the word
mom
in there or not, or tell her it was neither Thanksgiving nor Christmas today, but he knew it wouldn’t make a difference, she was already too lost in her own world that it probably wouldn’t have mattered anyway. He just wanted to make her happy. With her Alzheimer’s being as far gone as it was, why bother making it any worse by forcing her back into reality, it wouldn’t work anyway. It would most likely cause more pain and confusion sitting here telling her how wrong she was, than to agree and take part of her realism of life.

              An hour later his mom was sound asleep in her bed, tucked in tightly under the soft covers, and the railings around her bed were pulled up. With her constant moving and rolling, and with her fragile body, he had requested them being installed before she last came home from one of her weekly visits at the hospital for movement training and socializing with other patients bearing the same illness.

His dad had passed away from a sudden heart attack many years ago, which had left him with no other choice than to sell and leave his own house and move back into his childhood home to take care of his mom. The Alzheimer’s had started early, but had progressed fast as soon as she hit the age of sixty-five, and now it was almost a decade later, and she was more delusional than she’d ever been. And having recently turned seventy-four the outlook of coming back to her previous state and clear mind seemed completely out of reach. Having a pretend holiday in the middle of September didn’t seem too strange knowing it might be her last fall season. Hell, he’d give her a holiday celebration every weekend if she’d wanted it.

So, here he was. Thirty-eight, divorced, and living with his sick mom. It sure didn’t look good on the paper, but what other choice was out there? None, really. Just like the rest of his friends he’d grown up here in the Midwest, where the only thing to do after school was driving your hopped-up moped around, fiddling with your car, helping dad out in the shop, or hide out by the foot of the large rock formation outside of town and drink cheap beer, smuggled out of the store in the sleeves of their jackets.

              High-school had only been a blasting highway of making out with girls in the back of cars he’d ‘borrowed’ from his dad’s shop without his knowledge, until the perfect off-ramp from that freeway had come and he’d graduated. Fuck school and homework. He’d hated it.

              That summer, right after graduation, he’d met Marina, and she’d blown his mind away. God was she gorgeous; with hair so long it reached the waistline of her jeans when she stood up. One of his favorite things had been to run his fingers through it while watching a movie on the couch, which was usually what they did every Friday after they started dating. Oh, except kissing, and hitting second base, then third, until homerun one night.

              Although he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, it was always something stirring within Marina. Somehow she was never quite pleased with him; the way he ate, the way he walked or dressed, not even his idea of taking over the shop after his dad. The rest of his friends had told him he was crazy when he started to talk about a possible break up between them. They had told him he’d never find anyone as hot-looking as her, and to ‘hot-glue himself to her to make sure he’d never lose her’ would be the best idea.

Chapter Three

              A year after graduation Jefferson had made reality of his dream and was working full-time for his father. The business was doing well, and to avoid the hassle of hiring someone from the outside Jefferson had taken the place as his father’s right hand, and learned from the best about repairing engine parts in anything from old Packard’s to newer Hondas. His parents had pleated with him to send him to college, like his older brother Travis, but he’d been determined to make them understand cars were his true and only real passion, not books or numbers.

              He’d let big-brother Travis stand for the ‘smarts’ in the family, knowing he’d make their parents shine with proudness of sending the first one in Daily family history to college. Not any college, but to prestigious University of Missouri where he’d gotten a scholarship to study mechanical engineering. Travis was the brains in the family, the well-read person who could talk about anything with anyone and still have a hinge of what they might answer. They’d always been tight, he and Travis. With only two years apart they done most things in life together; gone to the same schools, shared the same friends, and sometimes even kissed the same girls.               Unfortunately Travis’ life took an ill-fated turn a lone weekend day in February many years ago when he’d been home from college to visit them. The roads had gone slippery with black ice over night, and as Travis had driven one of his dad’s cars into town for a breakfast meet-up with old friends, the only traffic light in town had turned red, and as he was waiting to take off a large truck coming up behind him hadn’t had a chance to stop in time, and consequently ramming into the back of the parked car at the stop light. Travis’.

              The doctors at the hospital had said his chances of survival might have increased if a meeting car had kept its speed through the intersection, but as a result that car had hit and swung Travis’s vehicle in circles until the large truck coming behind him had wedged him into the wall of “Jamming Jingle’s Music Store’, making nothing but mulch out of the small sedan he’d been driving. There had been nothing left of him. His body was in the driver’s seat when the cops arrived and found him, but his limbs were obviously not in the places they were the day he was born. In wishful thinking he had died on impact.

              Marina had been with him then. Been the comfort he needed. He couldn’t remember how long he grieved, but it went deeper than he ever could imagine. Deep enough for him to contemplate ending his own days on earth and join his brother. He got so sick of hearing Travis being in a much better place - better for whom? he always thought. It was sure a fucking hell being here without him, so why were we here at all?

              Marina had been there for him then too. Depression classes, church meetings, support groups, on call whenever he needed her. All of a sudden he had to be the driving wheel of the family. Trying to push everyone else in front of him. It was the toughest uphill battle he’d ever fought, and at times he felt like lying down and simply stop existing. Sometimes, at his darkest hours, he even thought about how he could take his own life. Without the original number of family members something always seemed to be missing. An empty chair at birthday parties or holidays, no one to call to share great news with, and no one to fight with and be annoyed at knowing the quarrel would all be over at the end of the day.